Page 77 of Sins (The Sins Trilogy 1)
Edgar’s right. You’re seeing things.
Sam adds, “And Iris is nowhere as good as Ivy on the piano.”
He’s trying too hard. Harry and Edgar both thought Iris’s Grand Galop Chromatique was great. “Did you ever hear Ivy play?”
“A few times. Very talented girl. Didn’t she go to some fancy music school?”
“Curtis.” I tilt my chin toward Iris. “Is she planning to debut as a concert pianist at some point?”
He laughs, looking away as though he’s embarrassed. “No. She never went to a conservatory or anything. Probably going to get a nine-to-five somewhere, since she doesn’t seem to want to travel anymore.” Dismay fleets over his face as quickly as lightening. “By the way, have you seen Margot recently?”
Is this some kind of petty revenge for my probing into Iris’s background? I won’t give him the satisfaction. “You know I’ve been disowned,” I say lightly, as though I’m discussing the weather. There’s no reason for anything except bluntness here.
He blinks, a picture of innocence. “Still haven’t reconciled?”
“Wouldn’t you know if we had?” He received funds from Mother as late as last month. Harry bitched about it because apparently she was in a horrible mood afterward and called him for some cheering up.
It’s laughable how obvious this ploy to distract me is. Seven years ago, Sam might have succeeded. But I’m not a young man floundering in grief anymore. I’m older, more experienced, with a war chest big enough to destroy the petty fortune he’s built. And just monstrous enough to do it if he doesn’t watch himself.
