Page 54 of Spin the Damn Bottle

That's not exactly my point.

"You think?" Maverick's father snorts. "You bluebloods have no notion of reality."

"You're one to talk, Eaton. Half of your ancestors trace back to the Mayflower," Viola Billington interrupts.

The conversation changes course, as Charles pours us generous flutes of champagne. "Thank you," I say when he hands me mine.

"Anything for my future daughter-in-law." He redirects his attention to his wife, and I turn back to Jason.

"I can't believe you threw me to the wolves."

“Hardly. They don't care, Nadia."

I can believe that now that I've met them.

“My father has old-school ideas, but my mother wears the pants in the relationship," he continues. "And she used to be dirt poor. She doesn't want me to marry for money. What she says goes, in this household."

"Poor?"I gape at him. “You can’t be serious.” Lauren is the perfect socialite, entirely at ease in this setting.

“Well, the Heritage taught her well.” Jason winks.

So, she was one of the club's recruits. After what I've heard of their initiation, I flush.

I've ascended into a different world altogether. Someplace where what I thought I knew doesn’t apply.

No wonder I don’t quite understand Jason.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

I suck at skiing. In fact, I suck so much I almost break my neck multiple times, but somehow, despite the immediate danger to my life, I’m having a lot of fun.

Jason sticks with me although he's been skiing since before he could walk. He's so comfortable on the snow, zooming backwards and forwards and sideways around me. In almost all things, his level so far above mine it’s not even funny. Even so, he seems to be having a good time just teaching me how to slide along the slopes like a penguin, holding my hand when the incline is sharper than I'm comfortable with. We spend the whole morning laughing and goofing around in the crisp fresh air. Although it's sunny, I don't think I've ever been this cold in my entire life.

Jason bought me exorbitant but appropriate mountain gear at the sporting goods store where I was fitted for skies. He wanted to buy those, too, but I convinced him we should just rent them. We're only here for a few days.

The Aldens aren't "renting people", according to his grumbles, but he let me win this one.

It's nice. Spending time with Jason, just me and him, away from Cross and Roses, the craziness of the city, and potential psychos wanting to hurt me.

After hours of exercise, I’m more than happy to settle in at the cabin for a warm hot chocolate spiked with rum, and enjoy the outdoor jacuzzi. After lunch, I tell Jason to join his parents for a real exercise session on the slopes, but he is more than happy to stick with me and get his endurance exercise in the bed instead.

I get some time to catch up on a novel I'd meant to read, and Jason works remotely on a club issue. I hear something about bringing in a new DJ, an acrobat, and a trendy brand of gin. His tone is so professional when he talks over the phone, I doubt his interlocutors imagine that they're dealing with an eighteen-year-old. Although to be fair, who doesn't know Jason Alden these days?

The first night, I'm horrified when I hear the bed above our ceiling squeak, with the sound of muffled moans. "What the hell?”

"That would be my parents."

"Oh my god, aren't you mortified?"

Imagining Mr. and Mrs. Alden going at it like monkeys,I want to hide, and they're not even my parents.

"Hardly," he chuckles, because of course, he's Jason Alden, above such things as shame. "It’s a given they fuck, or I wouldn't be here. Don't you hear your parents go at it?"

"Never." Thank fuck.

This somehow makes him laugh harder. "Someday, you should ask them why."

"Right. My parents. I'll just go up to them and ask, ‘so, why aren't you guys screwing?’ I should also check what their favorite positions are while I'm at it."