When Earth is conquered by the sinister Greys and the alien who killed Evie's husband returns seeking her help, she must find a way to enact her revenge and fight the growing feelings for the creature who is an exact replica of the man she loved.
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It was damn good wine.
I'd never been much of a wine connoisseur in the Old World, which was mad considering I worked in the arts, where simply every high-brow, high cheek-boned middle-class wannabe Cecily Brown or Takashi Murikami knew their Château Ausone from their bloody Chateauneuf De Pape.
But this? This was good wine.
I raised the bottle in the air and thanked the rich bastards of Lancaster House for having such good taste and for being wise enough to stockpile wine next to their jars of olives and tins of salmon.
'Cheers,' I said to the empty room, and took another sip.
Nothing but a tiny drop left. I sniffed, holding up the bottle and staring into the bottom. Huh. Empty. Thank God, I'd taken two. And thank Tom, because it was all down to him that I'd become such a good drinker after he'd died.
No. Not Tom. Thank the Grey.
The door opened, just a crack, and there he was, like he was a damn mind reader who popped up every time I thought about him.
God, that face. Would I ever get over the shock of seeing his face again?
I stared at him as he slipped inside. He closed the door behind him and just stood there, like he was guarding the bloody door or something. Pretending not to be bothered by his presence, I grabbed the second bottle and, flicking open my blade, I plunged it into the cork and twisted.
Another thing I had to thank him for. Learning to live without a corkscrew.
I raised the bottle to him this time. 'Cheers,' I said, taking a gulp. 'I'd offer you some, but I hate your guts. My dad always said, never drink with someone you hate. It turns the booze bitter and we can't have that now, can we?'
I took another gulp and swallowed. It really was amazing wine.
'Evie, what are you doing?'
His voice was so Tom. Everything about him was so Tom. I hated him. I hugged my knees into my chest and took another sip.
'If they find out you took the wine, you'll get into trouble.'
I laughed, leaning my head back against the wall as I looked at him. Fuck, I was tired. Or just drunk. Or both.
'Trouble? Darling, I'm already in trouble. But then again, you...' I jabbed a finger at him. 'You, Mr. Look-At-Me-Aren't-I So-Fucking-Perfect, well, you've made sure of that, haven't you? Well done, by the way. I'd raise a glass in your honour, but we have none, so I'll just raise the bottle instead. It's thanks to you that they all think I'm losing my bloody mind.' I took another swig and swallowed. 'Maybe I am. Maybe I am losing my mind. Definitely feels like it.' I sniffed.
Why was he just standing there looking so pathetic? Tom never looked pathetic. Maybe I should have told him he wasn't doing it right? That he needed to work on his method acting?
