Page 43 of Xander

Jordan had become estranged from her childhood best friend because they didn’t get along with my father. It left me with little optimism that she’d heed my warning if I cautioned her against Henry.

Worse yet, what if it ruined our friendship, too?

I grabbed her soft hand and pulled her close. “Jordan, there is something you should know⁠—”

“What’s going on here?”

Jordan snatched back her hand.

We turned to find none other than his highness, Henry Maxwell, striding toward us with purpose. With each deliberate step, he exuded the authority of owning the ground beneath him, which I suppose he did, along with everything else. The garden surrounding the house was large, but he closed the distance with his head held high and his shoulders squared.

Despite being in his fifties, my father maintained the finesse of a younger man. He wasn’t particularly muscular but used his tall frame and good posture to command the room. He regularly dyed his hair, dabbled in Botox, and was always a little too tan. Image was everything to him.

We exchanged a cordial nod as he neared. Others might perceive the reception as cold, but keeping my distance from him allowed me to maintain civility. This was a warm, fuzzy welcome where Henry was concerned.

“Hi, babe,” Jordan exclaimed before catching herself.

The third glass of champagne I talked her into must’ve gone to her head, and she forgot my father’s preferences for a demure partner. Henry’s gaze flickered over her, taking in the lapse of her poised personality. She quickly swapped out the big wave, reverting to a reserved version of herself.

“Where have you been?” Although his voice was perfectly polite, there was a hint of condescension in his eyes. He was saving the nastiness until she signed the marriage certificate. “Our guests have been asking about you.”

“I was just taking a walk with Xander,” she answered plainly, bypassing the hint of irritation in his eyes.

He knew we’d bonded over the past month but was too busy to care. This was the first time he had witnessed us interact, and by the expression on his face, he must not have liked what he saw.

No one spoke. His calculating eyes rested on me, and I could tell a nefarious plan was brewing in his mind. “Actually, I’m glad you’re both here,” he said at last. “I need to talk with both of you.”

“What about?” I asked cautiously.

“Jordan doesn’t have anyone to walk her down the aisle at the wedding. You can do it,” he declared with finality in his voice.

My head lurched back. A looming sense of panic settled in at the thought she’d forever belong to another man. It left an indescribable emptiness inside. I couldn’t give her away. I won’t.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Jordan gushed.

“No.” The curt answer earned a scathing look from Dad and a hurt one from Jordan.

Wounded eyes rounded at my visceral reaction. She thought we had become friends, and I was finally on board with this wedding. The reflexive, violent protest threatening to consume me had nothing to do with liking Jordan. In fact, liking her too much might be the problem.

Fire raged in my gut. I had always played the amenable son. It was the only way to survive Henry. He had trapped my family in a web with a long reach. I wasn’t stupid enough to strike back before escaping the well-placed net. The plan was to keep a low profile until Jasper graduated and the NHL drafted me. Then the gloves would come off, and I’d take him on. No matter how often Henry baited me, I satiated his massive ego with a Yes, sir.

But this? Absolutely not. There was no way I could give Jordan away to him.

Dad hid his contempt with a cool voice. “I’ll give you time to think it over. I’m sure you’ll feel differently in the morning.”

Translation: if I didn’t do as he said, he’d make life hell for Mom and Jasper.

I ground my molars, but the retort was lodged in my throat. Others were relying on me, and I didn’t have the luxury to consider only my needs. He gave me an illusion of choice, but we were mere puppets, dancing to the strings he pulled.

This was his kingdom, and everyone here must swear allegiance to the fascist emperor. If he doubted our loyalty at any juncture, he tested us with sadistic games. He pitted Jasper and me against anyone who might compromise our “devotion” to the Maxwell name. After years of unnecessary mind games, I sidled out of his focal point by flying under the radar.

Normally, I wore my poker face meticulously, never showing weakness or regard for others in front of Henry. I wondered what he saw to goad me.

“Oh. It’s okay, Xander. You don’t have to give me away.” Jordan tried to sound breezy, but her voice had gone up an octave. She was hurt. Fuck.

Dad didn’t address Jordan’s concern. As far as he was concerned, the matter was settled. His gaze returned to her. “You’ve been drinking,” he deduced.

“Um. Just a couple glasses of champagne.” She spoke as if she were caught with her hand in the cookie jar.