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Whiskeyseareditsburningpath down my throat. Three drinks still hadn’t budged the heavy feeling that gripped me in Dad’s mansion. We should have sold the place. Mother had insisted we keep it. She wanted to hold on to the memories of the good times. It didn’t matter that it made me sick to my stomach anytime I glimpsed the staircase. I’d never left the ground floor since that night.
A firm grip on my elbow pulled me out of my reverie. Mother raised an expectant eyebrow and snatched the whiskey out of my hand. “You’ve had enough of those. Why aren’t you mingling, darling?”
She smiled through thin lips and waved at a couple of men in suits. She lowered her voice to a hiss. “I hate those bastards. This party is a charm offensive. The foundation is falling apart. I need you on your best behavior.”
I put a hand over my heart and spoke in a bland, innocent tone. “I’m doing my best. I’ve just been snorting coke off a stripper’s arse in the cloak room. I’m planning on setting fire to a few things later.”
She raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “I don’t like your jokes, Gabe.”
“Yes. I understand you’re not a fan of humor.”
That’s when I saw her. Emma swanned into the reception room swathed in an elegant jade dress, a glass of champagne in her hand. A wave of conflicting emotions passed over me. My throat burned with anger as my stomach hardened with disappointment.
Mother craned her neck and gave Emma an enthusiastic wave.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“I’m saying hello to Emma, darling.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma and I got on like a house on fire. It’s not my fault you break the heart of every woman unlucky enough to cross your path.”
Emma sashayed around, greeting friends. She moved like a dancer, with grace and power. How had she had the audacity to come back here? Our paths hadn’t crossed sincethat night. She raised her head; her eyes locked with mine. She frowned and her gaze slipped away. Numbness smothered me.
Emma stopped to talk to a tall man in a tux. He slipped his arm around her waist, pulled her close, and kissed her. So, Emma had moved on. No surprises there. She’d never cared about me, anyway.
Mother clucked her tongue in annoyance. “That one was a keeper, darling. You let yourself down when you let her go.”
People began to dance. I watched Emma and her new man join in the fun. Despite everything, I hadn’t wanted people’s last memories of Dad to be jaded by that night. Everyone had assumed that I’d jilted Emma. All kinds of nasty rumors were flying round. Not only had I pushed my father down the stairs, I’d dumped the world’s most beloved movie star. I downed the rest of my whiskey. It only served to make my stomach twist with nausea. The raucous sounds of laughter and music filled the air.
Mother’s face softened as much as it could. “Your father always liked a good party.”
A grim, scratchy feeling filled my chest. He would have loved tonight. Yes. We were surrounded with all the things closest to Dad’s heart—booze, revelry, and women.
Mother took a sip of her champagne and grimaced. “Are you still sulking about the team?”
I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of thinking she’d bothered me. “I don’t sulk.”
Mum peered over my shoulder as if looking for someone more interesting to talk to. The floor packed with happy, smiling couples. For some reason, the hot blonde I’d seen playing football drifted through my mind. She’d been pink cheeked and covered in mud and still she’d been mesmerizing. The things I could do to a woman with a body like that. Still, she was going to be a challenge to win over. She had the no-nonsense, flinty vibe of the locals around her, and she seemed like a woman that didn’t take any bullshit. I’d have to find a new strategy to win her over. She’d want something, even if it wasn’t money. I gave into a small smile. I’d always enjoyed a challenge.
Loud music grated my ears. The smile dropped from my lips and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I pulled the collar of my shirt, suddenly feeling too hot. I couldn’t shake the grim ache that had settled in my chest since I’d watched Emma glide across the room as if she was on the red carpet. The booze had hit, but not in a good, happy way. I needed to get out of here. Nobody liked a depressing drunk.
“I’ll go and do the rounds.”
“Remember to smile, won’t you?” Mother waved a dismissive hand and drifted off to mingle.
Outside, a group of drivers was gathered near the gazebo.
A tall slim man in a suit shoved his phone in his pocket and straightened his hat when he saw me. “Mr. Rivers?”
“It’s just Gabe. Can I bum a cigarette?”
The man nodded and produced a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket. Shielding the flame from the wind with my hand, I lit the cigarette. Smoke poured out of my nose, tickling my lips.
“Thanks. What’s your name?”
“It’s Karl, Mr. Rivers.”
