Dirty Sexy Alphas (Twenty Book Box Set) - Hannah Ford Page 0,76

over my shoulder to see if anyone had noticed the exchange. You didn’t have to hear his words to fill in the blanks.

“Uh-oh,” I whispered, as Alexa walked in the front door. She had enough sense to wear a black dress, but the waist had a slash of red. Like even in this, she had to be defiant. Had to make a statement.

“Did she even know your father?” I asked.

“No. She never met him. Hell, I told her he’d died years ago.”

“So why is she here?”

But before he could answer, she was striding up to us, her lip jutted out and her eyebrows furrowed in a look of almost real concern.

She all but elbowed her way between us, and she went to hug him, but he took an enormous step back, holding his hand sup. “What the hell are you doing, Alexa?”

“I heard about your father. I’m so sorry. I know how you felt about him.”

I tried to ignore the prickles of unease. Did she know? It was such a vague thing to say. It didn’t prove anything.

But I hated picturing them together, hated picturing the idea of him confessing his deepest secrets to this woman.

“Cut the crap, Alexa. You don’t know shit about him. And you don’t belong here, just like you don’t belong at my company.”

“Our company,” she corrected. “And I’m your wife. I’m trying to be here for you. I don’t understand why you’re being so hostile.”

“Because everything is a game to you, and this is just another move. I don’t appreciate you being here, and I want you to go.”

His voice was rising, and I rested a hand on his arm, signaling him to quiet.

“I’m going to sit up front, with family,” he said. “I don’t want you near me.”

She turned her gaze from him to me, narrowing her eyes. Her lips pursed together, and I could tell she was debating on saying something else. On challenging me.

I stared her dead in the eye, waiting, until he tugged me away, led me to the front pew.

A pastor walked in, his head ducked in solemn silence as he made his way to the podium at the edge of the dais.

“Welcome, and please find your seats,” he said, his voice carrying across the space. He was confident, comfortable, and it felt strange to realize he must welcome different families into this space with each passing week. I wondered how well he knew each family, if he had any idea that this family wasn’t entirely mourning the man in the casket at the front.

Then again, maybe some people were mourning this man. I glanced down the pew, to where Landon’s mother sat in a wrinkled black dress. He eyes were downturned, a Kleenex crumped in her fist.

In high school, Annie had met a guy who swept her off her feet. Who said everything she’d ever wanted to hear, and took her out to fancy dinners in the city. Annie would float home and then call me, rehashing every perfect thing he’d said.

Hell, he told her she was perfect, that he couldn’t find any fault in her. She relished every word, but the whole thing put me on edge. Sometimes he’d say something under his breath, and the light in her eyes would dim. Sometimes he’d grab her arm, a little too hard.

Somewhere along the way, Annie lost herself. The gregarious, louder-than-life girl I’d always known became a shadow, always excusing what her boyfriend said or did.

It exploded at the school dance, when he shoved her into a bay of lockers. Matt knocked him out with one punch, and she spent the next three days at my house, filling me on everything he’d ever said and done. It took her months to go back to who she’d been before. He’d dug into her, made her think that she was worthless. That she deserved his abuse, and that it was excusable.

And as I flicked glances over at his mom, taking in her genuine grief, I couldn’t help but wonder if the same thing was happening here. She had to have been with Landon’s dad for nearly thirty years. He’d probably twisted her around, made her feel alone and worthless, until he was all she had left.

And then he died. And now she was in this world alone. If Landon hadn’t in the picture—if she hadn’t stood by while her husband had turned his fists on his own son—I would feel more empathy for her. For the loss I knew she was