Alina
“SO WHAT’S HIS story?” Chris ignored my question at first, instead silently ushering me across the crowded floor and toward my father, who was engaged in conversation with a group of men. I yanked on his hand clasped around my own, raising my brows when he glanced back at me in slight annoyance.
“What?”
I repeated my question. “How well do you know that guy?”
“Not well,” he grumped, as if my questions frustrated him. “Divorced. No kids. Moved here from California a couple weeks ago.” Chris slowed his strides. “Funny you should run into him tonight. He usually doesn’t attend these types of events. His words, not mine.”
I caught sight of my father looking in our direction, and when he saw Chris by my side, he smiled. Not an I’m-happy-to-see-my-daughter smile, but an I-knew-you’d-see-reason smile.
I momentarily lost my breath, Max all but forgotten as each step took me closer to erasing a tiny piece of the future I longed for. It wouldn’t be long before my forced engagement would be announced, a public spectacle of sorts.
I could’ve refused my father’s demands, but in doing so, I’d put my passion for helping others in jeopardy. With me as managing partner someday, there would be no telling how much good the firm could do for those in need. He knew that was where my heart was, so he dangled that carrot in front of me so that goal was the only one I could see. In essence, I’d been blinded by it. Besides, my refusal would only cause a rift between us, and I couldn’t afford to lose another parent, no matter how infuriating he could be.
When we were twenty feet from my father, Chris stopped walking and turned to face me, pulling me closer, our hands still tightly joined. Holding his gaze, I tried to come around to the idea of becoming his fiancée, then soon after his wife. So far, I could attest that he was kind, witty, and charismatic, and certainly easy to look at. Why then, when my eyes roamed his features, did an image of Max pop into my head?
“Relax.”
I hated when someone told me to relax. “Stop telling me what to do,” I griped, hating that I sounded like a brat, taking out all my frustrations on Chris rather than on the one person who truly deserved them. The funny thing was, I couldn’t determine if that person was my father or me.
When defeat finally stole my posture, Chris flashed me a sympathetic smile. “Come on. Your father’s waiting.”
That simple statement annoyed me all over again, though admittedly my irritation hadn’t faded fully to begin with. “Oh yes, God forbid we keep the great Randall Winthrop waiting for another second,” I mumbled, snatching my hand from Chris’s and stalking past him. He caught up quickly, matching me stride for stride, even though his legs were much longer.
“What’s wrong with you tonight? You seem off.” I ignored him as I continued to walk ahead. “Alina,” he called out, snatching my elbow before I could put any more distance between us. I finally stopped, shrugging out of his grasp.
“What?” I wasn’t in the mood to entertain his stupid ideals that I had no right to be upset about having my future decided for me.
“Have you been drinking?” he unexpectedly asked.
“Yes.” I swore as soon as I acknowledged it, the alcohol swirled through me. Not to where I slurred my words or wobbled on my feet, but enough where a slight numbness gripped me, allowing me to speak my mind more freely. As if I was immune to any consequences that would occur if I rambled on, or even blatantly caused a scene.
“How much?” He stepped closer, looming over me and suffocating me with his presence. An image of Max bombarded me again, and I suddenly wished it was him demanding answers, no matter how messed up that made me seem.
As soon as the man entered my thoughts, I glanced around the room to try and locate him. Was he still sitting at the bar? Had he left? Was he here with someone and went off to find her? Why did the thought of him with another woman irritate me?
“Only two glasses.”
“Of?”
Huffing, I raised my head and glared at him just in case he thought he could intimidate me with his tone. “Scotch. What’s with the interrogation?”
If I hadn’t been looking at him so intently, I wouldn’t have noticed the quick tic of his jaw. Was he aggravated I’d been drinking scotch, or that I’d consumed any kind of alcohol? Taking a deep breath, he retreated a step and looked like he wanted to chastise me, but instead, he held his tongue. I couldn’t help but wonder if he would’ve let loose on me if we were married, feeling as if he had some sort of control over me.
“I’m not interrogating you. I’m just concerned, that’s all.” His expression softened, and I thought maybe I was reading too much into the situation. Maybe he really was just worried about me. He’d never given me a reason to doubt his intentions before that evening. He made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “Shall we?”
I took a moment before complying. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Knowing what was to come once we reached my father’s side, I gave in to having my future mapped out for me. Maybe if Chris had been on my side and had tried to talk some sense into my father, I would’ve had a fighting chance, but not when both men were dead set on me becoming Mrs. Chris Harris.