Page 38 of Mr. Winter
“Damn family blood,” Alperen complains. “There’s not enough alcohol in the world to change it. Trust me, I’ve tried,” he confesses as he steals my drink. “You look damn hot in that dress, naughty girl. I see why Espen always has his dick out.”
I elbow him in the side.
“Oh! I like it rough, baby.”
Okay, there must be something in their bloodline.
I turn to give him my full attention. “You look different.”
Gone is the dirty-blond Viking look. Alperen now has dark, wavy hair that falls just past the nape of his neck, a beard, and no tattoos. He’s still tall and fit. His cranberry-colored, velvet blazer is buttoned with no shirt underneath, so women can focus on the gold chain and rings.
“I came to you as an illusion of what you thought was attractive based on Jack. This is me, sweetheart. You want a bite?”
“I’m going to ignore that last part. So Turkish?” He nods. “Nice, and the illusions, are they for everybody?”
He nods once more. “I emote what people want to see.” He points at a blonde who’s giving me ‘fuck me’ eyes. “She sees a huge, black man who plays football.” He points at another woman. “To her, I’m a sultry, Latin guy. To him, I favor Ryan Gosling…”
“No fucking way.”
“Hold on, dirty girl. I’ll prove it.”
He takes me over and chats up the different people he pointed out and has me take pictures of them. Each person’s phone has different variations of him but in the same outfit.
“That’s trippy as hell,” I admit when we’re out of earshot.
“Okay. You’re cramping my style. I was being nice and chatting up Kimmie, but her husband is territorial as hell. I’m going to find some trouble to get into.”
I salute him as he saunters off to a girl who sees God knows who when Mack grabs me.
“Dance with me. If that woman shows me one more picture of her pets in cute outfits, I’m going to curse her out.”
“Well, look at it this way, the dates almost over. You can technically sneak out after midnight.”
“Speaking of which, if she thinks for a second that she’s getting a New Year kiss…” He shakes his head at the thought. “I’m going to fake a case of the shits at 11:58. Fuck that.”
I’m dying laughing, so I can’t dance properly, but he drags me along anyway. “I’m about to be like Jack, fuck, I mean Espen and disappear, smart man.”
He really doesn’t like being in the center of all this, and I understand. I’m just happy he opened the mansion up for some of the parties Old Man Winters liked to throw. As if on cue, Jack appears at the top of the steps in the all-white ensemble I picked out for him. His hair is combed out of his face, and he’s looking at me like I’m the only one here.
“Tuck your hormones back in before you drool on my suit, you horny asshole.”
I get on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “If you go upstairs and make a left then an immediate right, you can hang out in the media room until the party’s over.”
“That’s also across the hall from your new room,” Jack adds. “Arden said if she moved in, you’d need one of those.”
“Sweet. You’re alright with me, J—Espen. I just might retire for the night…”
“Not just yet. The rule of the date is to allow a minimum of four hours of your time. You arrived at seven; you have to go listen to cat stories for twelve more minutes.”
“I’m betting on myself next time like Espen did. This is some bullshit.”
Jack pulls me in the opposite direction. “Come with me, my love.”
“Jack,” I whisper, but he shakes his head.
“I’m my own date. I’ve already allotted four hours to myself. I have no other obligations.”
“You’re also Mr. Winter.”
