Mohabbot Blurb | Sabrina (1954) au
Jack had wanted to throttle his younger brother.
Not seriously, of course. Abbot men were not prone to making scenes. They settled disagreements over cigars and bourbon poured too generously.
At the age of thirty-six, Joseph Abbot had yet to leave behind the habits of youth. In August, he was to wed Miss Vivienne Whitmore. She was the sole daughter of Charles Whitmore, a powerful figure on Wall Street. It was an excellent match that would do great things for the family business as long as Joseph didn’t mess it up.
He had not been succeeding, considering he had spent the greater part of the evening looking anywhere but at his betrothed. Jack might have found himself annoyed by it had he not been just as guilty. For all his efforts, his gaze persisted in returning to the same figure across the lawn.
She had returned home from university a few nights ago. She was no longer the girl with dirt on her knees, who had once climbed wherever she pleased and asked what others would not dare to say. And, God help him, Jack had not yet decided what to make of the woman who had returned in her place.
“Be a good brother, would you?” Joseph murmured, straightening his cufflinks.
Jack glanced at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“Samira. She’s expecting me at the tennis court.”
Jack’s jaw clenched. Joseph, oblivious or pretending to be, pressed a champagne flute into his hand. “Go and smooth things over for me, will you?”
“And why should I clean up your mess?”
Joseph grinned. “Because, dear brother, we're family.” He clapped Jack once on the shoulder.
Then, before Jack could tell him precisely where he could shove family tradition, Joseph disappeared back into the crowd toward Vivienne Whitmore, wearing that practiced, disarming smile that made women forgive him far more than they ought.
Jack stood perfectly still for a moment, then drained the rest of his bourbon in a single swallow.
The tennis courts were set at the far end of the estate. They were tucked behind lantern-lit gardens and white climbing trellises that had been there for as long as anyone could remember.
Samira sat on the low wooden bench just inside the clubhouse. One heel swung from her fingers, the other discarded beside her. Her dark curls were pinned up, though a few stray tendrils had slipped free and curled at the nape of her neck.
She glanced over her shoulder. “I see they’ve sent you. Should I expect to be escorted off the premises?”
Jack stepped forward, offering her the champagne flute with the faintest hint of a smile. “No one’s asking you to leave, sweetheart.”
She accepted it. “I was prepared to be discreetly removed. Perhaps paid off.”
Jack stood with one shoulder against the doorframe, watching her in the soft gold light. “Would you accept money if it were offered?”
“No self-respecting woman would.”
“Good girl,” he told her.
A flush rose to her cheeks. “So, where is Joseph?” Her voice was lighter now, though he could hear the disappointment in it, as if she knew the answer.
Jack could have lied. He considered it. Joseph would, without blinking. Instead, he looked down at his untouched drink. “Would you prefer the truth?”
He almost smiled. “Questionable.”
She laughed. He’d forgotten what that sounded like.
Samira lowered her glass and studied him for a long moment, her expression softening in a way that made him uneasy. “You’ve changed.”
He looked down at himself as though she might be referring to his suit. “So I’m told.”
She shook her head. “No. You used to smile more.”
Outside, the music shifted. Samira went perfectly still. Jack followed the sound for only a moment before he understood. The farewell party. The night Joseph had danced with the senator’s daughter while Samira stood and watched.
Samira let out a breath. “I haven’t heard this in ages.”
Jack set his untouched drink aside. He stepped toward her then, enough to give her every opportunity to refuse and gently enough that even he almost believed this was innocent. He held out his hand. “Dance with me.”
She let her fingers slide into his palm, still chilled from the champagne flute. He could feel the slight tremor in them.
“Sorry, I might have forgotten how,” she apologized when she accidentally stepped on one of his loafers.
Jack smirked. “I doubt there’s much you’ve forgotten, Miss Mohan.”
He drew her a little closer. One hand settled at her waist. The other remained threaded with hers. Samira looked everywhere except his eyes.
“Tell me,” he murmured, guiding her through a turn, “did university teach you medicine… or merely how to drive men to distraction?” Her curls brushed his knuckles as she came back into his orbit.
“I didn’t realize age had made you shameless, Mr. Abbot.”
He looked down at her, one brow lifting. “My dear girl, age has made me many things. And please, just Jack.”
Samira finally looked up then and her lips parted slightly.
“Tell me something,” he asked.
He guided her through another slow step. “If Joseph were here, what do you imagine he’d do right now?” He leaned in just enough that his words brushed warm against her temple.
Samira’s breath hitched so sharply it was almost painful to hear. Her voice, when it came, was barely more than a whisper. “He’d…” Her eyes flickered to his mouth. “He’d kiss me.”
Jack smiled. He leaned closer, watching her lashes flutter. “Here’s a kiss from Joseph.”
When his mouth found hers, it was not the sort of kiss a man gave on behalf of someone else. She made the softest sound against his mouth, and Jack almost lost the last of his composure.
Her champagne flute slipped from her fingers. Jack caught it just before it hit the floor, reaching blindly with his free hand.
The hand she’d placed so properly in his slid upward, brushing his sleeve, then settling lightly on his shoulder.
Jack eventually pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. They were both breathing harder than a simple dance should allow.
“That…” Her voice faltered. Jack found that entirely endearing. He tilted his head just enough to catch her eyes again. For perhaps the first time in her life she was looking at him as though Joseph Abbot had never existed.
Jack gently tucked a loose curl away from her cheek. Her doe eyes were still wide in shock.
“It’s all in the family,” he said, simply.
janainaart
baratheonpilled
areudirty
annaxmalina
origamiaround
prguitarman
kaledo-art
blakekathryn
