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His reassurance smooths the knot in my stomach.
Ben gets out of the car, rounding the vehicle toward my door.
“Are you ready?” Alexander asks.
I nod. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
The door to the SUV opens a second later, and a rush of icy air enters the cabin. Pulling Alex’s coat around my shoulders, I step out onto the white-stone paved walkway. My legs feel like jelly, but I don’t stumble. There’s the urge to keep my eyes trained on the ground, to fall back into myself, but I force the feeling away.
I straighten my spine and tilt my head to meet Ben’s gaze as he moves aside for me to pass. His face is impassive, but his dark eyes are filled with curiosity. I’ve seen that look before. He’s trying to figure me out. That’s what it’s like in this world, after all. You’re always being assessed for your weaknesses.
I shoot him a smile, and it catches him off guard. He looks away.
Alex’s hand on my shoulder guides me forward with him, and that’s when I finally look at the group of people assembled to welcome us.
Most of them look like staff members. The women and some of the men wear matching black and white outfits—the women in white dresses with black buttons down the front, and black mock collars, while the men are dressed in long-sleeved white shirts, black tailored pants and black bowties. There are two men dressed similarly to Ben, who I figure must be part of the security detail.
At one end of the line of people, standing closest to the door, is a graying man with dark eyes and a scowl. He stands taller than the rest, his dark hair slicked back from his face, dressed in a navy suit. The first two buttons of his shirt are undone, and a cigarette hangs from his lips.
Alex’s hand on my shoulder tightens the moment the man’s eyes land on us and I swear the tension in the air ratchets up a notch. No words have been exchanged yet, but I already know the most important thing.
This man is Alexander’s father.
Instead of approaching him first, Alexander introduces me to everyone else. We go down the line of people sequentially. There’s tension in the eyes of the staff, but they give me bright smiles and kind words all the same—some even hug Alexander.
The last two people we meet seem to be the most important.
Wesley, the head of Alex’s security detail, and Ingrid, the majordomo.
Wesley stands a head shorter than Alexander, but he looks a few years older than him. He’s got a head of curly brown hair, and the outline of a muscular frame is obvious beneath his black suit. A faded scar stretches the width of his crooked nose, pulling the attention away from his honey-brown eyes.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alize,” Wesley says, taking my hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
I’m frozen for a heartbeat, and Ingrid titters beside me. Alexander socking him in the side of his head pulls me back to reality. He’s furious, and I almost think he’s going to take it further when Wesley starts to laugh.
“You should see your face,” Wesley grins, meeting Alexander’s death stare head-on. “You look like you’re about to try and kill me.”
Alex scowls. “Watch yourself.” The telltale edge in his voice isn’t there though. He must be fond of Wesley in some sort of way because I’ve seen him flatten people for less.
Ingrid reaches between them to pull me toward her. She’s around the same height as me, with a round pale face and rosy cheeks. She’s got curly brown hair too, but hers is pulled back in a low ponytail at the base of her neck.
“Oh, don’t worry about them, love,” she coos. “They like to play.”
Alex breaks out of his spat with Wesley then, drifting over to my side. Ingrid gives him a knowing smile and pinches his cheek.
“Every time you leave, you come back looking like you haven’t eaten a good meal in months,” she scolds. “Look at ya, pale as ever.”
Sighing but smiling, Alex wraps a hand around Ingrid.
“It’s a good thing I have you to fatten me up again,” he chuckles, and Ingrid swats him away playfully. “What’s for dinner?”
“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know,” Ingrid teases. “I have food for Alize but none for you.”
Alex grins, letting go of Ingrid to hold on to me. “As long as she’s taken care of, I’ll be fine.”
Ingrid looks between us, pleased. From the easy banter between them, I guess Ingrid must have played a huge part in raising Alex—especially after his mom died, if I had to guess. Ingrid is his Dolores, and even though there’s the telltale pang of missing her, my eyes water that there’s somebody here who cares about him that much.
The tears fall. What the fuck is happening?
