Page 207 of Powerhouse: Boxed Set
I hadn’t had a single sip of alcohol since the weekend. No clubs. No dancing.
There were a few seats still empty at our table, and my stomach was jittery from nerves. Sure enough, I looked across the room to see my mother air kissing the surrounding tables and waving to all her friends as she made her way closer. My heart shriveled in my chest as she looked at me, coldness glaring out from her eyes under her smile.
She hated me. She was ashamed of me. She’d given me up as worthless.
The little girl part of me wanted to leap up and run to her and beg her to hold me tight. I wanted to tell her I was trying to be a good girl for her. I promise, I promise.
Please, Mom. Please love me. Please.
But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t run to her.
It would hurt too damn much when she pushed me away.
She sat herself in the seat opposite Harriet and me at our round table, placing her champagne glass down in front of her. I knew who was going to be joining her. Lionel Constantine. My uncle. My father’s brother.
The uncle that wanted my mother. It was clear in his eyes.
The uncle who made his marks on me, when I was too young to know what marks were.
Shh. Secrets.
Our family was built on secrets. Secrets and lies.
Even the very sight of him gave me shudders. He gave me a nod as he dropped himself into the seat beside her, and I felt my jaw tense.
He was wearing a tuxedo with a navy-blue bow tie, and his brows were heavy and laced with gray. He was attractive even though he was fading fast. I just wished he’d fade a whole lot faster and say his farewells for all time.
I was almost considering giving up my efforts at being polite, but Harriet gripped my hand under the table before I could move. Her eyes spoke more than her words ever could. She shook her head, just a little, and I took a breath, forcing myself to stay in my seat.
I barely had a second to gather myself together before I heard Mom’s voice lashing out in its usual iciness, quiet enough to keep her spite to our table alone.
“Nice to see you actually turn up for something, Elaine.”
“I’ve been busy,” I told her, praying that the event started up soon.
I could read exactly what she was thinking. She was thinking I was a disgrace and wishing I would fuck off and die quietly somewhere to save any more humiliation to the family name. That’s the thing about my mother—she was determined to keep the Constantine glitter over the drudge of our slimy ways. It was more important to her than any of us could ever be.
I didn’t dare cast my eyes at Lionel again. It always made me feel sick, especially when I let thoughts of him creep inside me.
Please, Uncle Lionel. No. No. Don’t let them in. Don’t let them hurt me.
I kept my attention firmly on the other chattering tables and the man taking up his position onstage. I wanted to enjoy it. I wanted to love being there, and love being away from the clubs and the partying, just for one night. I wanted to love the people around me and believe, for just a second, that they truly loved me back.
Tonight’s list of auction items were the same usual fanciness. Gowns and designer sessions and diamonds and pearls. Vacations to some of the top venues in the world and a personalized song from one of the most A-list pop singers.
People lapped it up. My mother raised her hand to several of them, grinning away like a sugar plum fairy when she beat off the competition.
“For you,” she said to Lionel, once she’d won the trip to an Australian boudoir hotel.
“What a darling sister-in-law I’m blessed with,” he said with a dark twinkle in his eye. “My brother was a lucky soul.”
That’s when my tongue burst free from my mouth. “Your brother is a dead soul,” I spat, barely audible under my breath. “Your brother was alucky soulenough to be murdered by someone who wanted what was his. If only we knew who that was. Hey, Uncle Lionel, do you know who that was?”
“Enough!” Mom said, then realized just how loudly she’d snapped. She pasted on that smile of hers all the brighter, waiting a few long seconds before leaning into the table to give me more. “You’re not a child anymore, Elaine. Whatever it is you need to get over about your father’s death, it’s about time you did it. Grow up and stop being rude to your Uncle Lionel.”
I hated it when she spoke to me like that. I could feel our Constantine table all sinking inside, each one of us fully aware of the bristling tension.
Grace, Vivian, and Tinsley lined the table to my left, and Kingston and Harlow, on Lionel’s side, were on the right. Yeah. Everyone knew about the tension.
