Page 34 of Toxic Glory

I catch her off guard—clearly, she was expecting some kind of witty comeback, maybe even a threat. But her gaze softens ever so slightly. “I’m glad you like it.” She’s wistful. “I got it for a special occasion. I just didn’t anticipate that the occasion would be having dinner with the man who clearly wants me dead.”

Her words sober me up, popping the bubble that’s kept the bad thoughts at bay for the past couple of hours. She’s right. Downstairs, my father will be there, along with his advisors—more like yes men, to be honest—and their wives. He might even have Jeffrey Welser there, though if he has any sense of danger he wouldn’t show his face around here again.

I’ll be walking into that room with Alize on my arm. She’ll be the most beautiful woman in the room by a long shot, but she’s also the woman my father gave me a week to “get rid of.” It’s going to be a tense evening, as my father will do everything except address the issue at hand. Pleasantries and formalities will be strewn about, even though we hate each other.

Just thinking of it makes my anger flare.

In some ways, I learnt my “self-control,” from him.

Everyone knows my father is ahorribleperson. But you ever only see it if you upset him. When it comes to dinner parties, or galas, or charity balls, or any other place where there’s more than two forks and three different kinds of glasses, he acts like he isn’t a murderous asshole.

When I was younger, I remember looking forward to when we all went out as a family to one of those events—because at least my father wouldn’t knock my mum around, and he’d even smile and act like he was proud of me. My stomach flips just imagining the theatrics he’s about to keep up.

It’s Alize’s soft touch that pulls me back to reality. She’s got a hand on my cheek, a gentle look on her eyes. I cover her hand with my own, and we just stand there, heart-to-heart, looking at each other for a while. She’s the first to speak, a tense, sad smile twisting her ruby-coloured lips.

“Everything will be fine, Alex,” she says. “Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

I bring her hand to my mouth, pressing tender kisses to her skin. “I wish it wasn’t like this.”

“But it is, and we’re going to make the best of it. We’re in this together forever.”

Forever.

I like the way it feels when I turn that word over in my mind. She is looking up at me like she knows she’s said the right thing to make me feel better. I want to wipe the self-satisfied smirk off her face. Well,kissit off. At every turn, no matter what happens between us, it becomes clearer why I could have never resisted Alize’s charms. Why I love her so much now.

She’s my peace, my calm.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

She takes my arm and the two of us make our way downstairs. We take them slowly for the sake of Alize’s heels—which I don’t exactly mind since it gives me just a bit more time to compose my thoughts.

As we get closer to the great room, the warbled sounds of laughter and polite conversation spiced by classical music in the background wafts toward us. Alize’s grip on me tightens. I stroke the back of her hand with my index finger.

We turn the corner into the great room.

The room has been transformed—flowering vines are wrapped around the threshold; bouquets of flowers and artfully draped silk adorn the walls. There’s a champagne tower in the center of the room, and pockets of men and women dressed in black tie are dotted around the room, talking with each other. In the far corner, an orchestra sits, regaling the attendees with their skillful compositions.

The moment we step into the room, it’s like a switch flips.

I’ve been to these gatherings enough to know how to navigate them—both as Head Kingmaker and as Griffin Duke’s son—and the muscle memory kicks in as soon as Hugo Misrami, one of my father’s captains, locks eyes with me. He’s standing in the company of a leggy redhead, and another man with a familiar face I can’t put a name to.

“Alexander!” Hugo exclaims, jerking his hands up so suddenly he almost spills his champagne on his female companion’s dress. I don’t miss the look she shoots him, but it’s melted into a placid smile by the time she and Hugo step away toward us.

I greet Hugo. “It’s been a while,” I say, even though I would never purposefully seek out the company of this man. When I take over the Empire, he’s one of the first people on the chopping block. “How have you been? I take it life has been treating you well.”

Hugo nods. He stands shorter than me—he’s probably around 5’9” if I had to guess. With thinning, greasy black hair that he combs over his bald spot even though it doesn’t hide a fucking thing. His belly pokes out almost offensively, and I know for a fact that he can’t button his suit jacket.

“You know how it is,” Hugo says with a noncommittal shrug. “I can’t complain.” Translation: we’re trying and failing to breathe life back into the Empire. His eyes linger on the bandaged wound on the side of my head, but he doesn’t ask about it. “And who is thisexoticwoman on your arm?”

The fucking comment grates my nerves more than it should. I did expect it.

I turn to look at Alize. She’s got a polite smile on her face, but her eyes give it all away. I stifle a laugh. I’m sure she’s picturing running a knife through Hugo’s sweaty neck.

I would pay to watch that.

“This is Alize,” I say. “My fiancée.”

I don’t miss the flash of surprise that colours Hugo’s features, even though he recovers quickly. If it’s because Alize is “exotic,” or he knows of my father’s plan to marry me off to Ottilie, I can’t be sure.

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