The Paradise Problem Read Online Christina Lauren

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Chick Lit, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
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“Yikes.”

“She tried to clarify that she merely meant curvy, darling,” she says with an affected accent. “She said it was admirable that I could eat whatever I wanted without feeling guilty, and she was so glad I wasn’t one of those girls who stressed constantly about their weight, because why would I care about being skinny anyway? It’s so boring!”

I whistle through my teeth.

“It’s not all terrible, though,” Blaire says, and then winces. “I mean, okay it is, but there were funny moments, and I know you’d never believe this, but when he’s not with his parents, Alex is so much more relaxed. They really do bring out the worst in each other.”

“I can see that,” I say, even though honestly, I can’t imagine a funny, relaxed Alex.

“But, you know, the money certainly helps, and the good news with a messy family is that there’s never a dull moment.” She picks up West’s fork again and then pauses with it hovering in the air as she remembers something. “Oh my God, there was this one night Ray was just going on and on at Sunday dinner about some beef with an executive, and everyone was on edge. Charlie was away at school and Liam hadn’t been around for a while, but Jake was there and he’d brought a girl with him—which never happens.”

“I wonder why.”

“Lincoln was only a few months old, and I couldn’t drink because I was breastfeeding. I was about to murder everyone, so I excused myself to the downstairs powder room. I wasn’t the only one with that idea because I open the door and there’s Jake and his date and he’s got his hand completely up her skirt. I’m telling you he was wearing that girl like a mood ring.”

I have to cover my mouth to contain the laugh.

A waiter materializes at Blaire’s side and places a mimosa in front of her. She smiles up at him with gratitude and turns her attention back to me. “Listen, if I could have disappeared into that bathroom with them, I would have. But like I said, you get used to the weirdness. And you’re doing great. Everyone loves you.”

“But is this healthy?” I say quietly. “It’s not my place to say, but Ray is pretty terrible with the guys.”

“He is. You didn’t hear it from me, but I think they’re all waiting him out. I know Alex is. Ray will announce his retirement soon and Alex will step in.”

Acidic guilt crawls up my throat and I have to swallow it down. So everyone in the family except West is expecting Ray to pick Alex as his successor? Blaire lifts her champagne flute and takes a sip of her drink before leaning in and lowering her voice. “Ray can golf all day or whatever he does and be someone else’s problem. But between us, I’d prepare yourself for Ray to start turning the screws on Liam.”

“You mean pressuring him to come back to the company?”

She hums. “As COO. Ray’s dad, Albert, was a real stickler about family and wanted them all working together. Family is everything to the Westons. Now that Liam is back, I can’t see Ray letting him go again. Frankly, I’m surprised he let him stay away as long as he did.”

* * *

BACK IN THE BUNGALOW, West and I are quiet for a little while, each doing our own thing, and it’s nice. It’s easy. He’s even-tempered, resilient, and deeply capable—a combination that is so rare it’s no wonder the Ray Westons of the world try to drain him of every good thing he creates and gobble it down into their rotten, fiendish mouths. I never want to be like that with him. I see his goodness and only want to protect it. I think of what Blaire said and I’m ready to challenge Ray Weston to a duel.

“So,” West says, startling me and setting his phone on the table. “What do we have going on this afternoon?”

“How could you forget?” I ask, spreading my arms wide and singing, “Spa day!”

West groans. “No.”

“I’m not saying, but maybe I’m sort of saying, that there is one person in this bungalow who could absolutely use a massage and his name isn’t Anna Green.”

West scrubs his face with his hands. “This island is shrinking down to the size of a shoebox.”

“Well…” I have nothing useful to say to that, so I just pat his shoulder amiably as I walk by and climb onto the bed. “You should know I’ve been going over the treatment menu like I’m studying for a test.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like this crowd is very spa-literate. I don’t want to stumble over the words when I ask for the color vibration therapy or red pepper lipolysis.”

West works on untangling a mess of cords he’s pulled out of his backpack. “They can’t possibly be that intense about these things.”


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