Chasing Heartbreak (Dark Love #6) - Kat T. Masen Page 0,1
grand in its presence and equipped with every appliance a chef would need.
We stopped at the doors which were open to the enormous yard. Directly in front of us was an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and although Charlie and Lex’s place had quite a large pool, this one was even grander. For someone who grew up in England, pools always fascinated me.
With dusk setting in, the lights were turned on and illuminated the crystal-clear blue water, making the pool mesmerizing with its calming nature.
The trees surrounding us were dressed in fairy lights, brightening the outdoor area and giving it a whimsical feel. Toward the right, across a sizable makeshift dance floor, a small band was playing 1950’s music, which, according to Eric, is his mother’s favorite era.
“Eric, darling, you came.”
A woman, assuming it was his mother judging by the similar facial features, was dressed in a beautiful blush couture gown with a diamond necklace draped around her neck. When I first met him, Eric told me that his mother was of Chinese descent and his father was a full-blooded white American. Together, it caused many issues earlier on in their relationship, but they managed to remain married for over forty years. On closer inspection, I could see where Eric got all his features from.
She kissed both of Eric’s cheeks while holding his hands. With a warm smile, she let go to fix his hair just the way he liked it.
“Mom, this is Kate,” Eric introduced me. “Kate, my mother, Vivian.”
I leaned in to kiss both her cheeks, wishing her a happy birthday at the same time. The scent of Chanel No. 5 lingered in the air between us.
“You’re just as gorgeous as my baby described you,” she said with a gracious tone. “And your accent is just darling.”
“I know, right? I told you, Mom. I should try to find myself a British gay man.”
“Oh, Eric.” She patted him gently on the chest. “Tristan will be back. You’ve got to give monogamy a try.”
I pursed my lips and kept my smile fixed. When it came to matters of the heart, Eric refused to settle down, thinking these years were made for partying and bed-hopping. Though, somehow, he’d fallen in love yet refused to acknowledge said fact.
Basically, he’s a royal pain in the ass and such a high-maintenance friend.
“I must say hello to your uncle and aunt from Boston.” She cupped his chin with pleading eyes. “Please try to talk more than two words with your brother, okay?”
Eric nodded, and the second she was a fair distance away from us, he mumbled something about geeks and small dicks.
“Your mother is beautiful and so refined…” I trailed off while watching Vivian greet her guests. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Hey, I resent your judgment!”
Eric quickly switched his grumpy face to desperation as he caught a waiter serving shrimp, having complained the entire ride over here of being in starvation central. After a trying day at work with a deal that almost fell through, I was happy to drown myself in champagne and pass on the questionable sea-life with its disgusting tail limp on the silver platter. Aside from my mother’s homemade fish recipe back home, I wasn’t a seafood person.
“Okay, so here’s the lowdown on the guests.” Eric pulled me aside as if he would reveal some sort of government-kept secret and discreetly pointed to the man a few feet from us. “Ivan owns three properties in The Hamptons plus this gorgeous place in Martha’s Vineyard. He runs his own wine emporium and exports to Southeast Asia or something like that.”
“The man with the cravat?” I asked, watching him hold a pipe.
“Yes, the man with the cravat.” Eric shuddered, his distaste for cravats needed a whole other discussion. “He’s onto wife number three. Not too bad considering he looks like he belongs in a nursing home.”
“Lovely,” was all I answered.
“Word around Mom’s tennis club is that wife number three is tapping her tennis instructor. I could get you in.”
“Um, get me in where?”
“In,” Eric repeated, eyes wide, making some weird gesture with his hands. “In his bed and bank account.”
Cocking my head, I shook it with annoyance. “I don’t need a man, let alone one who could pass as my great-grandfather.”
“Okay, fine,” Eric sniped. “The guy over there in the burgundy suit…”
“You mean the velvet burgundy suit?” I pointed out, knowing just how much Eric hated velvet.
“Never mind the wardrobe. Thiago is second in line to his grandfather’s estate, which happens to be the