Page 57 of A Billionaire for Christmas
‘I’ve got an important call to make.’ He shot Molly a dark look. ‘To my acquisitions team.’
Molly tutted loudly. ‘You’re being ridiculous. And unbelievably annoying!’
* * *
By the time a slightly taken-aback Molly had served the third of the five courses, the conversation had moved on from golf and weddings to plans for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Since his late return from making calls, Levi had missed two of the courses and not made eye contact with her once. She would find time after the meal to resume their conversation and tell him about Ava. She had never seen him so riled, but she hoped that if he knew the truth, he would understand and take back his ludicrous threats to ruin her business. His words had lit a fire in her belly. Something about him brought out a feisty side to her she was unfamiliar with. As though he’d woken a sleeping dragon. The more he purposefully ignored her, the more determined she became. She wouldn’t be backing down without a fight.
‘Rooby should be here by Christmas Eve. He’ll want to go skiing both mornings,’ Freda informed everyone. ‘Then he’ll want to chill in the spa. Then he’ll want to eat a late lunch.’
‘Well, that’s settled then. We’ll structure the two days around what Reuben wants.’ Lucca was grinning at Freda. ‘How does that sound for everyone?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Valerie. ‘I’m not skiing. I’ve got far too much to do. We haven’t even gone through fabric samples for the wedding. Freda, darling, wouldn’t you rather leave the boys to it and help me plan? It is your wedding, after all.’
‘No way. I won’t have seen Rooby for two weeks. We’ll need to reconnect and spend every second together. Who cares about the bloody wedding? I’m sick to death of it. It can wait.’
This appeared to inflame Valerie. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and her contorted face remained frozen.
‘I’m not even sure why you’re bothering to get married,’ said Lucca. ‘The two of you are never in the same country for more than a week at a time anyway. Is that why you drink so much?’
‘That’s enough, Lucca,’ barked Levi. ‘You’re hardly the one to dish out marital advice. How many fiancées have you been through? Two?’
‘Two and a half actually.’
Verbal fireworks ensued.
Toby gallantly waded in to try to keep the peace as the LeRoux family indiscriminately shrieked and yelled at one another. Glad of something to take her mind off Levi’s threats to ruin her business, Molly had never been so distracted in all her life. She was used to quiet, respectful evenings with her parents spent chatting amiably and playing games. She watched enthralled as this family screamed accusations and hurled insults. She’d never seen a spectacle like it. It would be thrilling if Levi wasn’t sitting opposite emitting an aura of furious energy.
It was while Lucca was reminding his mother what a terrible parent she was, and how she had missed every single one of his ‘spoken-word political poetry satire’ recitals at school when he was younger, that Molly noticed Armand remaining very passive throughout the arguing as though he was having an out-of-body experience. She then noticed a film of sweat forming on his brow and the colour drain from his cheeks. She flicked her eyes around the table. They were all animatedly engaged in yelling at each other. She sought Toby, only to find that he was just as bad, agreeing with each of them in turn, trying to prevent the conflict escalating.
Armand was quite a large gentleman who looked as though he had enjoyed more than a few decades of avoiding lettuce in favour of eating cheese and drinking fine wines. He looked as though he was on the verge of some sort of angina attack. Molly watched him mop his brow with his napkin, wondering if she should intervene. Nobody noticed her rise from her seat to collect the plates, as knives and forks clattered down. Not one person had commented on how delicious and well-assembled this third gravity-defying, molecular gastronomic feat of engineering had been, so absorbed in bickering and arguing they all were. Valerie looked as though she had simply pushed her food around her plate while she bickered with her offspring.
Molly made her way round to Armand and crouched down beside him. ‘Are you okay, sir? Can I get you anything?’
Armand gave her a sharp look, his already small eyes narrowing. ‘I’m fine,’ he hissed out of the side of his mouth. ‘It’s nothing.’
Molly regarded him. He could be very dismissive. Like his son and his wife. ‘Do you need aspirin? Are you on medication?’ she murmured quietly. She poured him a glass of water. ‘Drink this slowly.’
He looked incensed at the intrusion. A redness replaced the pallor in his cheeks. Before he could answer her, she rose quickly. ‘Sorry.’
Molly scuttled into the kitchen, observing the family from afar. What a shitshow. At least Armand was now sipping at his water and seemed less agitated. Valerie decided to regale the family with tales of how many people she knew who had recently died and was disappointed to find that none of them had a clue who she was talking about. ‘…and that was the fourth husband she’d lost in as many years.’
‘How careless. I wonder how many husbands you’ll get through, Freeds. We could start a new family tradition.’ Lucca picked up a stuffed bell pepper and threw it at Freda. Freda retaliated by laughing heartily and throwing a whole breadbasket at him. The rolls of crusty bread spewed everywhere, knocking his glass of red wine all over Toby. He was drenched. Lucca found it hilarious.
Molly’s own troubles aside, it was the best family dinner she’d ever been to.
‘What a waste. That was a very expensive glass of wine,’ Armand moaned as colour came back to his cheeks. He mopped his brow again and threw the napkin down on the table.
‘Not the Château Lafite,’ groaned Valerie, picking up the bottle. ‘Who opened that? I was keeping it for the wedding. I bought it at auction. It cost me over twenty thousand euros.’
‘You mean it costmeover twenty thousand euros,’ said Levi drily. ‘How many times have I said those auctions are a waste of time? They can see you coming a mile off.’
‘Who brought it up from the cellar in the first place?’ Valerie asked sharply. ‘I deliberately ordered these crates to be kept separate from the others.’
‘Don’t look at me,’ Freda snapped.
‘Nor me,’ said Lucca, holding up his hands.
Suddenly the arguing stopped. Everybody was staring over at Molly.
