Forever (Descendants of Ra: Book 4.5)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Reign turned to EJ, prepared for an argument, but EJ stared wistfully at a white lace gown with a long red sash.

  “Ah, hell! He’s drunk on the Kool-Aid too.” Thane threw up his hands and marched towards the other models.

  Reign had no idea what Thane referred too, but EJ seemed quite sober in appearance and manner. Not intoxicated at all.

  The model departed and another took her place on the platform. Her dress had layers of fabric draped with bows and pearls. Bell-shaped, it hid the figure of the wearer from the waist down.

  “That’s nice,” Thane shouted over his shoulder, earning a smile from the model. Paul signaled with a circle of his finger and the models twirled slowly.

  “Nice, like Gone With The Wind.” EJ plucked a treat from a nearby tray.

  Reign grunted. “I agree, it may go with the wind, and all of the dresses fashioned with the same voluminous shape.” Ten models exited the room.

  “Hey, some of those dresses would’ve been nice on Alexis,” EJ said through a mouth full of food.

  “As nice as they would be adorning Ridley?” Reign said, and then laughed at EJ’s shudder.

  Reign strolled amongst the models. He studied the details of their dresses. Some of the models were bold with their attempts to catch his eye. Did they not realize his purpose? A man did not buy a wedding dress for himself...well, he would not buy a dress for himself.

  So many styles. Too many options. His head ached. How did women do it? For a decade, he made do with one pair of leathers, two shirts, and one set of sturdy soles. Frustrated, he spun away, ready to leave the shop. Then a dress caught his eye.

  Before he could say a word, Paul snapped his fingers and the model glided from the back of the group to the platform.

  “This is a delicate tulle, one shoulder, Grecian style gown with a high jeweled waist and a draped back.” Paul made a motion with his finger and the model executed a slow twirl.

  Everything about the dress reminded him of home. How easy it was to envision Alexis gracing the halls of the Parthenon. Paul continued with his description, while Reign lost himself in a fantasy of Alexis coming toward him, her hair caressing her creamy shoulders. Her coppery eyes entrancing. “That is the one Alexis will wear.”

  Paul gave Reign a clipped bow. “Excellent choice.”

  “Hold on.” EJ finally stopped eating and moved away from the refreshments. “Sure you don’t want to see some more dresses?”

  “I need to see nothing else. This is the dress she will wear.”

  “It is really pretty.” Thane sauntered over sipping a glass of wine. “Gotta say, you have good taste.” Then he shrugged at EJ and strolled over to a different model. Whatever he said caused the model to blush and nod. She hurried to the back to the dressing room. Thane circled the room, a shark amongst all the tender females.

  “Well, if you’re sure this is the one you want. We’ll take it. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.” EJ wrapped an arm around Paul’s thin shoulders. The man nearly buckled at the weight. Off they went to the back of the room.

  Reign focused on the dress and the vision he had of Alexis. Everything he wanted was within his grasp. And nothing would stop him from having it.

  ~~~~~

  Heart speed racing around her ribcage, Alexis waited for her father to gasp in horror, recoil in shame, denounce her, and call for the police.

  Martin Lever gave her a slight nod and swept past her table to the reserved booth a few feet away.

  He didn’t recognize me. Well, of course, he didn’t! I’m Lexi Martin. A blonde, blue-eyed woman two inches shorter than his redheaded, brown-eyed daughter, you idiot!

  An ache spread from the center of her chest to every limb. Her brain stuttered over the obvious questions in rapid fashion—Why was he here? How could he be here? –and stopped when Thomas strolled into the restaurant. A day old scruffy beard shadowed the bruises on his jaw and chin. She sat straighter in the chair, now prepared for the unexpected. He spared a quick glance before skating by and plopping his ass in the booth opposite their father. A peripheral view was all she had of the two.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he practically shouted.

  Her father grunted. “Just glad you called.”

  “Did you order anything to drink?”

  “Given the circumstances, I thought it wise to forgo liquor and stick to water,” her father said low, but his words still carried in the half-empty restaurant.

  “Yeah. About that.” Thomas sounded contrite.

  “Are we discussing what happened yesterday in Little Italy?”

  There was a pause and Alexis could only imagine the expression on their faces, so similar in structure, even though three and a half decades separated them. Forced to pretend she wasn’t tuned into every word falling out of their mouths, she stared straight ahead.

  Thomas snorted. “So you know about that?”

  Just because her father retreated from politics, didn’t mean his reach had retreated. He continued to be a powerful man. “Even if I didn’t, your bruised face speaks volumes.”

  “Dad—”

  “You followed them there, Thomas. Helen threatened to get a restraining order for stalking. Is that what you want? A record as a stalker? I talked her out of it and promised her some cash for her...forgiveness. But do this shit again and her goodwill vanishes.”

  “Goodwill? You’re playing to her good will, and I never asked for your help or your money,” Thomas snapped.

  “As if you had to ask. No child of mine will spend a day in a jail cell.”

  “Does that include Alexis?”

  Her breath caught, waiting for her father’s reply.

  From the corner of her eye, she barely caught the single shake of his head. “I don’t want to talk about Alexis.”

  A chunk of her heart crumbled.

  “Not good enough. Not today.” Thomas pressed.

  Her father flagged down the waitress and ordered a bourbon. She’d acquired the taste for Kentucky whiskey from her daddy. Thomas eased back in his seat and took a long sip of his water. Their gazes locked. Part of her wanted to reach over and smack him; the rest of her demanded he not back down. She had to know how her father felt about her and this was probably the only way she’d ever discover the unfiltered truth.

  His drink came and Dad downed it in one swallow and signaled for another. Thomas rapped his knuckles on the table. “Answer the question, Dad.”

  “I would do the same for her as I did for you. I only wish she’d come to me and not run away with that fucking bastard,” he growled.

  “So now you’re ready to admit she wasn’t kidnapped or brainwashed like you told the media?”

  “I had to say something to defend my daughter.” His voice cracked at the last word. “I miss my little girl. I pray she’s safe and far away.”

  Tears burned her eyes, and a wave of joy choked her. Her dad still loved her.

  He slammed his fist onto the table. “Those damned Nicolises are behind all of this. I’ve called in every marker owed to me, and no one will lift a finger to help. Everyone’s afraid of Roman Nicolis. Afraid to cross him. That man is powerful; his business connections reach far and wide. He has flown completely under the radar for years, and I never knew it. How is that possible?”

  Thomas’s gaze shifted to Alexis.

  “I’m talking to you about your sister and you’re ogling a woman. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re still married,” her father whispered furiously.

  A slow exhale and Thomas’ attention and head swung back to their father. “Go lecture Helen. I haven’t forgotten anything.”

  “So, now that you’re sober, what do you plan on doing with your marriage?”

  Thomas drained his glass of water. “Shouldn’t you worry about the state of your own marriage and not mine? Besides, I know what I’m going to do. D-I-V-O-R-C-E.” He spelled out. “By the way, how’s your divorce going?”

  “Not. Well. If you must know. I don’t
want to speak ill of your mother, but that woman is meaner than a nest of rattlers and twice as deadly.” He sounded exhausted. Gloria had a Ph.D. in grinding a person down until they were pliable to her will.

  Thomas chuckled. “And that’s why you married her. One of her better traits, I remember you saying.”

  “Her best trait until she tried to geld me!” Her father shouted, losing all sense of propriety.

  “Are we discussing horses? Thoroughbreds, I hope. The Derby is this month.”

  Like a dip in an arctic sea, the cultured voice washed over Alexis and all of her muscles braced for battle. The waitress had returned with her father’s drink...and a guest.

  So focused on her father and brother, Alexis completely missed Gloria Lever’s entrance. A vision of grace and elegance, her mother was dressed in her signature color, white. Red shoes and bag—a statement color her mother had said when instructing her only daughter on the do’s and don’ts of fashion.

  The pearls around Gloria’s throat and the four-carat diamond earrings dangling from her ears—gifts from her husband during the good years—weren’t enough of a statement, Alexis guessed.

  “I hope that drink isn’t for Thomas, Martin. We are here to set him straight, not encourage him to continue on this disastrous path. And why, for the love of God, are we meeting here?” Gloria Lever gave a cursory inspection of the room. Her gaze skimmed over Alexis and jerked back.

  “Gloria, sit down and stop making a spectacle. We met here because Thomas requested this restaurant.” Martin ordered.

  Alexis braced, certain that her disguise hadn’t changed, yet not knowing what to expect from her mother’s perusal.

  “A public forum is not the place to have an intervention, but so be it.” With an elegant pivot in her Chanel heels, she shrugged out of her coat and directed Alexis’s father to scoot over. Alexis couldn’t see her father’s expression, but she did hear his glass slam on the table and his body slide across the seat of the booth.

  Oh, how she wanted to spin around and view this meeting with a bag of popcorn and a glass of wine. Settling for glimpses of the combatants in her peripheral vision would have to do, but she did signal her waitress for another refill. Bourbon, not wine. Even a microscopic viewing such as this required hard liquor.

  “Now, Thomas,”—that’s how her mother began all her interrogation sessions—“ an immediate divorce is the way to proceed, followed by rehab in Arizona. I’ve already made a reservation for you at the spa and informed my divorce attorney of your situation.” She slid a business card across the table to Thomas.

  “I’ve already called my attorney. He only handles male clients, and he’s one of the best.” Her father plopped a business card next to her mother’s card.

  And they’re off!

  For the next ten minutes, she listened to her family bicker over Thomas’ sobriety, marriage, career, and then switched to her parents arguing over their sobriety, marriage, and lack of career. Pathetic. Depressing. Those two words banged against the inside of her skull until she couldn’t stand to listen anymore.

  That’s what marriage was to her, two words. How could everything you once loved about a person boil down to pathetic and depressing? She couldn’t do it. Not to herself and not to Reign.

  By the end of the intervention, her parents were arguing over who owned rights to the beach in front of their Key West property. For God’s sake, people had their phones out recording them. She wanted to scream, “Shut up.” Instead, she signaled for another drink. This was definitely an Uber night.

  Finally, her mother stood and snatched her coat off the seat. “My attorney will be informed about this little ambush. I thought we came here to help Thomas, not discuss our marital strife,” she hissed. “Next time, I will speak to you alone, Thomas. Without any additional assistance from your father. I believe you are educated enough to not need him to filter my questions and concerns.”

  She slung her red Birkin on her shoulder and with another elegant pivot, marched past Alexis’s table—and halted. Her head turned slowly, as if separate from her body. Frostbite would’ve been warmer than the gaze her mother settled on Alexis.

  “My dear young lady,” Gloria rested a hand on the back of the chair opposite Alexis and leaned closer. “What a lovely necklace. Antique. Egyptian. My own dear, departed mother had one exactly like it.”

  Their gazes clashed. A sculpted eyebrow rose, yet not a single wrinkle showed on her sixty-year-old forehead, and then Gloria strutted to the exit as if the path were the yellow brick road. Damn, her mother had style and... She knows.

  Alexis didn’t have much time to reflect because her father exited next and Thomas plopped his ass in the same chair her mother had rested on. Silence as thick as cement filled the space between them until she caved.

  “Why?” One word. He damn well knew what the word meant, represented.

  He shrugged. “They called me. Then I called you. Figured a dose of the family was precisely what you needed. Still miss all the drama?”

  Alexis tossed some money down on the table and rose. Thomas grabbed her arm before she could sweep past him. Tirrika slithered around her neck, ready to attack. Alexis inhaled a slow breath and calmed. It wouldn’t do to have the anu’Ra leap off her neck, transform into a python, and strangle her selfish brother. Not when she wanted the pleasure of having her hands around his throat.

  “I didn’t know they’d be like that.”

  She yanked her hand away and headed in the same direction as her parents, out the damn door. “I’m sorry!” Thomas’s too late apology snatched at her conscience to accept it.

  No. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

  She hailed a cab at the corner. The driver wasn’t pleased with a drive to The Bronx, but she flashed him two Benjamins and he pressed the gas. In the back seat, she closed her eyes and pretended her father’s words didn’t hurt. Her brother’s betrayal didn’t hurt. She didn’t hurt. With her eyes closed, her brain shut down, and Tirrika’s radiant warmth, she could almost do it.

  Until her father’s words, the grief in his voice, echoed in her chest. The one person she didn’t want to disappoint, the one person she wanted to make proud, she’d failed. Her father. He would go to his death believing his daughter was a criminal, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

  Chapter Eight

  The cab coasted to a stop much too soon. Fare paid, she pushed open the white picket fence to her grandmother’s home. When would the cottage stop belonging to a woman long dead and be my home? Probably never. She bought it to spite her mother. As if Gloria would ever discover her fugitive daughter owned the home she had refused to sell for so many years.

  Now, Alexis felt foolish. Giving someone the middle finger didn’t mean shit when they couldn’t see it. Didn’t know you’d flipped them off.

  She took a long gander at Mrs. Kelly’s dark house across the street and wished the woman was home. What she wouldn’t give for a plate of her chocolate chip cookies and some sage advice. Too bad, the elder had moved downtown and taken leadership of the Order.

  She walked up the three short stairs to the covered porch. Headlights illuminated the dark recesses. She paused. All her neighbors were elderly and wouldn’t have visitors this time at night. Mercedes emblem on the hood. S Class, she noted when it coasted to a stop in front of her fence. The driver’s car door opened and light flooded the interior. Her mother stepped out of the sedan.

  The squeak of the gate, the click of her heels, the whiff of her perfume. Alexis’s gut clenched. Hate, not fear, knotted her stomach.

  Gloria strolled past Alexis and didn’t stop until she reached the front door. Like the dutiful daughter, Alexis followed behind, unlocked the door, and stepped aside.

  Gloria clicked on the light. She did a slow stroll around the living room, peered into the dining room and kitchen before she stopped. Pale blue eyes swept from the top of Alexis’s blonde head to her feet.

  “How did you find me, Gl
oria?” She’d stopped calling her mother a long time ago.

  “Really, Alexis. Did you think I wouldn’t have the realtor send me a picture of the couple buying my mother’s house?” She pointed at Tirrika. “I found that necklace when I was ten, the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I put it around my throat, but it didn’t have a clasp, kept slipping, wouldn’t mold to me as it does you. So, I taped the ends together and played dress-up. Funny thing, it never warmed, stayed cold the entire time. Rejected at the age of ten.”

  Gloria pulled off her gloves and shrugged off her coat. “Even if I hadn’t seen the necklace, if you’d had it hidden beneath your sleeve, wrapped around your waist, I still would have known my only daughter.” A manicured finger circled her face. “I can see through the hocus pocus. I may not be able to sift through an individual’s emotions with just a touch, like the other descendants of the Eidos, but I do have a bit of power.”

  Now you divulge secrets after so many years of nothing but contempt for anything related to our heritage.

  Alexis snorted. “And you came here to tell me this when you could’ve sent a postcard.”

  “You get your sarcasm from your father.” Gloria sat. “I do like the remodeling and decoration. Didn’t think you had a sense of style in you.”

  Bile burned the back of Alexis’s throat. Or was it anger? Impossible to tell as she assessed Gloria. She sat opposite her uninvited guest, refusing to feel as if she’d been summoned before judge and jury. She willed her blonde alter ego away and faced Gloria without the hocus pocus. “I know you didn’t come all the way here to comment on the new décor. So...why the visit?”

  With her perfect manicure, Gloria tapped out a tune on the arm of the leather chair. “I came to tell you to stay away from Thomas.”

  Alexis’s heart twisted and kicked into overdrive. “I didn’t seek Thomas. We ran into each other in Little Italy.”

  Gloria waved her words away. “I don’t care. I don’t want him involved with the Order, The Eidos, or the Nicolises.”

  “In other words, you don’t want him involved with me.” Because, in a nutshell, Alexis was all of those things. She was a part of the Order, a descendant of the Eidos, and in love with a Nicolis.