Chapter Ten
Alex
Thasos looks more lavish than ever with each Macedon family merging into the expansive lounge. Gold, black, and silver decorations glitter in every available space as I sit at a round table reserved for my family. My mother drapes herself over her chair like she’s a fashion model with Amos claiming her side, the two of them cozying up to each in the grossest of ways. The sight of them trading affection publicly makes my stomach flip and I search for Lev, hoping to find solace in his eyes.
Soft murmurs fill the room as each table fills up. The Somervilles sit to my left with the Pershings to my right. Directly across from me are the Dvornikovs with the D’Hautpouls lounging adjacent to them. Tomas looks bored—and possibly stoned—while Lev looks pensive. Parker remains expressionless while Soren forces a smile. I can tell by the way his lips curl that he’s biting back some heavy words, though I’m not entirely certain what’s up his ass.
Osmond stands and taps his champagne flute with a spoon. “Friends, I appreciate your attendance at our luncheon on the last day of this year. I would like to propose a toast…”
I roll my eyes, thinking, Here we go.
“To my son and his gorgeous new bride,” Osmond continues while raising his glass toward me. “May they find happiness in their future.”
Fletcher Pershing scoffs, coarsely stating, “Just because Parker forced himself on the girl doesn’t mean she has to marry him.”
Soren’s expression sours, and his eyes darken as he looks at his father. “Which son of yours is going to marry her now?”
“Nothing is set in stone,” Anatoly Dvornikov agrees with a smirk. He sips his champagne and sighs, adding, “Especially when she doesn’t even have a ring.”
Osmond’s smile droops. “Well, the boy hasn’t found the right one yet.”
Gilbert D’Hautpoul laughs. When I look at his table, I see Marie teetering in her seat while trying to balance a glass of wine in her left hand. Tomas looks like he’s about to be ill and Adelaide remains stoic, keeping her eyes on the plate of pancakes in front of her. She’s hardly touched them.
“Does she even want a ring from him?” Gilbert poses thoughtfully. “Or is he going to force that too?”
My lips tighten in a fine line. It’s not like any of these men are actually concerned for my well-being. The only reason they’re arguing right now is that they want their sons to marry me. That’s it. End of story.
There’s nothing special about any of their interjections.
“I’m waiting for Alex to tell me what kind of ring she wants,” Parker claims confidently. “None of you jerks would bother asking her.”
“You didn’t even propose to her,” Soren argues. “You just announced it like it was fine.”
“You didn’t propose to her,” Fletcher snaps at his son. “And you’ve disappointed me for the last time.”
Anatoly points at Lev and says, “Did you even bother trying to propose at all?”
As the fathers and sons fall into their miniature debates, I sink into my chair, feeling like the entire room is just dying to drive me crazy. It’s just like the boathouse where the boys argued over me like I wasn’t even in the fucking room. And now, it’s happening here.
Who wants me more—the fathers or the sons?
Frustration boils in my gut while my mother and Amos largely ignore the cacophony erupting around them. They don’t even seem fazed by the noise, too occupied by each other and their champagne. I search for Lev again, trying my best to keep it together when I realize he’s just as invested in bickering with his father as the rest of them.
What kind of fool do they all think I am?
With a screech, I stand up and slap the table. “Will you all shut the hell up?”
The room plunges into silence as all eyes turn to me.
I’m fuming by the time I have everyone’s attention. “Why would I want to marry any of you? What the hell have you done for me or my family? Huh?”
Crickets.
Each family is struck by my outburst. Either they’re in shock or they don’t have a response. It’s a bad look either way.
I clench my fists at my side and continue, “My father’s killer hasn’t been punished, and you’re already circling like vultures. Is this any way to put him to rest?”
I storm out of the room before anyone can dare to reply. I feel their eyes following me, my cheeks burning red with a mixture of agitation and embarrassment. I never was one for public speaking.