Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 147540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
It was October in New York.
It was fucking cold.
And this cocktail party was outside on a roof terrace.
But no worries, they had space heaters.
Everywhere.
It felt like July.
They hit it, and Alex immediately said, “Okay, be cool.”
“New plan. I’m not gonna throw some art in the outdoor fireplace that’s burning even though there’s no one there to keep warm. I’m gonna kidnap the man, take him north, and drown him in an area of the ocean that used to be an ice cap.”
She laughed softly.
He looked down at her. “I’m being serious.”
She looked up at him, laughing less softly and with more hilarity.
His vision exploded.
So did hers, he knew, because after he recovered, he saw her hand up over her brow and she was blinking.
He scowled at the photographer.
“One more, maybe two,” the man asked eagerly. “Sister of the bride and her handsome fiancé.”
Rix opened his mouth to tell the guy to fuck off.
Alex pressed to his side, sliding her arm around his waist, and said, “Of course.”
He wrapped his arm around her, got rid of the scowl, but on principal, refused to smile.
The guy didn’t take two shots, he took maybe seven.
Then he lowered his camera from his face and stared at the back, cooing. “These are wonderful.”
“I need a drink,” Rix muttered.
Alex laughed again.
He spotted a bar, they made it a step in that direction, then in a cultured English accent…
“There you are.”
A slim woman in a pale pink dress with black lace at the shoulders and waist, lustrous dark hair cut to hit the middle of her swan-like neck, hair that was arranged to be off the face and behind one ear so you could see the black diamonds dripping from it, was in their space.
Her eyes were a deep blue.
Her skin was perfect pale.
She looked a little like Elizabeth Taylor in her later years, without the curves.
Alex’s mother, Helena.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” she snapped at Alex. “Family pictures were to happen at seven-thirty sharp.”
Um…no.
But yeah.
He was totally going to fuck this up.
Not even a hello for her daughter?
One she hadn’t seen since last Christmas?
“Hey, hi, nice to meet you,” Rix butted in, lifting his hand to her.
She jerked back, her eyes came up, they were peeved, they got a good look of him, and her face went slack.
For a moment.
Then she rearranged it and smiled, lifting her hand, not to his, but so he’d take hers.
“You must be John,” she drawled.
“No, Rix,” he said, not taking her fingers, grabbing her hand and giving it a firm shake.
He then let her go.
She looked like she’d been mauled.
He glanced at Alex, who had her head turned away.
“Babe,” he called.
She turned back, but hadn’t yet put away the dimple.
Fuck.
She found this funny.
Guess that was a good thing.
“Yes, right, hello, Mum.” She leaned in and they both did this shit where they swayed side to side, not getting even close to hugging or planting kisses on each other’s cheeks or even touching at all, then she was back. “Family pictures? I didn’t know there were family pictures.”
“Cathy sent you an itinerary. Didn’t you read it?” Helena asked snippily.
“I did, but it didn’t say family pictures,” Alex replied.
Helena opened her mouth, but said nothing as her eyes turned into slits.
“That’s because we’re not fucking doing family fucking pictures. We don’t need family fucking pictures at every fucking hoop we have to jump through in this fucking dog and pony show.”
A good-looking, well-built man who was maybe a couple inches shorter than Rix, with a white streak through his graying hair at the left temple, wearing a suit that Rix, who knew nothing about this shit, still knew cost twice as much as his, shouldered in and grabbed Alex by the shoulders.
Rix crowded them.
But the guy just pulled her up, kissed her cheek, and murmured, “Hello, darling.”
He let her go and stepped back as Alex murmured in return, “Hey, Dad.”
Her father did a once-over of her and declared, “You look beautiful.”
Okay, maybe the dad was all right.
“She needs a bracelet. Her wrists are bare,” Helena decreed.
The mom, though…no.
“She doesn’t need a fucking bracelet, Helena, she’s wearing Bernhard at her ears,” the dad, whose name Rix knew was Edward, bit off.
“Your mother isn’t here anymore, Ned, so please kindly stop kissing her ass,” Helena retorted, saccharine sweet.
Edward cut through his ex-wife with a look and turned back to his daughter. “Don’t listen to her. You’re perfect.”
“She is,” Rix put in.
The guy’s eyes cut again, to Alex’s side and up to Rix.
He looked Rix up and down, nodded, and offered his hand. “It’s good to finally meet you, John.”
Rix took his hand, made sure the grip was firm, saw the man register it, approve, though Rix couldn’t give fewer fucks, and he replied, “It’s Rix and good to meet you too.”
“Rix, yes, Rix. I remember that. Rix,” Edward repeated in that way Rix knew people did when they repeated names of people who meant nothing to them, but they didn’t want to be caught out not remembering it should they need it in the future.