The Fitzpatrick Manor was less a home and more a mausoleum for the living. Stone walls, gargoyles, and enough ivy to strangle a small village.
Ivy took Clive's arm as they walked up the steps. Her grip was light, formal.
Inside, the air was stale, smelling of beeswax and old money.
The main hall was full of people. Aunts, uncles, cousins. The extended family. They were vultures in silk and velvet.
Catrina was there. She had changed into a gold dress that was even tighter than the red one. She was holding a martini glass, holding court with a group of younger cousins.
When she saw Ivy, her eyes narrowed. She whispered something to the girl next to her. They both giggled.
Ivy kept her head high.
Clive pulled her toward a corner, away from the main group.
"My father is going to ask about the merger papers," Clive hissed. "Your father still hasn't signed the asset transfer."
Ivy looked at him. "My father is waiting for the final valuation."
"Your father is stalling. Tell him to sign it, Ivy. Or this wedding is off."
He grabbed her wrist. His fingers dug in. It was a familiar pain. A warning.
Ivy looked down at his hand. Then she looked up at his face.
She thought of the jacket. She thought of the villa. She thought of Bruno.
"Let go of me," she said.
Clive blinked. "Excuse me?"
"I said, let go."
She leaned in closer.
"If you bruise me, Clive, I'll have to explain it to your mother. And then I might accidentally mention the withdrawals you've been making from the company operating account."
Clive's face went slack. He dropped her wrist as if it burned him.
"What… how do you know about that?"
Ivy didn't know. Not for sure. But she had seen papers on Bruno's desk in the hotel room. Just a glance. A spreadsheet with highlighted rows. Clive's name was on one.
"I know a lot of things," Ivy bluffed. "Like how Catrina's new apartment in SoHo was paid for by a shell company listed under Fitzpatrick Holdings."
Clive looked terrified. That was embezzlement. That was prison time. Or worse-disownment by Silas.
"What do you want?" he whispered.
Ivy smoothed her sleeve.
"First, stay away from me tonight. Second, get her out of here."
She nodded toward Catrina.
Clive looked at his mistress. Then back at Ivy.
"She's family. I can't just-"
"Figure it out. Or I go talk to your father."
Clive gritted his teeth. "Fine."
He turned and walked over to Catrina. Ivy watched. She saw the argument. Catrina's shocked face. The angry gestures.
Finally, Catrina slammed her drink down on a waiter's tray and stormed out of the front door.
Ivy let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
She had won.
"Well done."
The voice came from behind her. It was sharp. Cold.
Ivy turned.
Claudia Wallace stood there. Her adoptive mother.
She was wearing black. She always wore black. It made her look like a chic undertaker.
"Mother," Ivy said.
Claudia didn't smile. She reached out and pinched the soft flesh of Ivy's upper arm. It was a vicious, twisting pinch.
"Don't think you're clever," Claudia whispered. "I saw that. You're making a scene."
"I was handling it," Ivy said through the pain.
"You were risking the merger. If Clive calls off the wedding, we lose everything. And if we lose everything…"
Claudia's eyes bore into Ivy's.
"You know what happens to your sister."
Ivy froze. The victory evaporated.
"Don't," Ivy whispered.
"Then behave. Go upstairs and fix your hair. You look disheveled."
Claudia released her arm.
Ivy rubbed the spot. It would bruise.
She turned and walked toward the stairs. She felt small again. Helpless.
The front door opened. A gust of wind blew through the hall.
Silence fell over the room.
Bruno walked in.
He was wearing the suit. The grey suit.
He scanned the room. His eyes landed on Ivy on the stairs.
He winked.
