Chapter 9
“CLAIRE IS HERE,” Julia whispered at my shoulder and from the way Kat’s head turned, I could tell she could hear. “I’m sorry. I invited her before Mother informed me this was about your surprise wedding.”
Because of course she did. Damn. My relatives seemed to have a strangely difficult time acknowledging that Claire was no longer a part of the family. For as short a time that she had even been a member of it, it was especially shocking.
Dinner was as formal as Julia had warned us it would be, sit down with courses, place cards and the like. I sat between my mother and Kat, while my father peppered my bride with questions on her other side. He kept a steady stream throughout the dinner—most of which I heard because my mother hardly spoke to me. Maybe she was sulking about being cut out of the wedding and the advance notice and the chance to try to talk me out of it.
Or maybe she was just putting on a brave face, ever the gracious hostess. Her top priority had always been maintaining a perfectly constructed image.
Kat’s table manners were on point, much to my relief, though she didn’t use the continental style of eating that my family preferred. But that didn’t single her out amongst many of our guests.
“You actually work directly with Lucas at that gaming company?” Father asked her.
Kat, who’d just forked in a bite of meat, nodded enthusiastically while she chewed. “We’re in the game testing department.”
“So you sit around and play video games all day? I can see why Lucas loves that job so much,” he said with a soft laugh and that same insulting tone he’d used my entire life. Nice, asshole.
“Actually it’s much more than that,” she responded once she’d swallowed. “It’s not about playing a game. It’s very meticulous work. We have to test every aspect of the game. In reality, it’s our job to break the game any way we can in order to determine durability and clean playability after market. It takes a very good eye, a lot of patience and careful attention to detail. And it has to be done fast, usually on a tight deadline. That’s why Lucas is so good at it. His ability to focus on details is amazing.”
My brow twitched in surprise. I’d never heard her directly compliment my skills before. She’d expressed admiration here and there—mostly in the role of cheerleader. And I didn’t think that was because she was only one of two women who worked in our department, no. Kat’s enthusiasm and higher than average work ethic kept our team fueled and ready for whatever hit us. She was the perfect team player and got us through the rough spots with her ready humor and energy.
All this on top of being my secret weapon.
“He’s always been like that,” Father said, eyes narrowing at Kat. “And he’s put it to good use, I see. Along with his impeccable taste in beautiful ladies.”
Gross. I leaned in to create a distraction so Kat wouldn’t have to listen to any more of that bullshit, but my mother interrupted me.
“You’re bringing Katharina to the family reunion next month, I hope,” she said with a nudge in my side.
I flicked a glance at her. Ah, and here it was, the reason she was likely holding any anger toward me inside. She wanted something. Our attendance at the family reunion? Really?
I’d rather have oral surgery without anesthesia, to be honest.
I barely felt like I belonged in this family anymore and I had severe doubts that they would make Katya feel anything close to welcome. I knew them too well. Fit in to the image of what they wanted to present to the world or dare to face their wrath.
Or do what I did and vanish for over half a year.
“Probably not. We’ve got a lot going on this summer with work. Kat has some summer plans as well. And there’s this new position I’m—”
“It really would be a nice way to welcome her into the family, Lucas. And we’d love to see more of you, of course. Please talk to her about it?” She would not be deterred, apparently.
I gritted my teeth, still managing the irritation at having been cut off. As usual, she wasn’t the smallest bit interested in hearing about my work or my plans. Or, beyond this new development, my life in general. I was foolish to have assumed that things might have changed.
“We’ll see.” But I had no intention of putting Kat—or myself—through days of awkward family festivities. To say nothing of the stilted relationship that, beyond the DNA we shared, gave us practically nothing in common.
“I see you’re not drinking your wine, Katharina…” my father was saying toward the end of the main course.
“Oh, uh, I’m not much of a wine drinker, actually. But I do love beer.”
You would have thought she had admitted to skinning small animals alive or something. Heads turned, silverware clattered against dishes, gasps all around. People stared. Father’s eyebrows climbed his skull. Christ almighty.
“We’re going to have to educate you in the joys of the grape. That glass has some of our finest Cabernet Sauvignon from the family vineyard. 2008, I believe. A dry year. The harsher the weather, the better the wine.”
Kat blinked, visibly shocked. “The family vineyard… as in your family’s vineyard?”
“And winery, yes. In Napa. Turning Windmill Winery, established 1986.”
Kat’s face blushed deep pink. “Oh well, yes, I should definitely have some wine then.” She snapped up her glass and downed half of it in one gulp. I had to raise my fist to my mouth to cover the chuckle behind the back of my hand. Fortunately, Mother hadn’t seen. She was more focused on her conversation with my cousin Lindsay and her new boyfriend than she was on Kat’s uncouth attempt at sampling the family label.
Kat finally came up for air complete with purple moustache and nodded vigorously. “Oh yes, that’s amazing wine. So good.” She then dabbed at her lip with a color-coordinated napkin.
The rest of dinner followed a similarly amusing path. I was especially entertained when Father found out she was Canadian. His eyes widened and he all but asked her if she went moose hunting regularly, used antlers in all of her decorating and lived in a yurt.
Yeah. Some things just never changed.
After dinner, people filed out of the dining room and back out to the terrace to watch the sunset. Instead of moving with them, Father hooked a hand around my arm and asked me to meet him in his study. Ah, so apparently it was time for the Big Talk ™. I’d hoped that he’d decide to forgo it, but no such luck.
And as bad luck would have it, the first wife, not the second, was waiting for me in the entry hall. Though I was flattering myself to think it was by chance, because Claire stood lingering, as if waiting, while others filtered around her out toward the terrace.
“Lucas—”
My eyes snapped to her, but I quickly turned away as if I was very pressed to get to my next meeting. Unlike Kat, Claire was a reed-thin size zero with shiny dark hair. As if for effect, she was wringing her perfectly manicured hands. I’d once thought her beautiful. She couldn’t even hold a candle to Kat.
Claire was also a woman that, for a long time, I could hardly look at without feeling nauseous, frustrated and angry. But that had been behind me for several years now.
Now I just felt nothing at all. Thank God.
We may have once been married, but since then she’d been a perfect stranger to me for twelve times longer than the marriage had lasted. Had she not somehow latched on to my family, I’d never have had to lay eyes on her again. But unfortunately, as it was, she turned up at practically every family event, which gave me all that much more incentive to stay away.
Tonight, I wasn’t in the mood to spare her a hello or how are you doing. I just stopped and waited when she planted herself in my path for whatever melodramatic performance she would no doubt give.
“Um.” She furiously bit her bottom lip and looked around her. “I just wanted to… wanted to extend my congratulations and wishes for your happiness. The two of you look very happy.” She batted her eyes a few times, as if giving the illusion of fighting back performative tears. Non-existent tears.
I nodded. “Thank you. We are very happy.” Then I turned to go.
She gaped at me. “Don’t you have anything to say to me? Like maybe I should have gotten some warning first or something?” she practically screeched.
I turned back, completely perplexed. “Warning? About what?”
She shrugged and looked down, still blinking furiously, this time adding a tremble to her voice. “About you getting remarried. So I wouldn’t have had to hear it from your family after I got here tonight.”
I frowned. “I had no idea you were even invited. So no, I don’t have anything to say to you.”
Likely, she’d already told everyone in our circles about how unfair I’d been. Or she’d complained about how I hadn’t taken her back when she wanted—no, demanded—it. Or she’d wished aloud that the new wife and I would split up before our first wedding anniversary. I only regretted that Claire was going to see that prediction come true. Confirmation for her that I was indeed a shitty husband.
But that still didn’t make me care.
Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Well I certainly hope you don’t freeze her out like—”
“We’re done here.” I cut her off before she launched into the blame game again. We’d been divorced over six years. It wasn’t just water under the bridge, that water had flowed out to sea and evaporated into a tropical storm over the Pacific a long time ago. “Bye, Claire.”
When I turned my back on her to head down the hall to the study, I could sense her standing there, staring after me.
Nevertheless, I paused at the door to the study, unconsciously straightening my jacket before entering. Father was seated at his huge oak desk that had once belonged to my grandfather and had, before that, graced the grand study of the ancestral home in Utrecht. The soft red leather creaked as he settled into his chair and gestured with a flourish at the facing seat, a comfortable wingback chair. The sight of it immediately brought back memories of his stern disciplinary lectures as a child. Or the hours of unwanted and unneeded advice spewed at me as a teen. I chose not to take a seat, but I did unbutton my jacket and stuff my hands into my pockets.
He arched a brow and without a word, pulled out a cut crystal decanter and two matching glasses. Specially aged scotch, his favorite. After pouring, he pushed a glass toward me and immediately started sipping at his. I almost laughed at what this image might look like to some outsider walking in—like Kat—and her allusion to the whole Downton Abbey thing. All we were lacking were a couple of Cubans, some fancy silk smoking jackets and posh British accents.
I left my glass on the table untouched while he sipped deeply from his before setting it down and throwing me a speculative glance. Father was in his mid-fifties and heavily favored the European mannerisms and bearing of his aristocratic old world family. Here in Southern California, he was like a living, breathing anachronism. The discrepancy wouldn’t have been nearly as glaring had he taken up residence on the other coast of this country. As it was, formal, uptight and California did not mesh well.
I waited for him to speak. It was how I’d been raised and old habits died hard, even when you really, truly wished to kill them.
He cleared his throat noisily and finally belted out a blunt, “So what’s the real story with this woman. Did you get her pregnant?”
I pinched the flesh at the bridge of my nose to cover rolling my eyes, unsurprised that he’d chosen to lead with that.
“’This woman.’ You mean my wife?”
He handwaved—yeah, literally handwaved, fingers splaying through the air in a dismissive gesture. “You know what I mean. I’m just asking because everyone’s thinking it.”
I cocked my brows. “Oh, they are?”
He half shrugged. “Lots of pointed glances at her midsection. Maybe you hadn’t noticed.”
“I just noticed people admiring a beautiful woman.” It was true that I could have just given him a straight answer and put his—and apparently all the rest of the world’s—fears to rest. But there was no small pleasure to be had from making this man sweat a little.
The paternal figure cocked his head and shot me what I’m sure he thought was a sly glance. “It’s true that your wives are getting progressively prettier, I’ll give you that. Let’s just hope you can make this one stick.”
I ignored the obvious bait. “I’m sure you answered your own question by serving champagne the minute we walked in the door. And of course there was asking her about not touching her wine at dinner.”
Another one of those infuriating shrugs. “Just want to make sure I’m not going to end up a surprise grandfather.”
“Well give it time, maybe my sister can help with that.” I folded my arms and leaned up against the bookcase-lined wall. The smell of leather-bound, exquisitely ornate books that he never read hit my nostrils. At least the staff successfully kept up appearances by never allowing them to get dusty.
His cold stare held mine for long minutes until I broke the tense silence that settled between us. “To what do I owe the honor of this grand audience?”
He sat back, blowing out a breath, his eyes narrowing. “You aren’t sparing the sarcasm tonight, are you?”
I smirked. “Might as well cut to the chase, right?”
As he shifted to cross his legs, striking a haughty pose, the leather creaked its protest. “You’re really not in a position to have this kind of attitude. You’ve brought this new person into our family without any warning whatsoever. Not even an introduction beforehand. I thought you’d sworn off marriage after the last one. Even when she begged for another chance. Did you see a gorgeous face and let your hormones get the better of you? Or… was it something else?”
I scratched my forehead with one nail, just above my eyebrow. “It sounds a lot like you’re questioning my sanity.” Again. “What’s next? Should I expect threats of being committed against my will?”
Father’s gaze narrowed. “That was a long time—”
“And yet you still bring up Claire and the theatrics she pulled when we split up. That was a long time ago too. Nice move, by the way, inviting her here tonight. That hasn’t been awkward at all.”
He shrugged. “Your mother’s doing, not mine. She’s Julia’s closest friend.” Father’s gaze drifted away from mine and he appeared deep in thought. “I’m going to be honest. Your behavior has us concerned.”
Ah. There it was. Concern. Lucas was having “another breakdown.” Time to round up the troops and start tearing our own hair out again! What will the neighbors think?
“Last I checked, I didn’t need to run my important life decisions by you for pre-approval. I’m twenty-six years old.”
He didn’t like that little reminder. All my choices since the day I’d left my old life behind me had reinforced that belief and it still irked him on a regular basis.
“Last I checked, I’m still your father and you’re still a part of this family. Your introducing her to us ahead of time would have been the decent thing to do.”
I stayed silent, and it was a concerted effort to keep my words from escaping my mouth. I gave you the warning you deserved. Damn. This was a fake marriage, sure. This shit he was throwing at me—the past, the self-interested “concern”—should have been rolling right off my back.
Instead it was making me simmer with subdued rage, doing exactly what I’d hoped it wouldn’t, bringing the past up front and center and throwing it all in my face.
This prick was implying that the only reason I’d deign to marry someone like Katya was because I’d gotten her pregnant. Or that I’d allowed her to manipulate me and my hormones. Or that I was mentally ill. That pissed me off even more. He knew nothing about her nor did he appear to want to know anything about her. His own new daughter-in-law.
He brought the glass to his lips for another sip, then leaned back into the chair with a long drawn-out sigh. “I trust you have a prenuptial agreement in place.”
More fuel for the rage embers that threatened to flare into full-blown flames. I rubbed my jaw and fought to keep the smile from my face before I dropped this particular bomb. “There’s no prenup.”
He visibly paled, mouth pursing up like he’d sucked a lemon. That’s an A plus for being dramatic, dear Father.
“It won’t be needed.” I couldn’t help but twist the knife a little. “I haven’t touched the trust fund and I have no plan to.”
He rubbed his forehead. “No one can touch that money but you. I can’t do anything about that. It was your grandfather’s doing.”
Much to your chagrin, I know.
“It can stay in the trust fund and accrue interest. Maybe my heir, if I have one, will enjoy it.”
The look of disgust on his face almost made me laugh. Who in their right mind would turn down a nine-figure trust fund? But since they’d long ago decided that I wasn’t in my right mind, why not just keep them guessing?
“Your behavior these past six years has beyond baffled me. I don’t understand you.”
I nodded coolly. “Clearly.”
He shook his head with more of that faux concern. “You treat this like a game. Even now. You need to man up. I hope this girl—”
“Her name is Katya. Your daughter-in-law, Katya.”
“—is the one for you and that it works out. Maybe you’ve learned to be a better husband this time around. If not, that’s going to be one hell of an expensive divorce.”
Oh, he had no idea. None. A new idea bloomed in my mind. Maybe I’d sign it all over to her when we divorced. Problem solved.
And that bullshit about being a better husband, though it did sting, was rich coming from a man whose own fidelity over the years was at best questionable.
“Is there anything else or am I free to go back to the party and my wife?” Unfortunately I did not manage to keep my irritation out of my voice.
He stood, refilled his glass and picked it up, took another sip and watched me coolly over the rim of the glass. “You’re free to do whatever you want, son. It’s how you’ve been acting for years. Too bad divorces are only for spouses and not other family members, huh?”
He shook his head and left me standing there in his own study. Probably the only way he’d ever get the last word in was to leave the moment he’d delivered it.
Fuck you, Arent van den Hoehnsboek van Lynden.
I strode to his desk, scooped up the untouched glass of whiskey he’d poured for me and knocked it back. It burned so hard that my eyes watered as the smoky-flavored liquid seared its way down my esophagus.
Were they all thinking that? That I’d lost my mind? I unstopped the priceless decanter and poured myself another glass. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Memories of that time—the huge ball of anxiety constantly in my stomach and in my throat. The way that everything I’d bitten into turned to ashes in my mouth. The constant phone calls.
The lack of sleep. The tight band around my chest that made it hard to catch my breath and struggle even harder for the next one. I squeezed my eyes shut as if that would shut out the kaleidoscope of images, feelings and words sliding through my memory. Another drink.
I didn’t stop until I’d finished the third.
The room was starting to fade into a slight blur. A warmth spread through me but it didn’t manage to smother that inner rage. In a way, I still mourned the loss of that naïve young man I’d once been. He’d been killed the night the people I’d most trusted in the world had wedged a knife in my back.
Fuck you too, Claire. Mother. Julia.
I left the study, vaguely aware that I wasn’t exactly walking in a straight line. Inexplicably, I wanted to be near Kat. I could trust her. Of all the people here—including the ones I’d known my entire life—she was the one person I could trust.
We had our moments but her dealings with me had always been on the up and up. Always honest. No bullshit.
This family needed a lot less of that. And I wanted to leave this goddamn mausoleum with Katya. Now.
I needed her now and for a short while, she was still mine.
Mine.
I found her on the back terrace talking to my sister Julia and Julia’s two closest friends—Claire and the new flavor-of-the-month whose name I could never remember. A bubbly blonde girl with a voice that sounded like she’d just sucked in a ton of helium.
The three of them had my poor wife cornered, though Katya didn’t appear to be in any way distressed. My hand tightened into a fist at my side. With that collection of harpies, I’d fear for anyone in her place.
Julia and Whatshername were nodding along, prompting her to continue. Kat took small sips of her glass of water in between talking while discreetly scanning the area around their little group. She looked like she wanted to make an exit herself.
Well here I was, Kat’s white knight to the rescue. I’d even brave the harpy flock, and the dreaded ex to save her. Maybe she’d even appreciate it.
Of course, the fact that I wanted to get the hell out of here meant that my motives weren’t exactly altruistic. I’d get her away from the group and then we’d plot to make our escape. I re-buttoned my jacket and approached the circle, putting a hand on the curve of Kat’s back and avoiding the overtly curious gazes of the other three women.
“Lucas!” my sister said, her eyes widening. “I was just admiring Katharina’s gorgeous dress.” She held up her phone, which showed a flattering picture of Kat that she must have snapped just minutes before. She turned to Kat. “With your permission, I’d love to post it. My lifestyle brand followers will love it.”
Julia began typing away on her phone as if starting the post without getting Kat’s permission. Kat blinked, startled. “You have a lifestyle brand?”
Without looking up, Julia nodded. “Mmm hmm. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Fløe. F-L-O with a slash through it-E—as in ‘Go with the Fløe.’ I just hit over two million followers last month, so a lot of people will see your pic. Can I tag you? You have an Instagram, right?”
Kat blinked as if still absorbing all of this news. Julia had been touting herself as an influencer and brand ambassador for several years. Finally, after coming of age for her trust fund, she’d quit college and started her own lifestyle brand. At least she was interested in doing something—even if it just meant traveling, clubbing, shopping, partying, and documenting it all for her followers.
“Uh, yeah. Sure. It’s @PersephoneGamer. It’s linked to my Twitch account.”
One brow rose, Whatshername whispered something I couldn’t hear to Julia. Claire continued to stare at Kat and me with that weird mixture of hurt and curiosity. Awkward. God, I was so done with this bullshit tonight.
“That’s right.” Julia said, glancing up from her phone. “I knew you were a gamer. Will have to check out your channel sometime.” Biting her lip, she continued to thumb-type her post. “Sorry just adding hashtags now. That’s off the rack, right? Not a designer?”
“Yeah,” Kat answered. “If I can’t pronounce the name, I won’t wear it.” Kat laughed, I laughed. The other three stared at us with looks akin to mortification.
“Well. Sorry to interrupt but I need to steal my wife away.” She turned to meet my gaze, giving a decisive nod. Kat was subtle about it, but I could tell she was still pissed at me. Didn’t matter. After three and a half glasses of my father’s Scotch, not much could faze me, not even an angry wife. And a butthurt ex-wife, for that matter.
I hadn’t made eye contact but I could feel Claire watching every move we made. My arm hooked around Kat’s waist, pulling her up against me. I could feel the entire length of her body along my own in a way I never had before. After the initial stiffness of surprise, she relaxed against me before covering the hand I rested on her hip with her own. Our fingers laced together and suddenly….
My alcohol-laced blood ignited and quickly burned for more. For her. Without another thought, I swept down and planted a firm kiss on that soft, sweet-smelling neck.
And then she did it…. She shivered against me. That tremor sent a bolt of desire right through me and I was hard instantly.
She sent me a questioning glance—her cheeks slightly pink, her mouth open, her chest rising quicker than before. I hadn’t realized that my hold on her had tightened involuntarily so I reluctantly loosened my grip. But not without that reminder inside my head that cried out with all the sophistication of a Neanderthal. Mine! Mine, mine, mine.
All mine.
“Are you okay?” she whispered when the others started talking amongst themselves.
I leaned in to return the whisper, aware that the world around us was still a little wobbly. “Let’s go home.”
She stared, her pink lips parting again. I really wanted to kiss them. In my pleasantly buzzed haze, it was all I could think about. Then I wanted to feel those lips all over my body.
She tugged on my arm and jerked her head toward the house, wordlessly asking me to speak in private. Maybe she wanted to yell at me again, like she had before dinner. I suppose I didn’t blame her.
And I certainly wouldn’t disagree to being alone with her privately. But not because I wanted to talk.
Kat slowly slid away from me and I reluctantly released her. But she caught my hand and, with a gentle tug and a wave to the rest of the group, pulled me away.
Once inside and in privacy, she turned to me and quietly stated the obvious. “You’re drunk and you reek of whiskey.” I responded by reaching up to her face and running a thumb along her bottom lip. That lush, plump lip needed to be tasted. Her face clouded, and she batted my hand away. “I’m still super annoyed with you right now.”
I smiled and shrugged. Her anger had to cut through several layers of mellow drunken euphoria to have any kind of sharp effect on me. I was at that perfect state of just having had enough to feel good without going over the top into melancholy.
“Welcome to being married, Cranberry.”
And then I swooped in for a kiss despite her purported annoyance with me. In this condition, I found I couldn’t resist her, so I chose not to. The moment there was a flicker of response from her, my hands were on her neck, holding her head to mine.
My body against her body. My mouth against her mouth. My hands sifting through her glossy, thick hair. Her hands came up first to cling to the lapels of my jacket for a few seconds before giving me a hard shove away.
I probably deserved that.
“I said I was annoyed, What I really meant was pissed off,” she hissed in a low voice so that no one would overhear.
I swallowed. “Kat—”
Heels clopped across the imported stone floor toward us. Before I could turn to see who it was, the generous whiff of designer scent, always Chanel no. 5, gave it away.
All I could do was fumble to straighten my coat so that my current state of arousal wasn’t obvious before turning to face my mother.
“I’ve been looking all over for you two. Aren’t you just the most adorable lovebirds?” She was using her fake-nice sing-songy tone of voice that meant she was irritated or just plain angry about this situation but she was never going to let it show. Especially not to her new daughter-in-law’s face, anyway. I recognized it instantly after enduring a lifetime of it.
Kat ducked her head demurely as if embarrassed and rolled her swollen lips into her mouth.
“It’s my fault,” I said after clearing my throat. “My wife is so gorgeous that I couldn’t go another second without kissing her.”
Mother laid a hand on my arm and smiled, gave a fake laugh and turned to Kat. “Of course. I was a newlywed once myself, you know. It wasn’t so long ago that I can’t remember how that felt. Lucas was a honeymoon baby, after all.”
Ugh. No thanks for that mental image.
My mother, still focusing on Kat, gave one of her sickly sweet high society smiles while settling her free hand over her heart. Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?
“I just want to let you know again how thrilled we are to have you in our family.”
Kat’s eyes widened, and she gave a small smile. “Oh, thank you. That’s very kind. I’m happy to be here.”
Mother darted an unreadable look at me and then proceeded to talk quickly. A sudden sinking in my stomach warned me only seconds before the words were out of her mouth.
“We’re having a family reunion up at the vineyard next month. I have to ask, since we weren’t able to attend the wedding, we’d love for you to be there—”
“Mother, I’ve already said we need to work—”
She pivoted on me. “It’s only for a long weekend. No one—not even you—needs to work that much. And there’ll be relatives you haven’t seen in ages, from the east coast and from the Netherlands.”
My back went rigid with anger, frustrated at her typical refusal to listen to anything I had to say. Kat’s head jerked quickly to look at me. Our gazes met and there was something there. That anger from before and also a little of her signature feistiness.
I turned back to my mother to head Kat off. “For the last time—”
“We’d love to. That sounds wonderful,” Kat overrode me.
Mother ignored me completely and honed in on her new daughter-in-law, whom she was, even now, most likely categorizing as an ally. Fuuuuck.
I shot a glare at Kat and Mother caught it. “Oh Lucas, don’t be like that. It will be fun. Romantic. We’ll put you up in the Lover’s Villa guest house all by yourselves. The reunion is going to be fantastic with amazing food, games and there’s the new spa we just had built. It will be the honeymoon you should have given her when you got married.”
Great. More recrimination. Still more expectations I had not lived up to. Because why not? I hadn’t already disappointed them enough, which seemed to be their unspoken message to me in practically every single phrase they uttered. And now my only ally, Kat, had become a turncoat.
“We have to go now,” I ground out between clenched teeth. Apparently I used such harsh tones that Kat’s face registered shock and Mother… Mother just drew back and gave me that look. That Lucas is crazy look. I’d seen that a lot in the past six years, too.
Without another word, I turned and stormed out of the room, directly headed to the front door. I didn’t give a damn if Kat was behind me. I heard the word “drinking” behind me, as if Kat was making my drunken excuses.
Which pissed me off even more.
Fuck it. I might even chance a DUI if it was the only way to get my ass out of here. I was already yelling at one of the poor valets—a new guy I didn’t know—to bring my car around.
Kat was at my shoulder a moment later. “Let me drive.”
“Sure,” I muttered. “What will you do for an encore, wreck my car?”
The valet glanced from one of us to the other when his boss, Armando, the family’s regular driver, walked up. “Madam would like me to drive you both home safely. Jerry can follow behind us with your car, Mister Lucas.”
Kat’s eyes widened and then she shot a glance at me. I avoided her eyes and rubbed my forehead. It was, after all, the most sensible suggestion. “Yeah, all right. That’s fine.”
Shortly thereafter, we were seen off by my parents at the front curb. Father was still scowling from earlier and Mother had on the brave face, her mouth only trembling a little. And me, in all my buzzed euphoria didn’t give a rats ass that I was the endless source of frustration, hand-wringing and sorrow for my parents. Just by choosing to pursue the life I wanted instead of the one they’d planned out for me.
We exchanged short goodbyes in which Kat, apparently had earned a quick hug from my mother and a curt ‘welcome to the family’ from Father for her troubles.
My jaw tightened, witnessing this. Well she wouldn’t be enjoying her revenge quite so much once we were stuck in Napa, unable to escape the cursed ‘Family Reunion.’
We settled into the back seat of the town car and she gave a long sigh. “Holy shit. I need a drink.”
So did I. And as far as I knew, Father never stocked the car with booze. This wasn’t a party limo, after all. And the last word I’d use to describe this ride home would be a party, pleasantly buzzed or not.