Page 8 of X: Command Me through Alexander’s Eyes

“No.” I continue past him toward my room and the waiting tuxedo. “Maybe I’ll fall in love with her instead.”

I won’t, but seeing the look on his face makes me almost consider it.

Garden parties causeme to miss the war where no one wore ridiculous hats or conversed in subtle barbs. There’s less courtesy among Edward’s pack of friends than in a mess hall, and the civility here is far less palatable.

And then there’s my brother playing his role: charming, debonair, studiously ignoring his boyfriend who’s sitting at a table alone while Edward flirts with a redhead.

If this is what my future holds—tea parties and false flattery—I wish I’d never come back. At least it would be easier to have never gone. I would be numb to this life now, conditioned to accept this as normal. But I don’t fit in here.

I don’t want to fit.

I’m about to quietly excuse myself from the festivities when Pepper Lockwood catches me. She’s smart enough to have brought her mother, so I won’t tell her off for what she did to Clara. That’s the limit of her intelligence, as far as I can tell, because it was stupid for her to piss me off. I know she took the photo, and I know she sold it. What I can’t fathom is why.

The Lockwoods blend into the scene well, their flowery blue dresses another floral addition to the landscape of partygoers. It’s amusing to see Pepper like this—her make-up toned down, along with her sex appeal. At the clubs, she prefers to wriggle on a hook like a piece of meat, waiting to catch something. I’ve never bit. Here, the intent is different. Both Lockwood women are on the hunt for husbands by the look of it.

“Alexander,” Mrs. Lockwood’s voice is coated with sugar as she takes my arm. “I can’t believe how much you’ve changed. You’re a man now.”

Thank god, she was here to inform me.

“But you haven’t aged a day,” I say. It’s not polite flattery. Thanks to modern plastic surgery, she hasn’t aged a day. “You could pass for sisters.”

Pepper looks less flattered by this proclamation. It’s all the more enjoyable because it’s true.

“Still a lady’s man.” Mrs. Lockwood flashes a mouthful of brilliant white teeth. “Unless the rumors are true…”

“Most rumors about me are true.” It’s easier to be what they want me to be. No one’s interested in anything else.

“But you’re not seeing an American, surely!” Her hand flutters to her chest like this caused her actual pain.

I wish I was seeing that American right now, but since Pepper got me into this mess, I don’t dare bait her mother. Whatever I say could easily wind up as tomorrow’s headline.

“No,” I scoff, gently pulling my arm free and shoving my hands into my pockets before either can try to hook me again. “Of course not. It was a prank someone played on me.”

“Well, it’s not funny at all,” she says seriously.

I level my gaze at Pepper. “No, it isn’t.”

“You’ll have to be more careful of who you kiss,” she says innocently.

“I think I’ll be more careful of my friends,” I tell her. Forcing a smile for Mrs. Lockwood, I cock my head toward the shrubbery. “You must excuse me. I have to find my brother.”

What I want to find is a moment alone, but it’s not in the cards. Some press secretary or attaché grabs me and hauls me toward the tent where my father and brother wait. Edward’s smile is thin-lipped. I glance over to the table and see David’s is nonexistent.

My father doesn’t even bother feigning happiness that we’re here. That doesn’t stop him from taking a Champagne flute and lifting it.

“Thank you for coming today to celebrate my sons. No father could not be prouder of them.” His voice booms over the crowd, which falls into rapt silence.

I don’t miss what he actually said. Judging from the way Edward flinches, he didn’t either, but we both hide it well.

“Edward has continued our long relationship with my university and graduated a year early,” he continues.

“Nerd,” I whisper to him.

“Wanker,” he says under his breath.

Father frowns but quickly goes on. “And Alexander has served his country and the world in the fight against terrorism. He’s seen first hand the sacrifice made by our men and women in uniform—two very different educations, but important nonetheless in reminding us all of our duties and responsibilities. I am certain both my sons understand the important roles they play in the world now. So please join me in raising your glass to them.”

It takes effort to lift mine. It feels as heavy as the yoke he’s hung around my shoulders with his poison-laced speech. I don’t drink. Instead, I wait my turn.