London Escape Read Free Page B

I’ve never gone by my given name, neither has he. I’ve never heard him answer to anything but Will. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it as he chats with Mrs. Barron.
    We’re still standing on the threshold of their large estate, and I can’t help but steal a glance at the party inside. It looks as though it’s in full-swing, with people sipping champagne and wine out of fragile little glasses and eating disgusting things like fish eggs and goose liver on crackers.
    “And Kit!” Mrs. Barron seems to finally notice me hovering behind my dad and turns to me, planting air kisses on both my cheeks and enveloping me in a cloud of Chanel No. 5.
     “My, my, don’t you look beautiful!” She holds me at arm’s length and looks me up and down. “It’s a shame Jason’s not here to see you, green always was his favorite color.”
    I try to remember if this is true.
    She shows us into the house, still speaking. “Would you believe I haven’t heard a thing from that boy since last week?” She sighs dramatically, pressing a hand to her pearl necklace. “But you know how he is.”
    I nod, because I know exactly what she means. Though he had promised to call, I haven’t heard a word from him since the day he left.
    “Oh, he’s probably off scaling the Alps or spelunking in Brazil or some such nonsense,” she continues airily.
    I laugh quietly to myself. Sure, Jason is quite adventurous, but he is more likely to be lost in the Louvre than cave exploring in Brazil.
    “Have you spoken to him it all? Y’all were always close, weren’t you?” She’s ushered us to the buffet table, but all this talk of Jason has made me lose my appetite.
    I shake my head, but Mrs. Barron isn’t even looking at me, she’s busy surveying the food with a critical look.
    “Nothing in an entire week! You’d think he’d be a little more grateful since his father and I are paying his rent. But, no.” She sighs again and straightens a flower arrangement that’s already perfect.
    Before I can say anything in response, she’s exclaiming, “Oh dear, what is wrong with these salmon croquettes!” She sweeps up the offending platter and throws a last comment over her shoulder as she hurries away. “Enjoy the party, I have to speak with the caterer immediately!”
    I turn to give my dad an incredulous look and find him stuffing caviar into his mouth.
    “What?” he asks around a mouthful when I give him a disdainful look.
    “Did you hear all that?” I nibble nervously on a plain cracker.
    He simply shrugs. “So, Jason’s gone MIA again. Remember last summer? He was incommunicado in NYC for four days. Turns out he was just at the Met.”
    I’m still unsatisfied. “It’s not like him be completely out of touch with everyone. And also, since when do you use words like MIA and incommunicado?”
    He shrugs again and goes for more caviar. Before he takes another bite something behind me catches his eye. Immediately I see his face change. It’s his “work” face that I know all too well.
    He gives me a grim look. “I’ve got to go speak to someone.”
    I nod, I know the routine.
    “Don’t wander off,” he admonishes, back into overprotective dad mode. “And no drinking or sneaking off with boys.”
    I have to laugh at his warnings as he disappears into the crowd. Really, those last two things are the furthest from my mind at the moment. As far as wandering off, now that is quite tempting.
     
    Suddenly I’m regretting leaving my cell phone at home, but my dress didn’t have pockets and I wasn’t about to carry a purse. I decide to sneak upstairs to Jason’s room and borrow his laptop for a few minutes. He’s not there anyway, and maybe Alexa is still around on Skype.
    As I slip up the staircase unnoticed I spot my dad, engrossed in conversation with a dark-haired man. I don’t immediately recognize him. He’s probably ten years younger than my dad, solidly built with a sharp, square jaw. I don’t know why but he seems