We’re standing on the front steps of a sprawling gray stone chateau. And on a street crowded with impressive real estate, this one outshines them all. If the iron gates and hedge lined driveway leading to immaculate lawns and gardens didn’t spell it out already, it’s obvious we’re deep in rich people land. On the drive over, Beck distracted me, pointing out various Denver landmarks and so on. With Smith in the car, I couldn’t ask all the things I wanted to. I did tell him the story of my grand exit from the bar, but we need privacy to really talk things over. Judging by all the people around, I highly doubt we’ll be getting it anytime soon.
“What are you, Denver royalty or something?” I ask.
He smiles. “You’re funny.”
While Beck is as calm as can be in the face of all this, I am distinctly less so. “This is a bad idea.”
“Come on, it’ll be fine,” he says, leading me inside. “You’re here with me. That’s all that matters.”
He’s right. I take a deep breath and try to squash down my feelings of inadequacy. They might all be perfectly valid, but it doesn’t make them relevant. As hard as it might be to get it through my head, Beck’s father’s funeral isn’t all about me.
Beyond the double wood doors, people spill out of rooms on either side of a large two-story foyer. Everyone is dressed in immaculate black suits and elegant dresses. Servants in neat uniforms circulate with trays of drinks and appetizers. High overhead hangs a beyond spectacular chandelier. And already, people are looking at us. Not surprising. My sneakers squeak on the marble floor. Dammit.
“There you are,” says a tall dude about a decade older than Beck. They actually look a little alike. Only this guy’s dark hair is cut short and there’s none of the boyishness left in his face. His dark suit is tailored to perfection. It’s like he’s the poster child for suave and serious. He gives me a brief glance before raising a brow at our joined hands. “Meeting in the library. Now.”
“Alice, this is my half brother Ethan,” says Beck, though the dude is already walking away. “Ethan, this is my Alice.”
I go to smile in greeting, but then I don’t. Because this is a funeral and not a smiling occasion. Not that his brother is even looking. Ethan just raises a hand in a brief wave-like gesture as he cuts through the crowd.
“Guess we better go.” Beck moves to lead me on.
“I don’t think he meant me.”
“But we’re sticking together, right?” he asks, bringing his face in close to mine. “I mean, I think we should. You’re not safe among this crowd without your Taser, Alice. Someone could try to trade you in for some new Louis Vuitton or the latest Gucci or something. Fuck knows what could happen without me here to protect you.”
“Beck…”
The man is a force of nature. Or I just suck at telling him no. A bit of both, maybe?
Then a woman steps out in front of him, drawing him to an abrupt halt. I half stumble into his back. All around us, everyone seems to be paying attention to this encounter, the chatter falling quiet. I have a bad feeling about this.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” says the woman, placing a hand on his chest. The touch does not seem familial. She’s pretty and petite with dark hair and tanned skin. And in her black sheath dress, stiletto heels, and diamonds dangling from her ears, she fits in perfectly. I, on the other hand, do not. Beck’s fingers tighten around mine as if he’s worried I might try to bolt.
“Yeah.” Beck nods, taking a step back to remove himself from her reach. His tone of voice is distinctly unhappy. Angry, even. “And I one hundred and ten percent plan to keep on doing so.”
We’re off again, angling around the now furious woman and moving through the crowd even faster than before. I’m basically being dragged in Beck’s wake, his grip on my hand resolute.
“Who was that?” I ask, trying to keep up.
“Someone who lost my good opinion.”
“I see.” I do not see. In fact, I have no damn clue about this or anything else going on around us.
We turn right at a grand piano and head down a hallway lined with formal family portraits, paintings of landscapes, and the occasional antique-looking side table, each topped with a vase overflowing with white roses. A dozen or so