Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

29. Antons Worst Nightmare

29

ANTON'S WORST NIGHTMARE

ANTON

‘ I saw the twins today,’ my wife says as I kiss her bare shoulder. I’ve come home from a dinner to find her in our ensuite bathroom, removing her makeup. Her hair is pulled back in a clip, and I am very interested in what appears to be a new ivory satin nightgown with strategically placed lace.

‘Did you?’ I stand behind her, toying with the tiny satin strap as I kiss my way along her shoulder to her neck. ‘How come?’

She’s so beautiful. Coming home to her, even after all these years, is something else. The whole way home, I was tapping my foot in the back of the car as we edged forward in London traffic. Yeah, I have plans for her tonight. Plenty of plans. But that’s not the reason I was desperate to get home.

Things are better where she is.

Peace is where she is.

It’s as simple and as profound as that .

I slide an arm around her waist, feeling the softness of her stomach through the sensuous silk of the nightgown.

‘They invited me to lunch at the Arts Club. Can you believe it?’

I laugh. ‘No. They presumably made you pay?’

‘Obviously.’

I shake my head against Gen’s neck. Stingy little brats. The student allowance I give them is probably better than the average graduate’s starting salary at any investment bank in London, and here they are, scrounging free lunches off their stepmother.

‘Amie did offer,’ she clarifies. ‘Annabel shut her down, and obviously I would never let them pay.’

‘I assume they wanted something? No offence.’

‘None taken.’

I raise my face so I can smile at her in the mirror. She busies herself with squeezing droplets of some serum onto her palm.

‘Darling?’

‘Mmm-hmm?’

‘Out with it. What did they want?’

‘You’re not going to like it,’ she says, rubbing her palms briskly together before smearing her skincare over her face. It smells heavenly.

‘Shoot.’

‘Fine, but please try not to overreact, okay? I’d rather not burst an eardrum.’ She takes a deep breath and looks my reflection straight in the eye. ‘They wanted me to give them Alchemy membership.’

What the actual fuck? I pull my hand away from Gen and turn, pacing around the bathroom. The mere concept of my little girls and Alchemy in the same sentence makes me want to heave. ‘Are you fucking insane ?’ I bellow .

She turns and crosses her arms, glaring at me. ‘We are not having this conversation like this. Don’t shoot the messenger. We either discuss it calmly, like adults, or not at all.’

I take a deep breath, flaring my nostrils. ‘I assume you told them over my dead body?’

‘Something like that. I told them it was an outright no. But I also promised them I’d speak to you about it. They were very articulate and they asked very smart questions. I swear Annabel should be a corporate shark.’

‘Tell me about it. But the answer is still no.’

She inclines her head in acknowledgement before turning back to face the mirror. ‘I get that. One hundred percent. But maybe it’s something you and I should talk about.’

‘They’re kids.’

‘They’re twenty-one, Anton. They’re five years over the age of consent, so if you don’t think they’re sexually active then you’re smoking something. You’ve met their boyfriends in the past, for Christ’s sake. Did you think they were hanging around and crocheting with these boys?’

I hate that she’s right. And, by my calculations, they’d technically be eligible for Alchemy membership. The club has no interest in sixteen year-olds who may technically be legal in this country but who still have far too much maturing to do.

The minimum age policy is there for good reason, and I abhor that my girls are now old enough to even consider it.

‘I don’t want to think about it,’ I say, shaking my head as if to clear this plethora of nauseating images from my brain.

‘I’m sure you don’t, but I assume there are lots of things parents don’t want to think about, and that doesn’t mean you can just bury your head in the sand and pretend you don’t have to deal with them or safeguard against them.’

I lean back against the edge of the vanity and stretch my legs out as I watch my wife complete her toilette. ‘Believe me, a lot of those problems can be easily rectified if I buy them an island. Women-only. They can complete their degrees remotely.’

She gives me a smile that’s equal parts pitying and derisive. ‘I’m pretty sure Annabel would develop a taste for women, in that case.’

‘Fine by me.’

‘Honey. They’re impressive and thoughtful young women who will have a sex life, whether we like it or not, and we should be thankful that they’re asking the right questions and looking into options that are safer and more palatable than getting hammered and swiping right. Amie even asked a very pertinent question about whether the vetting process includes psych evaluations.’

‘I’d never have got in if it did,’ I mutter, and her lips quirk.

‘I thought precisely that and resisted the urge to share that information with your daughters.’

‘Ugh. Amie asked that? I know there’s no hope for Annabel, but I was hoping Amie would end up becoming a nun or marrying some nice dweeb who couldn’t get it up and having a loving but sexless marriage.’

My wife’s jaw drops. ‘Anton! You can’t possibly wish that for your daughter!’

I shrug, and she presses on.

‘You, more than anyone, know how important a great sex life is. It’s really important that they set themselves up for that on their terms .’

I blow out a breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. ‘I’m entitled to find your arguments intellectually flawless and still want to dig my heels in,’ I say grumpily.

‘Yes, you are,’ she says, her tone placatory. She twists the lid off her moisturiser and dabs some onto her fingertip. I watch as she dots it around her face and begins to rub it in.

‘What’s the bottom line?’ she asks finally.

‘The bottom line is that there’s a world of difference between accepting that my daughters are sexually active and green-lighting something as overt, and kinky, and… fucking… debauched as a fucking sex club.’

‘You’re right, of course. I did try to scare them off—I told them to imagine every guy at the Arts Club naked and hitting on them—but Annabel was like a dog with a bone.’

I groan. ‘Please don’t use any word remotely relating to boner in the same sentence as Annabel’s name during this conversation.’

She purses her lips. ‘You’re being ridiculous.’

‘The problem with Annabel,’ I muse aloud, ‘is that she always has to think everything is her idea. Won’t have anyone else telling her no.’

‘Good gracious. I wonder where she got that gene from.’

I ignore her jibe. There are no genetic mysteries where Annabel is concerned, loath as I am to admit it. She’s also very like my eldest, Felix, and I’m uncomfortably aware as I continue this conversation of quite how flippant and unruffled I was when we fast-tracked Felix’s membership to Alchemy New York a few years ago.

‘So how do we put her off?’ I ask. ‘I know! We close the club to members one night and hire a couple of hundred of the most physically repellent actors we can find. She’ll come running straight home.’

‘Or just arrange to be there the same night,’ my wife says gleefully, cold, callous woman that she is. ‘If she spots one glimpse of her ancient father in a sex club she’ll run for the hills.’

I shudder. ‘Jesus Christ. Just thinking about it gives me the heebie-jeebies.’

Gen laughs. ‘Do you know what she suggested? That I tell you they both requested jobs as hosts, and then throw in that they’ll just take a plain old membership. She figured you’d be so relieved you’d roll over.’

‘How the fuck I’m supposed to get to sixty without a heart attack, I don’t know.’ That fucking girl will be the death of me.

Gen comes to stand in front of me, sliding her hands around my neck. She’s fragrant and glowing and gorgeous. ‘Poor baby.’

‘Why this can’t just be a hard no I’m not sure,’ I tell her. ‘We don’t owe them an explanation. It’s off limits and that’s that. They’re so bloody entitled.’

‘That’s not fair. You’ve done a great job with them. They’re wonderful girls. And of course, a hard and final no is an option.’ She takes a breath, like she’s steeling to deliver a lesson. ‘I have a very different perspective from you. I was horrified too, but I can also appreciate that a place like Alchemy, with all the success we’ve had refining the format and the measures we’ve put in place, might just be the best of a bad lot in terms of channels through which your girls can explore what they need to explore in a way that’s safe and, hopefully, very life affirming.’

The really awful thing, the worst thing about this entire conversation, is that the non-lizard part of my brain knows my wife is right. This is her turf. This is the hill she’d die on. I’m so proud of everything she and the guys have built, and I’d stand by it every fucking day, and I’m a loathsome hypocrite if I don’t allow my youngest daughters the same opportunities I allowed Felix without a second thought.

‘Permission to kit the entire fucking place out with our own security guards?’ I ask, sagging against her and gently removing her hair clip so her beautiful pale hair falls over my face, obliterating the world and its headaches.

She laughs and wraps her arms around me. ‘Maybe one or two. Now come to bed.’