Page 368 of Double or Nothing

I wish I could take the bastards away from him and put them in the bin.

“Christopher mentioned Claridge’s and The Halston Rooms,” he says.

“Hmm. Too obvious. They aren’t going for a swanky private event. They want bigger. Better.”

“Westbridge Hall. Dunbar House. Willstone Castle…”

He takes a bite of his toastie and his eyes close for half a second as he savours the taste.

Thank you, Toastique Pro.

“Did he say anything else?” I ask. “Florists? Invites? Caterers?”

“Plenty, but nothing of note. Something about pastels and how well they showed off her hair.”

“Alice in pastels? As if. Can’t believe she would actually agree to this shit. Whatever hold they’ve got over her is a pretty big one. Far beyond a studio paid for with Daddy funds.”

“I don’t think Alice is agreeing to anything herself. Not genuinely. Christopher said Susan had narrowed down the arrangements and Alice was happy to leave it with her.”

“Happy?”

“That was his word.” Bryce leans back on his stool, the frustration clear on his face. “Honestly, Jack, you should have heard the prick. He made it sound like the romantic union of the century. Said she adored him so much it was hard to get to work in the morning.”

My jaw tightens. What utter bullshit.

The old me would already be halfway to her parents’ place by now. No plan. No patience. Nothing but fury and the certainty that breaking Alice out of there would excuse whatever damage I caused along the way. There would be plenty of it.

That version of me got her paintings to one point two five million pounds, but it also sent her home terrified and drove Bryce out of my life.

I’m still angry at her shitstorm of a situation. The difference is that I have control of that anger now.

I’m a steel flame rather than a wildfire. I’ve taken a bit of Eli and wedged it into my character.

He’d be pleased as punch to hear me attribute it to his influence. But it’s down to Bryce, too.

Bryce and Soul Girl.

“What else has the Otley prick been going on about?” I ask.

Bryce gives me the full rundown. The guest list has expanded beyond five hundred.

A designer is altering Alice’s dress. There will be a string quartet, a society photographer and a wedding party made up of women Alice barely knows.

Every detail winds the steel inside me tighter.

I let Bryce run out of fuel with the wedding plans and listen as he sighs. His heart looks set to break as he stares at me.

“Jack, they are seriously fucking her over. Helena Mercer has been asking whether Alice would consider another large-scale commission. Other galleries have been querying her work.”

“Doesn’t surprise me. What’s the response? Let me guess. After the wedding. Such a tremendous event, blah blah blah.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s far worse than that.”

Every request has received a ridiculous response apparently. Alice is resting. Alice is considering her future. Alice is currently unavailable.

Unavailable.

That bastard family has turned a living woman into an automated response.