Adler | The Spawns of Succession BOOK 3

Inevitable | A SEVENTEEN

[STEVIE]

Who would’ve thought merely dressing up could be stressful?

I'd gone and changed my outfit for this dreadful affair several times. It was a struggle between a prompting to be presentable then reel from the disgust of giving any sort of impression I cared to suit such despicable people’s taste. Only to jump back at the one reason I was doing this was for my boyfriend and find I'd gone full circle.

I was so drained already but the messages from Will and Bee practically arranging to kidnap me for the rest of the day to cruise the town lightened the weight a bit.

“Are you still not done yet?” came the last voice I wanted to hear.

Garren sat leisurely on a lounge chair, book tucked to the side as a sign he'd gotten bored of the hotel's offered reading material. How this had seemed to turn into my issue was beyond me. One moment, I was consoling the man and the next, he was lying around the suite half-naked for hours without a care in the world. While I was preparing with him pestering me in-between and nitpicking on anything I tried on until I pulled it off.

My clothes were strewn on my twin bed. He, on the other hand, had freshened up and changed into the sports blazer, Ralph Lauren’s shirt and chinos he had his household staff deliver, looking as dapper as ever. Now having the nerve to ridicule me as if he wasn’t responsible for my dilemma.

“I would’ve been done if you weren’t here,” I snapped.

“Right, and I find it adorable when you blame me for everything and all but we've got roughly just half an hour before we'll have to go.”

Apparently, Mrs. Adler had dragged her husband to a small exhibition, leaving the only time to meet at the organised family brunch. Then Mr. Adler would be returning to the main branch offices operating in Birmingham.

Brunch would be spanning somewhere between two hours but apparently, if any of them had places to be, they’d be pardoned to leave earlier. So the plan was to clock out after the first served appetizers paired with whatever classic wine Mrs. Adler selected which Garren estimated would all take up to twenty minutes, if not less.

The game was a test of endurance, instances of having to play on offense or defense were not off the table but it would only be on for a maximum of twenty minutes. I could do this.

“What about that primrose max dress you wore when we went to that seafood place in Frankfurt?” He questioned.

“I didn’t take it with me.”

“Why?”

“I just didn’t.”

I heard him scoff as I took another look at my black, crop vest and my low collared denim jacket. “That’s interesting,” he started. “Seeing as you decided to take that pedophile magnet of a skirt.”

Oh god, every time with this shit. “Garren please. It was one guy and he was in his thirties.”

“And said he thought you were eighteen.”

“That was obviously just flattery to break the ice.”

“Oh, and weak lines like that are worth commending as flattering?”

All the rage just blew up in my head, everything came flying out the moment I glared at him. “Fine, I felt flattered! Am I supposed to feel bad about because it wasn’t from you? Who couldn’t even offer one word of a compliment so I might’ve known you liked that dress?”

Garren, evidently, hadn’t expected a counter so incisive but he quickly recoiled. “That’s pretty hypocritical considering you've never complimented once, either.”