Page 23 of The Cinderella Secret
“I think he’s trying to tell us the show’s over,” said Evan. “Do you think—” he began when there was a knock on the front door.
Theo answered in his usual brisk manner and Charlie MacKentier entered, handing Theo his hat and jacket without looking at the butler. Instead, he surveyed the main hall and grand staircase and then the three Deveraux cousins.
“God, it’s been age since I’ve been here. I need to start making it to the Christmas parties again.” Charles MacKentier Jr. was sixty-three with a wide jaw and a face that was settling into hard crags. “Jesus, Ev, you’re starting to look like your old man.”
Aiden felt himself bristle. Usually he could deal with Charlie’s crap, but he was unprepared to have it directed at Evan.
“Hi, Charlie,” said Evan, putting a hand on Aiden’s shoulder. “How’s wife number four? Or is it five? I forget. They all blur together.”
Charlie barked out a sharp laugh. “Now you even sound like him. God, he was such an asshole. It’s wife number four. She’s fine. I assume. I sent her and the kid to Aspen for a couple of weeks. They were getting on my nerves. I’m getting too old to have toddlers around the place, but the wives all seem to want them. Utterly useless, really. At this point I can’t imagine why my father had me.”
“Neither can anyone else,” said Evan. “Come in and have a drink. Aiden was just about to tell us about his meeting with Zhao.”
“Aiden,” said Charlie, looking him over. “As usual, you look like someone who listens to his sister about fashion.”
“Could be worse,” drawled Evan. “He could be listening toyoursister. Jackson, stop talking to whoever and come pay attention to your money.”
Aiden blinked at Evan. It was all textbook Evan, except this particular Evan hadn’t been around in so long Aiden had forgotten what he was like.
“If you insist,” said Jackson, dropping his phone into his pocket. “But I reserve the right to space out and run off when I get what I’m sure will be an urgent text.”
“No,” said Evan, leading the way into the formal living room. “We already have Aiden for those things. If you want to leave, you will have to be epically classless and completely street.”
“Brat, ty ubivayesh’ menya,”said Jackson, in Ukrainian.
“Yes, exactly like that,” said Evan, flashing a smile that was real enough that Aiden wondered what Jackson had said. Aiden glanced at Charlie and saw an angry expression cross his face. Apparently, Charlie didn’t like being cut out of the conversation. Or maybe it was just that Evan sounded a littletoomuch like Owen.
“Theo,” said Jackson, as he closed the drawing room door behind them, “don’t worry about the drinks. I’ll pour.”
The drawing room was decorated in a sort of sixties rendition of classic that included a tan wood sideboard where Grandma kept the snooty liquor. Jackson set himself to the task of pouring while the others seated themselves.
“None for me,” said Aiden, choosing to play into his own stereotype. He opened the door and bellowed out into the hall. “Theo, can I get a Coke?”
“Yes, Mr. Aiden,” called Theo as he returned from hanging up Charlie’s coat.
“Right,” said Aiden, smiling at all of them. “Now that caffeine is on the way, we can chat.”
“I’m awfully sorry you boys are having this trouble,” said Charlie, settling into the middle of one of the opposing couches. It was an asshole position to take. It meant that either someone had to crowd onto the corner of his couch, that the three Deveraux had to crowd onto the other couch together, or that one of the cousins had to take the awkward slipper chair that was too low for any of them. Jackson filled a scotch and Aiden took it over to Charlie, dropping it into his hand.
“If it wasn’t us, it would be you,” said Aiden. “DevEntier holds the patent on that solar array linking system and a few other innovations. I think that’s what they want.”
“I didn’t think you were paying attention to that,” said Charlie, eyeing Aiden sternly.
“Do you think we just send him to the board meetings to look good and chew gum?” asked Evan. “That would be ridiculous.”
“Particularly since that’s my job,” said Jackson. He brought a drink to Evan and sat down on the opposite end of Evan’s couch, leaving Aiden to fiddle with the knick-knacks and lean on the fireplace mantle. Aiden adjusted the clock to the correct time and tried not to stare at his cousins. Sometimes they really did look like brothers. Not just in the arch of their noses, which he knew he shared, but something in the way they made space for each other as they moved around the room—like large predatory cats on the hunt. They seemed to do it instinctively and Aiden felt like it was something he didn’t know how to do. It gave him an aggravating twinge of jealousy.
Charlie took a careful sip of his drink, his eyes on Jackson. “Gum chewing? Is that your job?” he asked. “It seems like you must be doing a bit more. What are you up to these days?”
“Oh, Charlie,” said Evan, before Jackson could answer. “You’ve known the Deveraux for how long? Why would you think there was something new to learn?”
Evan’s answer surprised Aiden. It was a beautifully executed deflection that simultaneously played to Charlie’s ego—assuring him that he knew more about the Deveraux than any outsider—and also made it difficult to persist in questioning without being rude or exposing his lack of knowledge. Evan had also managed the neat trick of neither lying nor making any statements on what exactly Jackson did for the family. Not that it was a secret exactly. Anyone who dealt with Eleanor knew that Jackson handled her security, but Dominique said that most of the people in Charlie’s kind of society assumed that was just code for sponging off the family money.
“I just don’t hear much about any of you these days,” said Charlie with an easy smile. “Randall and Owen were so much easier to keep tabs on. They did like to make a splash.”
“Evan and Jackson have a better lawyer,” said Aiden.
“Point taken,” said Charlie, with a chuckle.
