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I remember vague rumblings of a scandal.
Even so, learning that he’s the only son of Joseph Kingsley—the Minister for Police who annoyed me back in the kitchen with his dogged pursuit of Charlie—explains Alex’s innate arrogance. His behaviour finally makes sense. He’s kind of a local legend, an eligible bachelor, catch of the season, or whatever someone in his position would be called in the twenty-first century.
“I’ve seen you around, but you don’t come to parties like Sander does, so I’ve never officially met you.” Alex tries hard to lay on the charm. So much so, he winks at me as he quips, “Even though I’ve been dying to.”
Another blinding white smile erupts at the end of his schmoozing.
I frown at his bizarre performance.
Is he trying to flirt with me or having a stroke?
Shaking his hand when he offers it, I employ my best manners to speed up this awkward encounter with a bunch of polite platitudes. “Nice to officially meet you… I don’t really party much. Although, I’m surprised you’re at the same parties as Sander—aren’t you a little old for…” I trail off when affront tightens Alex’s expression.
Realising that I’ve inadvertently insulted him, I blush.
He grips my hand tight as he rushes to explain away my comment, “Yes, I suppose I am. I’m twenty-two. There’s not much for me to do around here now I’ve finished up at university… plus most of the parties happen in our paddocks since I ordinarily organise them. You should come to the next one. I’ll look after you. Make sure you have a good time.”
When he winks at me again, the heat in my cheeks burns hotter than the sun.
I’m literally battling second hand embarrassment on his behalf.
Surely, he can’t be this awkward… I thought they have finishing schools for the elite.
Or is that only for the girls?
“I’ll think about it.” I scuff my feet on the path in a silent indication that I’m uncomfortable with him and want to end this interaction, only to end up biting back a laugh at the confusion that creeps into his eyes at my circumspect response to his offer to party with him. He’s obviously bewildered that I’m not falling at his feet like all the other girls. “Anyhow, it was nice to meet you, but I need to get going. It’s nearly midnight, and I want to catch up with my friends before the fireworks.”
Keeping a firm grip on my hand, Alex bows.
Then.
He.
Kisses.
My.
Knuckles.
My chest is tight, my stomach aches, my legs like jelly as I try my hardest not to laugh in his face when he says, “It was a pleasure having you run into me. I really hope you take me up on my offer. I think we could have a lot of fun together.”
It takes all of my composure to reply, “Have a good night, Alex,” before I spin around and power-walk away from him. When I reach the outside restrooms, I lock myself into a cubicle, pull the lid down, and collapse onto the closed toilet. Spluttering laughter erupts from my mouth. It’s part amusement at Alex’s eighteenth-century mannerisms, which are frankly ridiculous, however I know that the other half of my mania is a stress response.
Between Zeke, Sander, and Alex, I’ve been put through the ringer tonight.
“Don’t even think about hiding out in here.” Nadia’s voice interrupts my meltdown. I don’t have time to tell her to go away since she picks the lock and pushes the door open. Arms crossed over her chest and disapproval in her eyes, she shakes her head at me. “Only you would find a literal run-in with the son of the richest man in the state funny.”
“He’s a clown,” I retort. “Like, he unironically acts as if life is an Austen novel. I do not find knuckle kisses and bows attractive.”
Confusion swirls in Nadia’s green gaze. “Huh… he’s usually an absolute prick. Maybe you caught him on a good night.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve slept with him?”
My best friend grimaces. “It happened one time. I was high…” I allow her excuse to stand without question because I don’t have it in me to judge what Nadia does to cope with the shit hand life has dealt her. “But that’s not the point.”
“Enlighten me, oh wise one. What is your point?”
“He’s perfect.”
