Page 14 of Xander

I lifted a shoulder. “Maybe he cheated on her or some other form of infidelity. Emotional cheating? What else would elicit such anger?”

“Hmm.” Jordan tapped her bottom lip with her index finger. My eyes inadvertently landed on her mouth, coated in nude pink gloss to highlight her generous lips, then at her scar. “I don’t think he cheated on her,” she mused aloud. “She wouldn’t have come to this party and endured a celebration of love after that kind of betrayal. Why rub your own face in it?”

I nodded my head thoughtfully. “Good point. What do you think it is?”

“He forgot an important date,” she surmised. “Like her birthday or their anniversary.”

“You think so?”

“It’s justifiable enough to attend an engagement party but not enough to let him hold her hand.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

Jordan sported an all-knowing grin. We had no idea what the couple was fighting about, but concocting a fictional reality for others seemed like the best escape from her bleak night.

“What about them?” I nodded toward another mismatched couple. Conservatively, he was in his fifties, and she was in her early twenties. They were all over each other, sloppily making out next to the bar with his hand groping her ass.

“He is a movie producer, and she is an aspiring actress trying to catch her next big break. She believes sleeping with him will open doors for her, but little does she know that he has slept with half the people here, and it hasn’t gotten them anywhere.”

“You’re surprisingly good at this game,” I remarked, voice thick with humor.

Jordan nodded thoughtfully. “I am. She also happens to be a client of mine and told me she plans on sleeping with a producer for her next big break.”

I stared at her blankly with my jaw on the floor, then erupted into uninhibited laughter.

Of all the things I expected, Jordan Banks being a down-to-earth, funny woman wasn’t one of them. It didn’t make sense. Why would a woman like her marry my father? She didn’t need his money or a luxurious lifestyle; she could provide both for herself.

I wondered why I cared about the reasons, except the idea of true love between them left a bitter taste in my mouth. I preferred to imagine her as a gold digger marrying him solely for his wealth.

Without delving too deep into the unexpected thoughts, I pointed to another duo across the terrace. A hint of Jordan’s scent invaded my senses as she leaned in to whisper an elaborate story about their fabricated life. I held my breath to escape the smell, but it was futile.

Fuck.

I turned away from her and flagged down the bartender. “Would you like a drink?” I asked Jordan.

“Maybe just a glass of champagne. Your father has important business associates here, and I don’t want to get sloppy in front of them,” Jordan replied with a smile.

Of course not. Dad would never accept it if his bride were publicly intoxicated in front of his esteemed colleagues. That was all he cared about.

My father could be very charming for short spans of time. She believed his main folly was mixing business with pleasure and ignoring his bride-to-be during social outings. Little did she know that Henry Maxwell was far from the gentleman he portrayed himself as.

An odd constriction gripped my chest at the thought of Henry baiting and duping her.

While we waited for the bartender to serve our drinks, Jordan squirmed in her seat and then suddenly exclaimed, “I-I know you and Jasper aren’t happy about this marriage, but I hope you give me a chance and get to know me. I know you guys already have a mom, and I promise, I’m not trying to replace her,” she rambled. “I just want to be your friend.”

I blinked at the unexpected outburst. This woman wore her heart on her sleeve. She had no idea what she signed up for with Henry and was undeniably out of her depth. He devoured vulnerable people like her.

My father liked pretty things hanging off his arms. Usually, he dated women half his age but never got serious with them. I was surprised to learn Jordan was in her mid-thirties and even more astounded that Dad had proposed to her. It all made sense after meeting her.

Jordan came from old money and could converse with the well-bred people in our social circle. She was precisely the kind of woman Henry Maxwell wanted to show off, especially since his associates preferred conducting business in social settings with beautiful women to leer at.

The thought had me spiraling. Henry planned to use her like an object, a mere prop in his business.

Telling her this would only dampen her spirits, so I simply relented. “We can be friends.”

I had set out to freeze out my father’s new fiancée, yet there I sat, trying to put her at ease with a silly game, and then just like that, I was her friend. This woman possessed bewitching powers.

Jordan smiled, lighting up the world. The sun might be setting, but the glow of her warm skin and golden hair made it bright as day. “Okay, friend,” she said playfully. “Tell me about yourself.”