“Three months,” Addie answers, sliding her untouched plate toward me. “You can have that.”
“Can Colt not speak, or is he as ignorant as all the other charity cases you bring home?” Victoria seethes.
“That’s enough,” Henry snaps, his tone level but sharp enough to cut glass. “You willimmediatelyapologize, Victoria.”
“There’s no need.” I hold her lethal gaze. “It’s only natural for a mother to be protective over her daughter.”
She nonchalantly turns her head, glaring at Henry. Amara quickly starts a new topic, drawing everyone’s attention. Within moments Victoria excuses herself, heading straight for the bar.
It seems a little early to start downing drinks if you ask me.
Addie grabs my hand under the table, squeezing hard three times, her beautiful, big eyes full of apologies. The smile on my lips doesn’t reassure her. She looks ready to flee.
Aware we’re under scrutiny, I close the distance between us, kissing her head as I mutter, “I think she compared me to Emmanuel. I’ll take it. You like that pig.”
“You’re impossible,” she huffs, doing a lousy job of biting back a laugh. “She’ll go out of her way to provoke you now.”
“Let her try.”
“Colt.” Henry’s suddenly behind me, stealthy as a mountain lion. I need to keep that in mind. He drops both hands on my shoulders, squeezing once. “Come on, let’s have a smoke.”
THIRTEEN
Addie
MY MOTHER HUMILIATEDor embarrassed me in front of people on many,manyoccasions, but not once has her acid-dripping disdain made me feel as bad as when she spoke to Colt.
Comparing him to an abandoned animal, like I’m only with him out of pity...
I know her well enough to read between the lines. She wasn’t just saying Colt’s a phase, that he’s a project I’ve taken on to kill time. No, she dug deeper, ridiculing his social status, and accentuating the financial gap.
He’s well-off. Owns a beautiful house. The cars I saw in his garage, the watch, his clothes—all expensive. If I were to venture a guess, I’d say he’s worth at least five million, but in my mothers’ eyes millions are spare change.
Dad’s fortune is worth over thirty-fivebilliondollars. Anyone who’s not part of the ten-digit elite doesn’t matter.
Grant is an unfortunate exception because his life’s mission is to hit ten digits. He’s twenty-four, already worth nine, so ten is just a matter of time. He’s also a huge ass-kisser and has made a considerable effort to get into my mother’s good graces over the years.
I look toward the bow ofSerenitywhere Dad’s engrossed in conversation with Colt and my brother, Ben.
The happiness I felt when Colt agreed to spend the week with me, so I could avoid Grant, now withers away. I’m anything but happy. I’m disappointed. Mostly in myself. Focused on making sureIwould be fine, I didn’t consider what would happen to Colt.
I’ve not known him long, but it’s clear as day that he’s a good person. Despite the brazen arrogance he radiates, despite the controlling, dominating aura, he’s goodinside. It was clear when he was talking about his family during the flight. The fondness in his voice when he mentioned his nephews, placing a particular focus onthe twin chaos generators, as he calls Conor’s sons... yeah, he’s agoodperson.
And he doesn’t deserve any shit from my mother no matter how well he can take it.
I wish I’d never asked him to come. It’s only day two and I’m already wondering how to send him home, away from this shitshow. My mother’s behavior will scare him off, we’ll never have that date he promised, and I like him too much to let Mom ruin this for me.
She stands at the bar, her shoulders squared, a phone to her ear, her other hand flying about as she gesticulates, showing off her exasperation in case anyone hasn’t noticed. I bet she’s ordering the concierge to restock her minibar. Or maybe she’s venting to her best friend who broke her hip the other day and couldn’t make the cruise.
What. A.Pity.
“Ignore her,” my brother says, taking Colt’s empty seat.
Other than Amara chatting to her maid of honor at the far end of the table, no one else is seated. Most of the guests are lounging on comfy couches or indulging in a morning swim on the third deck while they wait for the first task.
“She’s about as easy to ignore as a buzzing fly at three in the morning,” I mumble, finishing my coffee.
Maybe I should follow my mother’s lead and order a glass of red... Drowning my foul mood in a bottle of Château Lafite?Rothschild Pauillac sounds tempting but getting drunk at half past nine in the morning while my mother lingers nearby is a recipe for disaster.
