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“Well, you young people enjoy yourselves. Heracles and I are going for our morning stroll.” And she steps into the lift and presses Ground.
Once the doors close, I turn to Alessia, she bursts out laughing, and I join her. I pull her into my arms. “I’m sorry about that.”
“She is, what did you say…oh, yes, eccentric.”
“Yes. She certainly is. Now, I have one duty to perform.” I lift her into my arms, and she squeals in surprise. Holding her against me, I slide the key into the front door, open it, and step across the threshold with her in my arms.
I set her on the floor and kiss her, hoping to continue what we started in the lift, when I realize the alarm isn’t on. We both look up, and there’s a “Welcome Home” banner draped over the double doors at the end of the hallway.
Suddenly, Caroline, Tom, Joe, Maryanne, and Henrietta appear at the doors. “Surprise!” they yell.
Fuck a duck!
Chapter Ten
Alessia and I stand in the hall, bewildered and tired from our journey. Mrs. Blake, Caroline’s housekeeper, appears at the kitchen door holding a tray of drinks, and I’m struck dumb.
What the ever-fucking-hell is this?
“Welcome home, Maxim, Alessia.” With a smile plastered on her face, Caroline steps forward cautiously, holding out her arms in welcome.
Has she been drinking? Already?
This is very un-Caro-like behavior.
“Hi,” I say, bemused, as she hugs me and then Alessia.
“Welcome back, Alessia,” she says, a little too brightly.
“Hello,” Alessia whispers, and I can tell from the waver in her voice that she’s rattled too.
My friends surge forward to welcome us while Mrs. Blake serves everyone drinks. Buck’s Fizz, champagne, or freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Well, this is a surprise. No, shock, actually. But thank you,” I mutter to Caro.
“I thought a celebratory brunch would be in order to welcome you home, and it’s a sort of apology.” She shrugs impishly and grabs a glass of champagne. I suspect it’s not her first.
Mrs. Blake offers the tray to Alessia with what I can only describe as a hostile smile. “My lady,” she says, her tone terse. Alessia thanks her and takes a glass of champagne.
Frowning at Mrs. Blake—in the hope that I’ve misinterpreted her frosty expression—I take a glass of orange juice.
She flushes. “Nice to have you back, my lord.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blake. I hope you and Mr. Blake are well.” I give her a pointed look, and she gives me a sweet smile, so maybe I’m imagining her less than warm reception of my wife—though she didn’t offer us congratulations.
Maryanne hooks her arms around us both and propels us toward the drawing room, where the table is set for brunch.
Okay. We’re doing this.
And all I really want to do is take my wife to bed.
And fuck and then sleep.
But Henrietta, Tom’s girlfriend, is there and it’s great to see her. She is a beacon of light compared to his pugnacious darkness.
“Maxim, I’m so thrilled for you. Congratulations.” She hugs me.
“Henry, how lovely to see you. This is Alessia, my wife.”
* * *
The grease and grime from the journey stick to Alessia’s skin, and here she is, in Maxim’s apartment, with… guests. His friends. What she’d like to do is have a quick shower and change. Beneath the black tailored jacket, she’s wearing her “It’s better at Basil’s” T-shirt that Maxim bought for her at a bar on Mustique—and her jeans. She’d prefer to be a little more formal for his friends, but leaving them right now would be rude.
And these women, they all look impeccable.
Especially Caroline.
“Hello, Alessia. It’s lovely to meet you,” Henry says. Her voice is melodic, measured, and sweet, and she has the face of an angel framed by soft sepia-brown curls. Her tawny eyes are warm and brimming with sincerity.
“How do you do?” Alessia replies, feeling immediately at ease with her.
“There she is!” Tom says and engulfs Alessia in a huge hug. “I do hope he’s treating you well, Alessia. I’ll horsewhip him if he’s not.”
Alessia laughs. “It’s good to see you, Tom.”
“When was the last time you were near a horse?” Caroline scoffs. “Your polo-playing days are long over.”
Henry frowns at Caroline, and there’s a slight lull in the conversation, and Alessia notices Maxim and Joe are frowning too.
“Alessia,” Joe says after a beat and hugs her. “You look so well. Did you have a great time? Where did you guys go? Maxim kept all the deets to himself.” He flashes bright white teeth in a broad contagious smile. He looks so smart in his suit—and Alessia realizes he must always dress like this, even on a Saturday.
Maxim slips his arm around her and kisses her hair. “We had a wonderful time. In Tirana and Mustique, if you must know.”
“We did,” Alessia agrees shyly. “And Paris.”
“That sounds heavenly,” Caroline exclaims. “I hope you’re all hungry. Dear Mrs. Blake has cooked up a storm.”
