Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
The words land heavily.
“I thought it best to remain unobtrusive,” I say.
“For the service, perhaps,” he agrees. “But there is a wake at the estate. Close associates. Board members. Family friends.”
I hesitate. I don’t belong there either. Surely, he knows it as well as I do. He studies me carefully.
“Joseph specifically requested that you attend all post-funeral gatherings,” Gavin adds quietly.
My breath catches in my throat. “He did?”
“Yes.”
That hollow space in my chest shifts.
“He wanted you to be present.”
I look back towards the grave one last time, the final resting place of the man I will never meet. Then I glance towards the cluster of black coats and flashing cameras moving through the grounds. And I realize something slowly, painfully inevitable. Joseph Manswell always gets his way. And if he wanted me at this event, Gavin is going to make sure he gets me there. I don’t want to cause a scene, so I nod my agreement.
“Alright,” I say softly.
Gavin inclines his head, satisfied. “Good. Your car is waiting.”
As I follow him towards the line of vehicles, I can’t shake the feeling that my life is about to take an unexpected turn. The funeral was for Joseph Manswell. But the wake? The wake feels like it might be for me.
Chapter
Eight
JO
The wake is held in the mansion’s reception hall, a space so vast that the crystal chandeliers above the room look like they belong in a palace, not a private home. The floor is polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the black suits and dresses of the guests. Their laughter is soft and controlled as they chat politely, the kind of interaction that suggests power and influence rather than warmth.
As I follow Gavin through the double doors, I try to keep my presence small. Even though he insisted I attend, the thought of mingling among people who’ve known my father for decades makes my stomach twist.
And then I see him. Axel Rhodes. A familiar face should help me to feel more relaxed, but the sight of him has the opposite effect on me, and I feel myself shifting uncomfortably as he glances in my direction. He is standing near the grand fireplace, his dark hair neat, his shoulders broad, and his green eyes scanning my face with that same imperious assessment I’ve come to recognize whenever he looks at me. The movement in the room doesn’t seem to touch him. He’s as cold and unapproachable as ever.
“I’ll go and get us some drinks. Why don’t you go and speak to Axel?” Gavin says. He says it loud enough that I know Axel has heard him and so I nod and start towards him as Gavin moves away.
“It was a very moving service,” I say because I can’t think of anything else.
Axel just stares at me, the hostility clear on his face. “Yes, for those who knew Joseph, it was.”
The implication is clear. I didn’t know Joseph so I can’t be moved by it. I don’t know this man and I don’t know why he seems to have such a problem with me, but quite frankly, I’m sick of it, and I’m sick of being the one to make polite conversation while he acts out. I can’t help it. My eyes start to roll of their own accord at his words.
Axel’s gaze finds mine, and he stares at me. Instantly, I feel exposed, caught in a private infraction, an almost childish rebellion against his attitude and the way that my body seems to react to it whenever he’s near me. Even now, even as I look at him with disdain, I can feel my stomach fluttering.
“Do not roll your eyes at me, Miss Button,” he says finally, his voice low and calm, but with an edge.
I tilt my chin up, smirking slightly despite myself. “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so rude,” I reply.
He scoffs, a sound that carries disdain and dislike. “You shouldn’t even be here.”
I hesitate, opening my mouth to agree. He’s right. I thought as much myself until Gavin convinced me to come. I am intruding on something that isn’t mine. But something stops me from saying any of that. My throat tightens in anger, and I feel heat rising in my cheeks. I can’t let him have this.
“I have every right to be here,” I blurt out before I can second-guess myself. “Joseph was my father. And this is his house.”
His green eyes narrow, and his lips press into a thin line as if he’s trying to measure my resolve. For a moment, the world around us seems to disappear. There is just him and me, and the silent storm raging between us.
Axel opens his mouth to say something cutting, I’m sure, but before he can speak, Gavin reappears at my side, bringing his calm authority and impeccable timing. He holds two glasses of what looks like white wine, and he hands one to me. He nods at Axel. “Got something that needs your signature. Catch you later?”