Chapter Four
Four
Baxter had become somewhat of an expert in cosmetic surgery and tweaksments over the course of his career, and Sylvie Calloway had had the lot.
She was, he suspected, a similar age to her ex-husband, but apart from a slight creping around her décolletage, her skin was plump and glowy, stretched tight over golf-ball cheeks.
“Be a doll and fix me a dirty martini,” Sylvie said when Baxter offered her a Dom Pérignon. “Champagne has a hellish number of calories.”
Alec came to join them. “Still battling the podge, then?”
“Still bald as a coot, I see.” Sylvie smiled sweetly. She offered him a fillered cheek, and he kissed it dutifully. She was American, and Baxter wondered how the couple had got together. Sylvie arched a brow. “Kate finds that appealing, does she?”
“It’s Kaitlyn,” Alec said mildly, “as you well know.”
Baxter crossed to the cocktail bar in the corner of the room. “One dirty martini coming up, madam.”
“Oh please, call me Sylvie. Madam makes me sound like an old maid.”
Alec snorted. “If the cap fits …”
“At least I’m not trying to capture my lost youth by fucking a child.”
“She’s hardly a child.”
“Jesus, Alec, she’s barely older than Carter!” Sylvie threw herself down on the taupe bouclé sectional, one arm thrown dramatically over her head. Baxter spiked two stuffed olives onto a cocktail stick and slid it into the briny cocktail.
“Who’s looking after her while you’re away?” Sylvie taunted. “The nanny?”
“Actually, the nanny quit.” Everyone turned to the door as Kaitlyn’s clear drawl cut into the exchange.
“She said I was too much of a handful.” Alec’s girlfriend was wearing what was no doubt an extraordinarily expensive designer dress, but which looked to Baxter like a silk handkerchief, knotted once at Kaitlyn’s left hip and again on her right shoulder.
She walked slowly over to Alec, the silk fluttering around her tan thighs.
“Fortunately, Alec likes his hands full, don’t you, baby?
” She pressed herself against him and gave him a long, deep kiss.
Alec’s hands reached obligingly to cup her behind.
Baxter placed the martini on a silver tray and took it to Sylvie, strategically positioning himself between her and the sight of her ex-husband and his new squeeze. Sylvie downed her drink in three gulps. “I’ll mix you another,” he murmured, taking the empty glass.
Sylvie pasted on a rictus smile. “Katie!” She crossed the room. “This is a surprise. I had no idea you’d be joining us for our family gathering.”
“It’s Kaitlyn,” the younger woman said. “And as it happens, I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“You didn’t know I would be here?” Sylvie’s voice tinkled, but there was no missing the tension beneath it.
“At our only son’s twenty-first birthday party?
” She touched Alec’s arm as she said this, as though she were making a statement on behalf of them both.
“What a funny assumption to make.” She turned to her ex-husband.
“Am I to expect any other surprise guests, or is Katya the
only one?”
“It’s Kaitlyn,” muttered Kaitlyn, but no one was listening.
“Carter’s bringing his new girlfriend,” Alec said. “Her name’s Jade Thorne—that’s all he’s told me.”
“You haven’t met her?” Sylvie was clearly delighted to have the opportunity to have one up on him. “She’s lovely.” She threw a sidelong glance at Kaitlyn. “Quite the beauty too. She’s an actress, so I’m sure she’ll get on famously with Francesca.”
Francesca Huxley was one of those actresses no one had heard of until they saw a photograph of her, at which point they realized she had been in a dozen or so of their favorite dramas.
When Baxter had looked her up (he liked to get a feel for who he would be looking after) he had seen rave reviews for The Glass Veil, which was debuting at the film festival this year.
“She’ll have Damian with her, I presume?” There was an edge to Sylvie’s tone.
“I’m afraid so.” Alec raised an eyebrow, then held up both palms as though fending off her riposte. “I know, I know, but they’re Carter’s godparents. We couldn’t not have them here.”
“He’s been quite nice, recently, as it happens,” Sylvie said. “He sent me a rather good bottle of 2005 Armagnac. The year our son was born.” This last line was directed at Kaitlyn.
“If he’s being nice, it’s because he wants something,” Alec said darkly. “No doubt I’ll find out this week what it is.”
“We have about half an hour before they get here.” Sylvie’s gaze traveled from Kaitlyn’s artfully waved hair to her tottering metallic heels, then up again. “Does that give you time to get ready, Katherine?”