Antitype Read Online Free Page A

“I thought you planned to bring a date, Noah.”
    â€œI forgot to call the service,” I lie. “Not really in the mood to entertain, anyway.”
    Gabe barks a laugh that devours the tinkling sounds of glasses and silverware filling the semi-dark room. “You don’t have to entertain
them,
” he says, his pale skin turning a nice shade of pink. “They entertain
you.
”
    I bite my tongue and busy my hands with unfolding a napkin over my lap. This is a prime example of why I can’t just run off and disappear. If I give up my place in the company, Gabe is next in line to take over for Dad, and look at him. Wasted before the main course. And his lack of respect for women . . . Is this what he plans to teach our younger brothers when it comes time to divvy up life lessons? One of us has to be an example for them.
    Damn it, where is my
wine
?
    Dad picks up the end of a butter knife and taps it against the table. “You look a bit on edge tonight, son. Something on your mind?”
    I give him a firm shake of my head. “No. Nothing at all.” If you didn’t count his incessant need to match me to a wife. A first of many, if he had his way.
    Dad starts to respond but stops short as movement closes in behind me, which means the sommelier has
finally
arrived. But I turn to find an acquaintance of my dad’s instead. Marco Underwood. He’s a wife jumper just like Dad. But worse. He’s the scumbag that doesn’t try to hide his intentions when he’s done. At least Dad tries to spare feelings.
    â€œMarco,” Dad exclaims, standing to greet his friend.
    The two side by side are a study in opposites. Dad’s the light, Marco the dark. Dad is pale, one hundred percent gray, thin, and very tall. Marco is black, bald, average in height, with a swollen middle. They’re the same age and have known each other for thirty years now, at least.
    Marco’s low timbre sounds like it carries from a deep well in the Earth. “I wish I’d known you would be here. We could have shared a meal tonight.”
    â€œIt’s a family celebration.”
    Marco looks affronted. “Aren’t I family?”
    Dad laughs. “Not yet.”
    I blink rapidly, and Gabe has frozen in my peripheral. The truth of what they’re saying hovers in the air, just out of reach, like an unknown shape behind an opaque layer of rice paper. The outline is visible, but I’m sure the details I’m filling in are incorrect. They have to be, because surely Dad wouldn’t do what I think he’s done.
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘not yet’?” I ask. The damn sommelier appears carrying two choices of red wine he must have personally paired with the meal I ordered. “Not now,” I tell him, waving him off. “Dad?”
    Dad grins at everyone as if he’s about to surprise us with news of a new baby or wife or, most likely, grandchild—my brother Carter just married a nice girl. “Everyone, meet Hannah’s first husband.”
    I’m out of my chair and glaring before any of my good sense catches on. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
    Marco shifts beside me, but I only have eyes for dear old Dad. He raises a hand to warn Marco to stay out of it. The surrounding tables have gone completely silent. Waiters have stopped in their tracks.
    â€œNo,” Dad says in a low, level tone. “I suggest you keep your peace, son. This is neither the time nor the place.”
    I throw my napkin on the table and look at my brother, who sits in stunned silence. “I’m sorry, Gabe, but I forgot I have something important at the office to take care of.”
    He nods and swallows hard, then finally says, “Yeah, sure. Go.”
    I feel bad for doing this to him, but when Dad and I get going, it’s not fit for public consumption. I need to get out of here before I
really
lose my temper.
    I kiss Annabelle on