Page 113 of Wreck Me

But most of all, he accepts me. Even the ugliest parts of me.

I just hope I can convince his father to accept me.

James might be okay with the tension between him and his father, but I’m not. Not if it’s because of me. Just like he didn't want me to miss out on things that are important inmy life, like seeing my friend, I don’t want him to miss out on things that are important in his life, like his family.

I just need to convince Alexander Beckett I’m not some money grabbing daughter of his enemy.

How though?

Time is probably the only answer.

As we approach the tables, I spot the tiny place cards in front of each space. Each table sits ten. James and I are seated with his parents, his five brothers, and his sister, Zara, who looks adorable in a pink, tiered flapper dress and matching headpiece.

We slip into our seats. I glance at the place card beside me. Alexander Beckett. My stomach somersaults.

James rests his hand on my thigh beneath the table and offers a reassuring squeeze. The man is so in tune with me, it’s frightening.

Alexander hesitates, his weathered hand hovering on the back of his chair like he’d rather do anything but pull it out and sit down.

I suck in a breath and turn towards him. ‘Please, sit Mr Beckett. I’d like to get to know you better.’

His silver eyebrows dart upwards, but surprisingly, he lowers his bulky frame into the chair.

Waiters circle each table, offering red and white wine. Between the blanket of chatter in the room and the glass of bubbly, I summon the bravery to grab the bull by the horns.

‘I know you don’t approve of me, but I love your son. I’ll do my best to make him happy. To be a good wife.’

‘I don’t doubt you will.’ Alexander raises his wine glass to his lips and takes a sip. ‘It’s not you, personally. I mean, you’re not the wife I envisioned for him,’ he pauses and the unspoken wordspole dancerfloat invisibly through the air, ‘and your family are–’

I stop him before he can go any further. ‘My family aredead. My mother passed tragically at the hands of a man I have reason to despise more than you ever will.’

‘That may be so but didn't he raise you?’ Alexander’s voice is barely audible.

‘I raised myself at St Jude’s boarding school.’

James stiffens beside me as he listens to every word. ‘Father,’ his voice is a warning, ‘this isn't the time or the place.’

‘I think it’s exactly the time and the place.’ Alexander stares at his son defiantly. ‘Why not get it all out in the open. You don’t usually mind flashing your private bits. That’s what got you in this predicament in the first place.’

‘I wouldn't call my engagement a predicament. I’d call it a privilege.’ James's voice drops to a dangerously low hiss.

Vivienne is cooing over Zara obliviously beside us, and Caelon and Rian are deep in conversation about whether the lamb chops might be more succulent than the steak.

The only other person who seems to be paying any attention to the conversation is James’s brother, Killian, who seems to miss nothing, but says little. Which is why he surprises me when he leans across the table and opens his mouth.

‘Dad,’ he says in a languid drawl. Alexander and James both glance up. ‘Do you remember the underage witness from O’Connor’s trial?’

Alexander pauses, running his thumb over his jawline, a mannerism I’ve watched James do a hundred times. He purses his lips, then his head twists and is eyes collide with mine. Realisation dawns in his pupils.

‘You.’

‘She lost her mother to that bastard. But she also lost her own life in the process. She’s been alone for years. She surrendered her identity to stay alive. Had to sever contact with her mother’s remaining family for her own safety andtheirs,’ James says. ‘The least you can do is accept her into ours, even if you’re not ecstatic about it. She’s going to be my wife.’

‘Here, here.’ Killian raises his glass.

Alexander has the grace to look at the floor.

‘I’ll resign as CEO if it’s going to be a problem for you, Dad.’ James snakes his arm around my waist.

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