“Tell me again why Olivia bailed?” Luc asked as we all sat around the large sectional sofa that dominated the back sitting room.

“Don’t you remember the prophecy?” I teased. “Any more than three Manwarring children in one place and the stock market will shift in unpredictable ways.”

Everyone laughed, and I looked around, realizing how much I missed this. 

The evening was filled with polite yet mind numbingly dull conversations, watered down drinks, and a bow tie that made me feel both ridiculous and strangled at the same time. That I did not miss. It was just what came with being a Manwarring. What I missed was the more private after parties. Not the coked out drunk socialites feeling each other up at the club when their parents went home for the evening. Those were worse than the actual events. Just this.

It used to just be me, Luc, and our sisters. Now that we were grown, it was Luc and his wife, Charlotte and her husband, and Oliva made her excuses, feeling a bit too tired. Which was code for either, her husband drank too much, or she drank too much, and they were in too much of a rush to get home and get each other out of those clothes—an option I did not want to think about—or she was pregnant and knew that we would be drinking and doing stupid shit so she had to bow out.

I had my suspicions of which one it was, but she could make whatever announcements in her own time. In the meantime, I was perfectly content to hang with my siblings and their spouses and, most importantly, my angel under my arm. Just hanging out with the people who were the most important to us. 

As soon as I ditched that god awful bow tie, the stuffy jacket, and undid the first few buttons of my shirt, I was comfortable. 

“You would think that after years of wearing that priest collar, you would get used to something like a bow tie,” Charlotte teased.

“A noose is a noose, it is never comfortable,” I shot back, watching as the girls all removed their heels, setting their designer stilettos next to them and stretching out their toes while the other men followed my lead on ditching their coats and ties.

“Holy shit, I can breathe again,” Reid said. 

“Can you though? Pretty sure Charlotte keeps you on a very short leash,” I joked. 

He responded by raising a single finger and we all chuckled again, while Luc went to the bar and grabbed a bottle of the good shit.

We did it up the same way we did when we were kids. Fancy clothes tossed aside, bare foot and drinking straight from the bottle. Because we were classy like that. 

“Ok, well since we are bringing these little post charity ball gatherings back, I say we do it the right, and initiate the newcomers,” Charlotte said with a look of mischief in her eyes. 

“Oh, dear lord, what now? What more trouble could you blue blooded hoity toity rich kids get up to?” Reid teased her.

“Does anyone else notice his accent gets significantly thicker when he’s teasing Charlotte?” I asked.

“Yes,” Luc said, rolling his eyes. “So does his hypocrisy. That mother fucker has almost as much money as I do.”

“Almost?” Reid challenged. “I take it you haven’t looked at the newest quarterly reports?”

“I have. I also know what my sister’s credit card balance looks like. Fashion week is going to even the score.”

We all cracked up. Everything was meant good fun. 

“Boys, please, there are ladies present,” Charlotte chided. “Break out your rulers later. Right now, I would like to have some fun. How about truth or dare?”

“YES!” I said, as Luc groaned in protest. “Ok, who’s going to start?”

“Rose,” Amelia said, sitting up. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth,” she said. She tried to set up, but I pulled her back down, so she was sitting in my lap and I could nuzzle my nose into her gorgeous dark brown locks and smell the light floral fragrance of her perfume that mixed with the scent of her shampoo and her skin. 

“Did you and Thomas have sex before he left the priesthood?” Amelia asked, and I could feel everyone’s eyes shoot to us, as Rose’s body stiffened under my hold.

“Uhhh—” she hedged. 

“Lying is a sin,” I whispered in her ear as I tightened my hold around her waist.

“Answer the question,” Amelia pushed. “Although I guess no answer is kind of an answer.”

Then my brave little angel pushed her shoulders back and sat up even higher in my lap, grinding that sweet little ass against my cock. She was going to pay for that later.

“Look, you have your fetishes and I have mine. I don’t see why what I may or may not have done in the confines of the confessional is anyone else’s business.”

Everyone stared for just a second, as I bit into my cheek, trying to stop myself from laughing.

Luc was the first to break the silence.

“You… in a confessional… what? How? Why?”

“Brother, if I have to explain the how and why, then I pity your wife.”

The room broke out into laughter, and I bit my lip, thinking about the first time I took her in that confessional, and she must have known because she rocked her hips again. Subtle enough, no one would have seen it under the full skirt of her ball gown, but enough that I was going to enjoy punishing her for it later. 

I knew that was what she wanted. Who was I to deny my angel anything?

The game went around and around, everyone asking salacious and scandalous questions. The answer was framed like jokes, but we’re probably closer to the truth, just like Rose’s was.

Finally, it was my turn, and it came from the worst person possible.

“Truth or Dare, little brother,” Luc said with a wicked smile on his lips. I knew that cruel grin. I wore it myself when I was out for a little of vengeance. But that didn’t mean I was ready to back down.

“Dare,” I said as I slid Rose off of my lap and gave her a wink.

“I dare you to swing from the chandelier like we did when we were kids.” He stared me down with every single word.

“Luc, no,” Charlotte said, her eyes going wide. “He isn’t a scrawny twelve-year-old boy anymore.”

“And yet I am still going to do it. Remember, judges, points for landing, distance and style.” I said, kicking off my shoes and looking at the giant French chandelier that I was pretty sure my mother bought before her death at an antique shop in France. I vaguely remember a nanny saying it was made for the Vanderbilt’s and my mother rescued it and brought it back home to the states. 

I was never sure if any of that was true, but she seemed convinced as she was grounding me for swinging on it the first time. 

That lesson didn’t stick when I was a child, it would not stick now. The English bronze looked sturdy enough, and the chains that it hung from looked strong and freshly polished. I couldn’t see any weak spots anywhere. I was at least 25% certain that it would not come crashing down with me. 

With the same overconfidence I had as a teenager, I backed away from the chandelier to get a running start. Shaking out my arms, stretching my legs as if that was going to make any difference whatsoever. 

With one last wink in Rose’s direction, I took off running as fast as I could, pumping my arms and legs so I had enough speed to get the distance I needed when I jumped. I flung myself in the air and reached up and grasped on to the brass rings that held up the frame of all the crystals. And swung with all my might, letting out a Tarzan like yeah as I pumped my legs to swing faster. I was trying to go for three solid swings before I dismounted and hopefully landed on my feet like I did when I was a teenager.

Two swings. 

I made it two swings before my hands slipped, and I went crashing down to the marble floor.

Everyone was quiet, waiting to see if I was okay and I was trying desperately to make my lungs inhale again. After about a second, I could take a deep breath, jump to my feet and lift my hands as if I had stuck the landing perfectly.

Everyone cheered and then went silent, their eyes wide and the women covering their mouths with their hand.

“What? Am I bleeding?” I asked, my hand going to my head where I hit to check for blood.

Behind me, someone cleared their throat, and I knew that sound of disapproval.

Fuck.

I was a grown ass man about ready to be laid into like I was still a child by my father for acting admittedly very childish.

I winced, bracing myself for the verbal barrage of insults as I turned to face him.

He looked at me, still even at his age, even with our height being so close, he still looked down his nose at me and make me feel like I was three feet tall. Then he looked up at the chandelier that was still swinging wildly. The teenager in me tried to come up with some excuse that would somehow explain what had obviously happened in a way that wouldn’t get me in trouble. Just like when I was a teenager, I had nothing and kept my mouth shut.

Father said nothing as he walked past me, loosening his own bow tie and tossing it aside as he went to the bar and poured himself a double.

At least I knew I wasn’t the only one affected. From the corner of my eye, I saw Luc take the bottle of Reserve Whiskey we had all been drinking from and tucked it behind his back.

Father poured himself a double and then tossed it back in a single shot, slammed his crystal glass down on the bar and looked at all of us.

“Okay,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. “What’s my dare?”

Luc and I looked at each other, and then at Charlotte. We were all confused.

“Is he serious?” Reid asked under his breath and I barely heard it.

“I don’t know,” Charlotte answered. “Maybe?”

“Maybe it’s a trap,” Luc said. 

Fuck it. 

I had been around the block with my father enough to know that if he laid a trap, there was no way around it. The only way past was through. If this wasn’t a trap, I would not let this opportunity go.

“All right, old man, you think you can do better?” I said, motioning to the chandelier and laying down the gauntlet.

I expected — I don’t know what I expected. Maybe for him to scoff at me, to start a lecture on the origins and the importance of the chandelier, or just to rage at us like we were still children.

Instead, he took off the jacket to his tux and threw it over to the side. 

“Move aside son, let me show you how it’s done.”

Fuck, I loved my family.