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“Hello to you, too, Alice.” Christian chuckles beside her. “Forgot your manners?”
She turns to hug and kiss him too. “Outgrew them when I became a widow. Life’s too short to be a well-behaved lady.”
A-fucking-men.
The pianist begins playing “Friends in Low Places.” At my request. Not only is it apt now that Douglas is worm food, but I also know how much my father despised country music. It’s my tongue-in-cheek farewell.
“Christian, Riggs, Alice, so nice of you to show your respects.” Grace parts the throngs of people, approaching us. She is wearing an off-shoulder black dress and a dramatic eyeliner. She looks impeccable even in grief.
In the ten days since my father passed away, Grace has been acting like a ghost of her former self. She took days off, which I thought she was physically incapable of doing. Most days, she didn’t leave bed before noon. I know there’s more to her behavior than Douglas, and the only reason I’m not pressing for information is because I’m letting things play out organically to see where her mind’s at.
Grace reaches to shake both my friends’ hands, then pivots to Arya on her pointy heels.
“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name. Christian’s new girlfriend, right?”
Arya smiles, letting the intentional insult roll off her back. “You can call me Arya. Or Christian’s wife. I’m not picky.”
“My bad.” Grace lets out a throaty chuckle. “Understandably, I’m a bit too preoccupied these days to keep up with your little gang.”
I remind myself that this woman is perfect for me. For multiple reasons. All of them practical and hardheaded. We have the same taste, the same values, the same wants. Christian has Arya, and look—they’re happy. As happy as his miserable ass can be, I suppose. My stepsister and I can have that too. Or at least a fucked-up version of it.
Yes, Grace can be obnoxious, but so can I. Conquering Grace’s heart has always been my end goal. A few vulgar remarks to my friends aren’t gonna change that.
“Sorry for your loss,” Christian tells Grace in a voice that indicates he couldn’t be happier she’s suffering. All three of my friends know what Grace did to me when we were kids. None of them have found any redeemable qualities in her current, adult version.
“Thank you. It was so horrible for me.” Grace clutches her pearls.
“For Arsène, too, I bet,” Arya points out.
“Of course.” Grace waves flippantly. “It’s just that . . . well, Doug and I had been really close. We had something special, you know?”
“If I had a penny for every time a leggy woman in this room said those words . . .” Riggs chuckles behind his wineglass. “Including your mother, now that I think of it.”
Alice lets out a rowdy laugh. Arya joins her.
“Because that’s what you need.” Arya pins Riggs with a playful glare. “A fatter bank account.”
Riggs is a billionaire who needs more money like Grace needs more diamonds. The best part is that despite his wealth, he lives an appallingly modest life. His lack of need to impress drives him to say things no one else in the room would ever think of uttering. Which is why he’d just handed my girlfriend her ass.
“For shame, Riggs. Not everything is a joke.” Grace withdraws dramatically.
“Get off your high horse, sweet cheeks.” Riggs knocks back his drink. “We both know what drew you to the Corbins, and it’s not their character. No offense, Ars.”
“None taken, asshole.” I raise my drink to him.
“This whole conversation is tasteless and inappropriate.” Grace stares Riggs down. She wants an apology, but that’s never going to happen.
Riggs inclines his head, feigning grief. “My apologies, Grace. Please, tell me more about appropriateness. There’s no one I wish to get a lecture from more than a woman who fucks her stepbrother.”
“Hmm.” Christian swirls his drink, looking into it. “Definitely been to more traditional funerals in my lifetime, but I prefer this one. Pretty action packed.”
Grace’s face reddens. She turns to look at me, expecting me to intervene. “Are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me like that?” she demands.
I smooth out my suit. “I can sit down if you prefer.”
Arya lets out a strangled giggle, and so does Alice.
“Well, thanks for coming. It is appreciated.” Grace turns around, fuming, then stomps her way back to her mother and a cluster of her friends.
Christian elbows me, gesturing with his drink toward her. “Remind me what you see in her again?”
“Beauty. Elegance. Lack of submission.”
“You know who also fits this bill?” Alice yawns. “A cheetah, and I wouldn’t share a bed with one.”
“She puts the ass in nasty.” Riggs waxes poetic, plucking another drink from a tray nearby.
I watch Grace’s shapely calves as she swaggers off. “That’s a feature, buddy. Not a bug.”
“I can’t believe this is coming from me, but you’re going to regret checking that woman’s oil.” Riggs whistles low.
