Page 16 of Toxic Glory

“Oh dear, are you alright?” Ingrid exclaims, and she swipes a tear from my eyes before I do. Alex is looking at me with wide eyes, and suddenlyeveryoneis looking at me. Oh fuck.

I nod quickly, wiping away my tears with the back of my hand.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I say. “Just a little tired from the journey,” I offer.

“Come on, let’s get some food in ya,” Ingrid says, wrenching me away from Alex and pulling me toward the huge doors of the home. They were closed earlier, but now they’re open.

I look up at Alex, who lets Ingrid take me, though he’s following close behind. I’m about to ask him about meeting his father, but the man is no longer standing with the group. He’s disappeared into the house, and it leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

When did he leave?

Is this his way of saying he doesn’t want to meet me?

It’s all I can think of while Ingrid escorts me to the kitchen.

SIX

ALEXANDER

My father reacted exactlythe way I expected him to.

He has too much pride to stand and wait for me to introduce Alize to him, especially since I know he doesn’t approve of our relationship. Frankly, if I could go without ever having him say a word to her, I would be fine. He probably expected me to bring her to him, to beg for his approval, to try to change his mind.

That’s never going to happen.

Even though I was able to gain the upper hand on the phone with him during our last conversation, I’m sure it hasn’t even occurred to my father just how much I’ve changed. It’s exactly why he thinks he can get away with hosting Alize and I in the very house Mum died in.

Wesley and I are close behind Alize and Ingrid as they cross the house toward the kitchen.

“You ok, man?” Wesley asks me, his voice low enough that it doesn’t carry to the girls in front of us. He’s looking at me withconcernon his face, and I instantly know it’s not about the little stunt he pulled earlier.

He knows why I will never be okay here.

I shake my head. “Why the fuck is everyonehere?”

Wesley looks around before he responds to me. We’re walking through the drawing room now. Across the hall, the door to my father’s study is closed with soldiers posted outside. He’s probably in there, puffing on a cigarette and planning how else he can fuck up my life. Just the thought of it makes me want to strangle him.

“Orders,” Wesley shrugs.

The sense of dread I felt when Ben mentioned we would be hosted here keeps growing with each step I take. By the time we make it to the kitchen, it feels like I’m twelve again, stalking through the house in the middle of the night after my mum’s murder.

Only, the house has changed.

All the things that made it my mum’s home, the things that were here the last time I lived in this house, are gone. The pictures of our family, the pictures of her, the artwork she had imported from faraway places—all of it is gone now. Even the baby-pink vintage appliances in the kitchen have been swapped out for newer, sleeker stainless-steel ones.

The kitchen takes up nearly half the entire floor, with huge louvred windows that look out onto the expansive yard. It’s all fresh cut grass as far as the eye can see. Ingrid sits Alize at the breakfast nook and sashays over to speak with one of the chefs. I take the seat beside her, while Wesley lingers by the corridor.

“I didn’t get to meet your father,” Alize says, an apologetic look on her face. “Do you think he left because I randomly started crying? Oh gosh, that’s so embarrassing. I still have no idea why—”

I press my thumb to her lips, stopping her mid-sentence. “You don’t have to apologise for anything, sweetheart. I wanted him to leave. That's why I didn’tstartwith him.”

Her lips form an ‘O’. “Do you think he’s upset?”

“He always is.” I stroke her hair. “Ingrid seems to really like you,” I say, changing the topic. I watch as Alize’s hazel eyes float over to the woman in question, who’s peering into the sub-zero freezer.

“She’s so easy to get along with,” Alize says.

Ingrid returns a few minutes later, bearing a tray with two plates of food and two bottles of water.

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