Page 45 of Start With A Slap

When they followed the man through the grand foyer into a tranquil garden area, Sever compulsively took Ivy’s hand, and she came to a startling realization: he wasnervous.

Who in the world could make Sever Mark nervous?

A tiny old woman in a wheelchair sat at the foot of a fountain, scrutinizing them with sharp, wary eyes. “Stéphane?”

Nearly crushing Ivy’s hand by this point, he said, “Hello, Mother.”

Ivy was almost glad he was holding on to her, because otherwise she might have fallen over. Or run.

Jason had never mentioned his paternal grandparents — she’d always assumed there weren’t any. Yet, here it was: solid proof that Sever Mark was born from woman,notforged in the bowels of Hell.

“Who’s the girl?” she asked in French.

“This is Ivy.”

Drawing herself out of her stunned silence, Ivy managed a smile. “H-hello, it’s very nice to?—”

“I don’t like her.”

Okay then. Definitely born fromthiswoman.

“You don’t know her, Mum. You’d quite like her if we had time to stay.”

Eyes widening, Ivy thought,Sever just took me home to Mother!

“Too bad we’re so busy,” she said to Sever, wresting free of his vise-like grip....and I’m so married to yourson.

“You and your American blondes,” her grandmother-in-law said in French. “When will you ever learn? They’re vapid, greedy whores. Whatever you do, don’t marry her.”

No worries, grandmère! I married his illegitimate American son instead. Together, we plan to make several vapid, greedy, whorish heirs to the Mark family throne. See ya next Christmas!

She couldn’t exactly say that, so instead she replied in French, “I’m not a natural blonde. And he should be so lucky.”

Livid, she turned on her heel and walked out.

Before she slammed the door, she heard the old woman cackling.

When Sever finally caught up to Ivy outside, he said, “Not a natural blonde? I feel duped.”

“Go find a Swede.”

He laughed. “You should have stuck ‘round to hear her reaction.”

“Let me guess,” she walked faster, as if that could somehow lose him. “She wants to have an affair with me now.”

“Good one. But no. She had a change of heart. Really likes you.”

“I really don’t like her.”

“‘S’all right, no one does.” He sniffed. “She’s an evil bitch.”

“Hmm,” she said, giving him a scornful look.

“Don’t ‘hmm’ at me. I’m not her. People do like me.”

“Really? Name one person who likes you, and not for your money or your fame or whatever you can do for them.”

“You.” He stopped in the street. “Youlike me.”

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