Page 75 of Gravehouse

I tell myself it’s the heels. It’s the dress, the climb, and that I haven’t been getting in enough cardio lately…which I better fix.I tell myself it’s the fact I’m still mourning Nonna and my steps are heavier because it’s the extra weight of her death on my soul.

Khloe pushes through the terrace door and wind hits my bare skin, dragging the smell of crisp seasoned meat with it. Candlelight moves across the long table, catching crystal glasses and black plates that lead to where Elea is already seated, chin tilted, spine perfect, and hand resting on her goblet of red wine. She’s staring forward, and I follow her line of sight to where Aléia is talking quietly with Camille, leaning beside the railing.

Movement catches my eye and the tension in my muscles eases when I spot Daniel, standing beside Sinead. Camille and her mother waltz to the dining table, and I give Daniel a short nod.Appreciate your service once again.

Then I land on Asher and my stomach drops.

Turning from whatever Camille is yapping on about, he holds a glass loosely at his side, his expression half bored.

“Ah! You’re all here.” Elea claps, pushing up from the table with a smile that was definitely not on her face a moment ago. “Come, Ivy, honey, sit at the other end of the table.”

Head of the table means every single person sitting here has a direct view of me whenever they want. Not really comforting, considering the guests, but I lower onto the chair anyway, buying myself a second to compose myself.

Khloe takes my right, and Atlas falls to my left, stealing the empty spot between Asher and I. Camille makes a squeal sound, before her heels clap against the floor as she rounds the other side of Asher, leaving her mother directly opposite her.

I wanted to ignore him for the rest of the night, but that’s hard to pull off when he’s directly in my line of sight. Camille looks pretty. I’ll give her that much. Pale yellow silk, thin straps, the whole delicate little package. The evening wind cuts across the terrace, pushing the fabric against her nipples despite the heaters lined up behind us.

It’s cold. Too cold to be wearing what I am.

Daniel and Sinead settle near Khloe, Daniel straight-backed, Sinead slouched with one tattooed wrist hooked around a wineglass.

Silver clinks against porcelain, candles guttering in the wind while waves hit rocks somewhere below us in a slow rhythm. I feel off. Which irritates me more than the seating chart. I’ve been trained for rooms exactly like this since before I knew algebra. Smile if needed. Lie if needed. Do worse if needed.

Heat spreads up the side of my neck, settling heavy on my face. This particular brand of pain is Asher’s, and I know if I turn my attention to him right now, I’ll find him glaring right at me.

I reach for the water. Wine can wait. Wine makes people think you’re pressed, which I am not. Well… I am, but not enough to show it, at least not yet.

Khloe buries her hand in the breadbasket. “So!” her tone high with sarcasm. “if anyone starts a family war before appetizers, I call dibs on live-streaming it.”

Atlas lifts his glass. “You do have more followers than me but less than Asher, so I guess that makes sense…”

Camille’s laughter cuts through the sibling banter. “Charming.”

“Let’s attempt one meal without threats,” Elea tells the table, fixing her attention on Atlas and Khloe.

Aléia clears her throat. “Asher—” Cutting herself off, she glares at me.

What the fuck is her problem?

I follow the direction of her stare, catching Asher already looking my way.

Ah, I see. She was following his line of sight.

Matching his stare, I refuse to back down as I swallow my drink.

Then his lashes fan over his cheeks when his focus drops from my mouth. He sure is taking his time eye-fucking me with his ex, both mothers, and his siblings right there.

Bold.

Ignoring the heady throb of my own pulse, I stab my fork into slice of meat. “The food is great, Elea. Did you make this?”

“I did!” Elea’s eyes widen along with her smile. “How are you feeling all the way down there?”

Elea’s got this way about her, like I’ve known her for years, and I couldn’t tell you why. Khloe must get it from her.

“Like a bride being served up for slaughter.”

Khloe chokes on her wine.