Page 40 of The First Taste

“You are such a bastard. You’re the same little kid that would hold a magnifying glass over an ant hill and laugh at how the ants freaked out. You were a mean-spirited kid and it has spiraled to full-blown cruelty as an adult.”

He glares at me. “And yet, I am the one that’s going to be the next Prime Minister. You fucked up royally and left yourself wide open for this one. Now I just have to hold on tight and enjoy the ride to the top.”

"Just because you have Mum and Dad’s approval doesn’t mean that you’re going to get the country behind you. You need a friendly new resource to back you at every turn.” I step closer, my expression grim. “You need me to secure your future. Don’t forget it.”

A little mocking laugh leaves his lips. “No one needs you. You’re done. You should take your hired help off to a tropical island somewhere and never be heard from again.”

It’s been like this since we were children but the dividing line between James and I came much, much later. When he found out that I made a decision that warranted him sliding into first place, he turned from a mumbling, joking little brother to a vicious little snake.

Mum finally interrupts James’s flow of words. “Now boys. Don’t fight. I’m sure that Keir will apologize when he is ready.”

My brows descend and I look at her with frustration. “Mum. Have you even been listening?”

She releases James's arm and steps closer to me, patting me awkwardly on the arm. “I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm by it. You know how boys are.”

I give her my most incredulous look. “That is not how a future Prime Minister should behave.”

Mum looks at me sternly. “Well then, you shouldn’t have gone through a messy divorce, should you have? The decision has already been made that your brother should be the political leader and you should control the media empire. I’m sorry, but we are only doing our best after you made your own bed.”

I press my lips closed and give her a nasty look. Her eyes have already swiveled back to James, and she smiles sweetly and pats him on the chest.

“You’ll stay here in Glasgow with me, won’t you? I know that Keir will run back to Drumman Castle in the name of being with his child. But you won’t leave me, will you?”

James grabs her hand and kisses the back of it. “Mother, I would never leave. You know me too well for that.” I roll my eyes.

“You are such a suck up. Honestly, maybe you are meant to be the politician of the family.”

Defiance sparks in his eyes and he lifts his chin. “Mum, you should meet Ella. She was a ballet dancer in New York. And then she broke her femur while dancing. So now she is a beautiful broken doll that Keir brought home. It’s charming really, if you ignore the fact that Keir left his perfectly functional family to pursue his “new life”.”

“Fuck off,” I snap. “Seriously, you can get fucked.”

“Just like Ella did after the gala in New York City?” He says with a smirk.

My jaw clenches and my hands tighten into fists. I start towards him, but my mother puts up a hand to stop me. It’s always been like this, my brother launching missiles and my mom keeping me from killing him. I grimace and show him just a hint of my teeth.

That’s when my father wanders over, his arms folded across his chest. “I want to meet this girl. You said she was a ballerina?”

"She’s just here to look after Isla. You remember that I have a child, don’t you?”

He looks over to where Ella is sitting, apparently completely ignoring my question. He beckons to her, raising his voice. “You! Come here.”

Ella looks like a trapped wild animal. Her eyes go wide and she swallows hard as she stands up. Her fists bunch at her sides and she looks at me questioningly, as she slowly makes her way over. Mum and Dad look at her with condescension already painted on their faces. She hasn’t even opened her mouth but I can feel them bristling, ready to attack at any moment.

I swing my head around, looking for Natasha with a keen sort of desperation. No such luck, of course.

“Do you really need to question my au pair about her purpose in being here?” I demand.

My mom gives me a cool smile. “You sound as if you think she won’t hold up under questioning.”

My eyes tighten on her face. In reality, I don’t want Ella questioned. Probably because she is not a fucking nanny. She’s just a former ballerina looking for anyone to hire her for any job.

Ella approaches our little grouping, looking like she is ready to melt into the floor. Next to all of us, she looks small and dainty, even standing beside my mother who is fairly tall for a woman. Ella is not just lithe but waif-ish and her short dress shows off one million miles of leg, which is startling in contrast to my elegantly dressed mother and my brother, my father, and myself and our students.

She looks utterly delicious, but her style is certainly a far cry from the stuffy clothes that we usually wear.

I glare at my brother, praying that his taunt about special skills will not be questioned. I am already certain that he is going to imply that she is a sex worker of some kind and I’m not really interested in defending her from those sorts of charges. Hell, I’m just lucky that no one in here has even mentioned the fact that her skin is darker than our families.

James opens his mouth to say what he thinks her special skills are. But I cut him off, turning to Ella and sweeping my hand out to include her.