Page 2 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
I walk into the air-conditioned interior of the mansion. The foyer is huge, with a vaulted ceiling and fans creating cooling breezes. The place is exactly as I remember…except for some puzzling vases with fresh tiger lilies sitting in wall nooks. They aren’t Mother’s favorite.
“Who’s visiting?” I ask Jonas. Mother always fills vases with flowers her guests will enjoy. I’m certain the lilies aren’t for me.
“No one, sir.” He notes the direction of my gaze. “Those are Miss Ivy’s doing.”
“Ivy…?”
“Ivy Smith. Your cousin.”
The name is familiar. Harry mentioned her in the hundreds of texts he dashed off to me between classes and chasing girls.
She’s Uncle Perry’s adopted daughter. When he and his wife died in a car crash about a year after my banishment to Europe, Mother took her in. Unlike me, she wasn’t shipped off to Europe. Instead, she was raised with my brothers, Edgar and Harry, here in Tempérane. From what Harry wrote, it’s obvious Mother treats Ivy like her own flesh and blood…the daughter she so desperately wanted and lost.
“She’s home. So is Master Harry,” Jonas adds diplomatically. “I believe he is in the sitting room in the east wing.”
“Thank you,” I say with a nod, dismissing him. Running the family business keeps Father and Edgar ridiculously busy, but not Harry.
I head toward the east wing, walking along the long corridor. Since Mother loves fresh flowers, every vase has tiger lilies. Not a pink rose in sight. I let myself breathe a bit. The hall hasn’t changed a bit—freshly waxed hardwood floor and ornately framed paintings. Edgar, Harry and I used to run like little demons along here even though Mother told us to behave, saying we set a bad example for Katherine.
“Good girls are overrated,” I told Mother with a cheeky grin.
“Is that so?” She pinched my cheek gently, laughter in her bright gaze.
“A girl’s gotta know what she wants and go for it. Daddy said so.”
“I want to ride a sleigh!” Katherine yelled, clapping and hopping. She looked like a princess in a lavender dress made with silk and lace.
“Then ride a sleigh you will!” Edgar declared. He, Harry and I pulled the pink wagon Katherine dubbed a “sleigh” up and down the hall. Mother put her hand against her mouth to hide a wide grin, then asked Jonas to prepare a pitcher of iced tea.
When we were too tired to pull the wagon anymore, we clamored for the cold drink. Mother pressed a kiss on my slightly sweaty forehead. “You’re a good brother, Tony. Mama’s so proud of you.”
When I saw her smile, my world couldn’t have been brighter or more radiant. My chest puffed out, my heart ready to burst with joy.
Sweet, beautiful memories. I turn them over in my mind from time to time, knowing the warmth and happiness I felt isn’t to be mine again. Not yet. I can only long for them like a child who didn’t get an invitation to a popular classmate’s birthday party. Only Mother’s forgiveness can bring me back into the fold of my family—what it used to be like.
The sound of a piano coming from the sitting room breaks my reverie. There didn’t used to be a piano in there, but…
I quietly open the white double doors. Wide-paned windows look out into the immaculate garden where I used to play tag with my brothers and sister. Next to them, facing a mirror, a white baby grand takes up a corner of the room. Both the mirror and the piano are new.
Two people sit on the extra-long bench, playing Schubert’s Fantasie in F minor. Engrossed in the music, they don’t notice me coming in.
The sight of Harry brings a smile to my lips. My brothers and I got together in Europe when they were on vacation. Edgar even took an overseas semester while at Harvard to study in Paris, and made clandestine efforts to see me as often as he could during those months. During those years, I never thought I’d see Harry in this house again.
He has the dark hair all three of us have, but with a frame slightly smaller than mine or Edgar’s, which younger brother Harry tries to hide by wearing shirts that are a size too large. Even if I were blind, I’d know it was him because he can only half-ass the music. Too lazy to practice.
And his partner… The strawberry blonde to his right is pretty. Her gray eyes are large and brimming with intelligence, her nose cute and pert. She looks like a sweet girl next door, except for her mouth. Soft, lush and inviting, it’s the kind of mouth that belongs to temptresses and sirens.
Her azure dress is much like her—modest and sexy at the same time. It fits snugly around her breasts and tight waist, then cascades around her hips and legs in a loose skirt. I have a feeling she also has an amazing ass, one that would fit perfectly in my hands.
A sudden urge to kick my younger brother off the bench and carry her away seizes me. What an impression that would make.
The girl is playing an incredible primo that belongs someplace like Carnegie Hall. Unfortunately, Harry’s secondo is holding her back, since he’s stumbling every other measure.
He isn’t worthy of being her partner.
I wince with exasperation when he hits a flat note. Can’t he read the music?
“Harry, I thought you said you practiced your butt off,” the blonde says, her voice bristling with annoyance.
