Dad turns crimson. “You son of a bitch.”
“Guess that makes you a bitch.” Blake smiles thinly. “Dad.”
Dad’s hands clench, knuckles white. His entire being seems to vibrate with anger.
Jarvis walks in before the situation escalates further. “If everyone is ready to view the portraits…”
“Let’s go,” I say, jumping to my feet and leaving first.
Blake follows quickly, keeping up with my fast strides.
“Was it you?” he whispers as we walk down the long, carpeted corridor.
“Was what me?” I ask, playing dumb. Did Dad send my brothers another email letting them know I had something to do with the situation?
“The blackmail.”
I give him a sidelong look and laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous, Blake. I would never. It’s not my style, you know that. My method would be to make him donate so much money to my causes that he has nothing left to lavish on himself.”
“But—”
“Look, we’re about to get what we want. Let’s not quibble over how we’re getting it.”
“Sure. Still, it’s convenient how you didn’t have to marry.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Did you want me to?” It isn’t like him to be spiteful.
“Hell no. You’re better off feeding orphans than chasing after some guy.”
If only he knew. “Agreed.”
Jarvis opens the double doors at the end of the hall. It’s dark inside, and he flips switches. Light floods the room. There are numerous framed canvases on the walls, but five are covered with curtains.
“It’s a temperature- and humidity-controlled environment,” Jarvis announces grandly. “I suggested to the new Mrs. Reed that she should install such features for storing your grandfather’s works. Fortunately, she agreed.”
Ryder nods. “Nicely done, Jarvis.”
Jarvis looks like he’s about to burst. He has a man-crush on my actor brother, and secretly hopes—futilely, I’m sure—that he can use his connection to Ryder to become a Hollywood star himself. “My pleasure, sir. It is my job as butler to advise, ensure everything is properly taken care of.”
“I want to see them,” Blake says.
So do I. Grandfather painted each one as we turned eighteen, highlighting our potential and all that we were at that time. I haven’t seen mine since.
“Certainly.” Jarvis starts to push the curtains out of the way, one portrait at a time.
The first one he unveils is Elliot. His dark gaze is bright with intelligence, and a mischievous smile that says he has a secret. But a touch of warmth to his demeanor makes him look sweet and fun.
“Damn,” Elliot whispers.
Next is Ryder. He’s radiant, every feature so perfect if I didn’t know any better, I would think Grandpa did it on purpose to make Ryder look even better than he truly is. One of Ryder’s hands is open. On it are small dates and hard candies—his favorite treats when we were growing up. His delightful smile and proffering hand make it obvious he wants to share his treasures. But then that’s him—always generous, with a heart of gold.
The third is Lucas. There is no hardness or artifice to him, just pure sweetness. His entire demeanor is one of candid vulnerability, from the wide eyes to slightly shy smile. But he doesn’t appear weak or someone you can take advantage of. He’s the type of guy you want to stand with because you know he’s honest and sincere, and the world needs more of both.
The fourth one is mine. My mouth dries, my heart hammering. Grandpa made my smile soft and sweet like spun sugar, my cheeks lightly flushed.
But my eyes… They hold a hint of sadness. How… How could he have noticed? Grandma Shirley taught me how to control my emotions. I was so careful.
Perhaps that’s why he was such a brilliant painter. He saw beneath the surface. If only Dominic could see that way…