“What’s wrong with you, Damien? You always object to anything I try to do to make myself better.”
“I only object because you think money grows on trees. You are constantly buying stuff. Expensive stuff too. You’re not Taylor Swift or some other super star. You’re just Alana. Trying to get your career off the ground. Act like it.”
“If I did that, no one would notice.”
“Oh, is that what Tony says? Buy the most expensive dress, act the part, and it’ll instantly come true? Well, newsflash, Alana, it doesn’t work that way. Even the super divas you envy had to work hard to get to where they are. After this party, you and I are going to sit down and talk.” I was fuming, and I heard my brother-in-law’s words coming back to haunt me.
She mumbled something I partially understood and looked out the window.
“What’d you just say?”
“Nothing. If you aren’t going to say anything nice, can we please not talk? You’re giving me a headache.”
“Fine with me.”
We arrived back at the condo. I caught her turning her nose up at everything as she walked through the rooms. Fair enough. I hadn’t really told her how I’d ended up with Amadeus’s old place. How the girls and I had decorated it.
“I thought when you said condo, it would be in that place where they filmed that movie. This needs work. A lot of work.”
“Excuse me? Did I just hear you right? For the price of a condo in that place I could buy a very nice house on Bainbridge Island. You need to keep your mouth shut until you know the facts. This place might not be as shiny, but trust me, a unit with a view like this one is far from cheap, sweetie.”
“Can we at least look for a place of our own?”
“We’ll talk after the party. If we do look, you can bet it won’t be in that freaking building.”
She was texting someone, not paying a bit of attention to what I was saying. Just like one of the girls.
“Alana, who are you texting?”
“Sherry.”
“It’s three in the morning in London.”
“She’s still up.”
Okay, Dame, chill out. This is supposed to be a happy time. You’re planning a new life with this woman. Yet, somehow, I wasn’t feeling it. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Please.”
“Come, pick one out. I can never keep up with which you like.”
Grabbing her hand, I led her to the kitchen. Pointing to the rack on the counter, I opened a drawer and pulled out the corkscrew. Has she done something to her lips? I don’t recall them being that full.
“There are a couple of bottles of white in the refrigerator if you’d rather have that.”
She opened it and pulled out a bottle of Zinfandel. “Here, this will do.”
“The girls are staying over at friends tonight. They thought we’d like it if they played scarce for at least a night.”
“That’s sweet,” she replied, accepting the glass from me.
It suddenly dawned on me she hadn’t even kissed me, nor had I kissed her. I’d been too busy barking at her. I leaned down, and she let me, but when I tried to initiate something more sensual, she shut me down.
“Don’t Dame. My lips are still sore.”
“They look nice,” I lied. They make you look like a kisser fish, but hey, that’s just my opinion. “Was that one of your appointments?” Of course it was, and I wondered what this was going to cost.
“Yes.” She shyly smiled. “I’m glad you like them. It doesn’t look too obvious, the change?”
“No, not at all.” Liar, liar pants on fire. Yep, kisser fish. This is one of those maintenance things. “Come, let’s go sit down.”
Taking her by the hand, I led her back to the loveseat. She took a drink of wine, setting the glass down on the table next to her. Then, she yawned. Well, it is eight hours’ time difference in London. Three in New York.
“What are we doing tomorrow?”
“I thought I’d show you around town. Show you where I grew up, silly stuff like that.”
“That’s nice. What time is the party?”
“Any time after two on Saturday. We have to take a ferry to get to Amadeus’s place. We’ll leave late morning...unless I can talk you into sailing.”
“No, if the wind dies we’d never make it in time. I want to look good, not windblown, when I meet your family.”
“Good point.”
“Who all’s going to be there, Dame?”
“My two brothers and their families, my girls, my mother, and her husband, Peter MacNichol.”
“Okay.”
“Something wrong, Alana?”
“No. I was curious, that’s all.”
I decided to push her a little. See if she’d open up, or if all this was my overactive imagination. “Have you decided on a place you’d like to get married? Still leaning toward Paris?”
“Yes, Paris.”
“Well, if that’s where you want, we need to set a date. I was thinking nine to twelve months ought to be plenty of time for everyone to plan for it. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. You’re right. We’ll need to decide on a venue. Whatever we choose, I’m sure we’ll have to put a deposit down to hold it.”
“That’s fine. Why don’t you and your mom decide? Whatever you choose, I know will be beautiful.”
“Are you sure? You don’t mind?”
“No. All I’ll have to do is show up. Has your dad given you a budget yet?”
“No, nothing firm. I suppose I need to talk with him, tell him I need to get started on this now.”
“Pick a date, and let me know what budget your dad gives you.”
“Oh?” She picked up her glass of wine again, taking another sip. She was nervous about something. That’s one thing I do know about Alana. When she gets nervous or upset, she drinks without giving a thought as to how much.
“Yeah, a date. It would be nice if we could have one for my family when we see them.”
“Yes, of course.” She scrolled her phone, supposedly looking at possible dates. Then, she smiled. Perhaps that wasn’t what she was looking at. “June twelfth? It’s a Saturday.”
“Great. You need to find out what the requirements are for getting married there. I’m sure, since I’m not a citizen, there’ll be some hoop I’ll have to jump through.”
“Didn’t your brother Amadeus get married in Paris?”
“Yeah, he and Zara did.”
“Ask them. I’m sure nothing’s changed since then.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.”
“Thanks, sweetie. I’m going to be up to my neck in decisions with so many things to do between now and then.”
“Consider it off your list.”
I was about to say something when my phone rang. I peered down at the caller ID. My mother. Great. Perfect timing as always. I mouthed “my mother” to Alana, catching an eye roll.
“Hi, Mother.”
“You and Alana made it in okay? I just wanted to check.”
“Yes. We’re discussing wedding details.”
“Have you picked a date and place yet?”
“June twelfth next year, and it’ll be in Paris. Alana’s going to look at some places soon and make a decision.”
“Wonderful. If you’re happy, Damien, I’m happy. Are the girl’s there?”
“No, they decided to give us some space.”
“I spoke with Mary.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes. Daniel wasn’t pleased?”
“I’m not sure.”
“I understand. You can’t talk.”
“You’re right about that.”
“Okay, I’m going to let you go. How about the four of us doing dinner tomorrow evening? Think about it. You can let me know tomorrow.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Mother. Tell Peter hello for me.”
“I shall.”
She hung up. Yep, even she has her suspicions. This ought to be one h
ell of a party.
Turning to Alana, I found her laying back, eyes closed. Really? “Alana, babe? Do you want to go to bed?”
“I’m sorry, Dame. I guess everything’s caught up with me. Yes, please. Show me the guest room so I can get settled in.” She smiled, one of those fake ones. The ones she knew I hated.
“Guest room? I thought you’d sleep with me.”
“With Brittney and Courtney being present, and us not married?”
Okay, Mary Manners, where did you come from? Normally, this chick’s all over me after being apart even a day. Tonight she’s giving me the cold shoulder? “They aren’t here, and they wouldn’t care anyway. We shared a suite when I took you to meet them.”
“That was different, Dame. They had their own room.”
“But they’re staying over with friends tonight. What’s the deal?”
“Nothing. I simply want to get some sleep and not be bothered.”
“Bothered? So, I bother you?”
“Damien you know what I mean,” she snapped, cutting her eyes at me. “Besides, I’m having my period.”
“Since when did that ever stop us? You know what? Fine, let me show you to the guest room. You’ll have to do with Britt’s room, as my less than satisfactory home only has three bedrooms.”
“You really don’t have to be so dramatic.”
“Fine. You want your space? Follow me, I’ll show you to your space.”
I sprung up from the loveseat and grabbed the handle of her suitcase. I heard her make a sighing noise behind me as I led her down the hall. I turned on the overhead light and walked out.
“Good night,” I mumbled.
“Good night, Damien. Thank you.”
“Get some sleep, Alana.”
“I love you.”
I was already three steps down the hall, choosing to pretend I hadn’t heard her.
Well, that certainly went well.
Chapter Three
When Alana finally did get up the following morning, it was almost noon. Half the day gone. I said nothing and was all smiles when she emerged from the bedroom. Even though she looked as though she had just stepped out of the pages of Vogue, I had to admit she looked hot. Overdressed, but hot. She was in jeans, skintight jeans, everything meticulously thought out. Now if she’d just get rid of the mafia hair and those lips.
“Morning,” I said, looking over the lid of my laptop.
“Good morning.”
“I just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
“Thank you. Would you be a sweetie and get me a cup? My nails still aren’t dry.”
“Of course.” I stood up and walked over to her. Knowing I was going to want to kiss her, she turned her head ever so slightly, so I only got her cheek. “Lips still a little sore?”
She nodded. Alana loved to be coddled like the spoiled young woman she was.
“Poor baby. Why don’t you go sit down? I’ll be right back with your coffee.”
I went into the kitchen. There was no half-and-half, like she preferred. The girls must have forgotten it while shopping. Alana would be sure to point out she preferred her coffee with it.
She was sitting in front of my laptop when I came back. As a way to pass the time, I’d started making spreadsheets for the wedding. I thought they’d be useful for Alana.
“What’s all this?” she asked as I placed the mug in her hand.
“Wedding spreadsheets. Thought they might be helpful for us.” I showed her how I’d set them up so she could fill in dates and other important information.
“That’s really sweet, Dame. Really, it is, but I’m going to hire a wedding planner for all that.”
A wedding planner? Really? “Your Dad has that in his budget?”
“I don’t know. I just assumed you would pay for one if it wasn’t. I really need one, Dame. Please? Between my career and planning a wedding, it’s going to get so stressful.”
“We’ll talk about it after tomorrow. My thought on it is, I’ll worry about your career, you plan the wedding. If something comes along you need to be involved in, I’ll let you know.”
She was trying to put on her best pouty face. Not working, Alana. Not right now. I needed to steer this conversation on to something else.
“Drink your coffee so we can get going. I thought we’d go have lunch down at Pike Place Fish Market.” I got a wrinkly nose on that. Not Park Avenue enough for her. Oh well, you’re in my world now, baby.
“I made a list of some places I’d like to see.”
“Good deal.” My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out to see who was calling. I’d already updated the girls on the sleeping arrangements...unless they changed. Mother. “Have you given any thought to us having dinner with my mother and Peter?”
Wrinkly nose again. “Aren’t we going to see them tomorrow?”
“Yes. I just think she’d like some one-on-one time with us.”
She looked down at the list she was carrying. “I suppose we could. You said they were staying in Bellevue?”
“Yeah, at Amadeus’s other place. Why?”
“There’s supposed to be a really hot club over there. We could go check it out afterwards.”
Bingo! The alternative reason—to be seen. “We have to get going at a decent hour in the morning. We won’t have time to go to a club. Maybe next week.”
“Next week? How long are we staying here? I thought we were just coming for this party?”
“Alana, I told you. A week. I want us to look for our own place.”
“Well, then I guess we won’t be having dinner with your mother.”
“Fine.”
“And I didn’t agree to move here, Damien.”
“We’ve been over this, Alana. The subject is closed.” I walked to the windows so I could calm down. Looking out at the sound always calmed me, although I wasn’t sure anything could calm me from this mad woman and her insane ideas. “Besides, you haven’t even seen the city yet.”
I watched her reflection as she took a sip off her coffee. Yep, she knows it’s not half-and-half. I texted my mother back, telling her thanks, but since we were going to be out all day, I thought it best we stay in for the evening.
“Come on,” I said, turning back around. “Grab your stuff and let’s go.”
A short time later, we were in the SUV and headed out. I swung by Angus’s house to show her where I’d grown up. She didn’t appear overly impressed. Instead, she wanted to see the building where the fictional Christian Grey lived. Oh well, make her happy.
That snapped her out of her mood, and next thing I knew, she was going on and on about it. Made me drive around the block twice for a better look.
“Can we at least look at a unit in there, sweetie? Please.”
“Alana, I told you. That’s about the most expensive place in town. I’m no Christian Grey. Besides, like I told you, I’d rather use that sort of money on a house with a yard.”
Eye roll and nose wrinkle. Guess that idea is really not winning any points.
I drove down in front of the market, finding a prized parking place within easy walking distance. “Come on, you’ll like this. I thought we’d get some crab for dinner while we’re here.”
“Won’t they spoil before we get back to your condo?”
“I’ll have them put on dry ice. Or I can swing by and put them in the refrigerator.” Either way, we were having this day to sightsee and talk.
When we reached the restaurant, I thought for sure she was going to balk. A hole in the wall, albeit a very famous one. It was where Tom Hanks had eaten while filming Sleepless in Seattle. So when I showed her the life-sized Tom Hanks she could have her photo with, she became chattier.
Lunch was relaxed for the most part. She went on and on again about a new place. Trying to convince me of something I wasn’t falling for.
She was quiet walking through the market. I knew she’d been to ones in Europe, but she acted like it was beneath her. We stopped at a flower vendor,
and I told her to pick out some flowers. That helped. The fishmonger was even better. I’d been buying my seafood from this guy for years, so I knew most of the guys who worked there. Of course, they made a fuss over Alana, which was just what she wanted.
Last stop was my sailboat. I pulled up in front of the marina where I kept her.
Alana did that thing with her nose again. “Why are we stopping here?”
“I want to show you my boat.”
“I don’t need to see it, sweetie. I don’t care for sailboats.”
“Have you ever been on one?”
“Yes, but it was huge. Not one of these small ones.”
Of course, it was. One of your billionaire friends owned it, I’m sure. Right before Alana and I hooked up, she’d been seeing some Middle Eastern prince. Or so the story goes. He evidently took her to exotic places, spent lavishly on her. Wasn’t ever sure what the real story was on why she broke up with him. One thing was true—I was learning fast that I wasn’t meeting her high standards.
“Well, none of us have one that big. If you’re going to be part of this family, you’re going to have to deal with the fact we love to sail. Either learn or not. Your choice.”
“No one has a power boat?”
“Yeah, Amadeus has one for skiing and such, but that’s it.”
“Well, we need to get one then. One with a cabin.”
“I only do sailboats, Alana. I want the freedom of racing across the water under no power but mother nature.”
“Can we go now?”
She was determined to have a miserable time. Yep, after this party thing, we needed to have a serious talk. She’s turned into this person I don’t know. If she pushes me too hard, we’ll be having our chat before then.
“Sure. Let’s take the crab back to the condo.”
“We’re not really going to eat those like that, are we?”
“Yes.” I chuckled. “I could have bought them alive, and we cook them. That’s what you do when you crab off a boat, you know.”
“Disgusting. I’m not going to sit a table and crack crab.”
“You know you could have told me that when I bought them, sweetheart. That’s what we’re having for dinner. Take it or leave it.”
Tudor Redemption (Tudor Dynasty Book 4) Page 2
