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- - -
The champagne flowed. Laughter filled the air. Music, light and smooth, played on. A party in her name.
Lara found it all dreadfully boring.
Amidst all the bustling and mingling of suits and dresses, Lara was content to drift on through like a cloud. It was just her luck that one man would make himself a living barricade. She blamed her dress - shimmering black, flowing down to her ankles, backless and with a dipping neckline. Elegant as befitting a woman who held the name Croft. But some men got the wrong message.
Silver-haired and barrel-chested, the man stood of a height with Lara, his rounded face flushed pink at the cheeks and the forehead. Lara only faintly recognized him - his name was Bernard or Bertrand or Brennan. Something of that sort. He had been one of her father's very distant acquaintances.
To his credit, he wasn't being rude or particularly difficult, so Lara at least pretended to be interested in what he had to say.
"I could never do any of it." He said to her, waving one hand. The other held a flute of golden, bubbling champagne. "All the running and all the climbing. And the sweating. Especially not out there, in the jungles."
"I never minded a good bit of exercise." Lara wanted to shrug, but reluctantly minded her decorum. Her house, her party, her reputation. She only had to play the good host for a couple more hours.
"But out in the wild?" Bentley or Bartley shook his head, aghast. "Putting up with the heat and humidity and the wildlife? Goodness, all those bugs. I read that the rainforest is just filled with them."
"Oh, plenty. Mosquitos, spiders, centipedes. Ants the size of your thumb." Lara spoke casually, pantomiming the crawling critters with her fingers. Across from her, Bartholomew looked like he was trying to keep from gagging.
"Good Lord. And none of it bothered you?"
"I brought bug spray."
Lara excused herself next, as politely as she could manage through her boredom. The last thing she wanted was to be rude. All these people had come to celebrate her.
The truth was, none of them really got it. They didn't understand why she did what she did. They didn't understand why Lara Croft was Lara Croft. The whole lot of them - wealthy, sheltered, soft. The men were the most disappointing, Lara found. A life of thrills and adventure had ruined her.
Her type, as Lara learned to her dismay, was in short supply. Not just here at home, but everywhere.
Men who could keep up with her.
Lara moved along, drifting from small talk to small talk, greeting guests with forced smiles. The cloud of boredom stayed, heavy in the air.
Spotting Mallory Simon brought a small bout of relief.
Entering into her late 40s, the woman carried her maturity with enviable grace. With her pale blonde hair done up in a neat, smooth bun and her voluptuous figure wrapped in an evening gown of dark blue, Mallory exuded a calm, unshakeable confidence. Not quite as tall as Lara, but she stood with refined posture, moving with practiced elegance only big money could have. And she had big, big money. In fact, Mallory's company, Simon International, had partly funded quite a few of Lara's expeditions.
"You put our funds to good use, Lady Croft." Mallory drew her grey eyes over the assembled artifacts and trinkets Lara had brought back from the Peruvian excavation site. Over a dozen of them in total, all posed neatly in long, glass cases that now lined the Croft Manor's open foyer. "Very impressive haul."
"I'm glad the artifacts are to your liking, Lady Simon."
"They're not to yours?" Mallory glanced her way with a pinched brow.
Lara let out a tiny sigh.
"The artifacts are splendid. It's the adventure that was lacking."
"Ha. You sound like my husband." Mallory wore a small, wry grin. "For him, the chase is just as important as the prize."
"Sounds like a smart man. It's just my luck then that you've already snatched him up."
Mallory gave a playful scoff.
"Oh, stop."
"Is Mr. Simon here with you? I sent you both invites."
The older woman shook her head.
"David couldn't make it, unfortunately. Business deals required his attention back in the States. I brought our son instead. It's good for him to travel at his age."
"Right. Lucas, isn't it?"
Lara remembered the boy. Faintly. Mostly, she remembered how he couldn't look away from her… and barely had the nerve to look her in the eyes. On the other hand, maybe it wasn't nerves that kept his gaze below her neck. Lara grinned at the memory. That had been some four years back, at least. Only a few months after she first met the Simons.
"He'll be happy to see you again." Mallory poured on with mirth. "Even happier that you remembered his name."
"I'm sure."
Lucas had to be a teenager now. No doubt meeting her way back when had been a… formative experience. Lara tried to imagine how he'd look now. He'd been a shy, skinny thing the last she saw him. A pale face with big grey eyes under a shock of deep black hair. Cute in the way young boys were. But puberty had a way of changing things. Perhaps those hormones had dealt him a poor hand, turned him into the greasy, pimply sort. Transformed a darling boy into a surly, moody, horny bloke. Lara dreaded meeting him again if that was the case.
"He's around here somewhere…" Mallory trailed off as she glanced about. Then she set Lara with a beaming smile. "Please say hello if you get the chance. You'll be surprised how much he's grown."
Heightwise, hopefully, Lara thought as she politely nodded along.
"He got into history because of you, you know." Mallory added.
Lara's brow rose an inch. She'd left an even bigger impact on the boy than she had guessed.
"Thank you for coming, Lady Simon." Lara gave a small, polite bow, inching away.
Mallory gave a playful roll of her eyes.
"I'm American, Lara. I'm not a lady."
Lara let her eyes flash with some spirit as she turned away.
"Neither am I."
- - -
The party circuit didn't stop. For the next couple hours, the hundred or so guests of Croft Manor needed to be properly entertained. That was Lara's duty as a Croft, no matter how much she bemoaned it.
But there was nothing - nothing - she bemoaned more than running into Howard Caine.
A burly man of thirty, tall and broad and hale, and heir to his father's expansive business empire. However, his size could not make up for what he lacked in charm. Right now, for instance, the blowhard didn't even try to hide how he was ogling Lara's tits. And he was standing a bit too close…
"I get it, you know." He told her. He wore a sly look, so aggravating was the shine in his eyes. It was a struggle for Lara to keep from rolling her own.
"Get what?" It was a bigger struggle to keep the edge from her voice.
"All the trips overseas, all those expeditions, the mountain climbing and the tomb raiding. There's nothing quite like getting your hands dirty."
Lara pretended that the innuendo didn't almost make her gag. She barely attempted a friendly face.
"What can I say? I like the challenge."
Caine made a pleased sound. Lara chided herself then - the lout thought she was flirting.
"You and I are a lot alike in that regard." He said, leaning in closer. His breath ghosted over her skin, hot and unwanted.
"Are we?"
"Parties like this, fancy galas, nightclubs… they're domestic amusements. Simple. Safe." He lowered his voice, speaking slowly now. Probably thought it added to his nonexistent mystique. "They don't scratch that itch, not like getting out there. Out in the real grime and grit."
"It's hard to get the same sort of thrill back home." Lara agreed. The insult was pointed. So was her look. Caine noticed neither.
"Right? Rock climbing, skydiving, I've done it all." He boasted, chuckling now. His eyes were shining brighter now - when they weren't diving back into Lara's cleavage. "Nothing comes close to hunting safaris. Bagged myself a lion last summer. Big one, too."
"Oh."
"A real mighty fellow. Old bastard, though. Might've been the head of his pride at one time. Did him an honor, I say, taking him out before another lion put him down."
"I'm sure if the beast could speak, he'd have thanked you." Her contempt could not have been more obvious. Yet Caine's smile only grew.
"You might be right, Lady Lara."
She imagined throwing champagne in his face. Stomping his foot in with her heel. Twisting his arm until he was on his knees, wailing. Each imagined scenario brought her more gratification than the last. In the end, she had to settle for the sharpness of her tongue.
"Just Lara. I'm no lady, Mr. Caine. And you're no hunter. If you'll excuse me."
Lara strutted off, taking some joy in the sputtering behind her.
- - -
Lara found Winston next, standing at the balustrade overlooking the main hall. The older gentleman's stoic, lined face made for a welcome sight amidst the party-goers. Her butler stood with dignified, noble posture, almost like a statue - a testament to his discipline. In a way, Lara envied him. Considering some of these guests, the man's patience had to be boundless.
"Winston." Lara came up beside him, looking over the bustling guests down below.
"Lady Croft." He greeted, ever holding to that distinguished poise. Lara had long given up trying to get him to stop with the "lady" nonsense.
"How are you managing?" She asked.
"The hired staff have been perfectly competent. More or less a miracle, considering the short notice I was given."
"I knew you wouldn't let me down."
"In any case, the evening is proceeding smoothly. Only three of your guests seem to be drunk."
"A dozen more and we might have a real party."
A flicker across the man's brow and some pinching at the corners of his eyes was as close to a horrified gasp as Lara would ever get from him. Still, it was enough to brighten her mood.
"As your father's loyal man, I'd prefer not to turn Croft Manor into a den of iniquity." Was Winston's frank reply.
Lara turned and let the man have one of her bold, spirited smiles.
"Come now, Winston. Where's your sense of adventure?" She pressed him, half-jokingly.
"Sufficiently sated in the Falklands, Lady Croft."
Lara gave a little snort. She couldn't argue against that.
Her eyes drifted, settling on the grandfather clock ticking away down there on the ground floor. Lara silently balked at the time the clock face read. The night was still young. Unfortunately.
A long, tired breath escaped her lungs. She turned and patted Winston on the arm.
"I'm going to mingle some more. God help me."
"Some liquid courage for your trouble?" The older man produced a silver tray holding a single flute of golden, bubbling champagne.
Lara accepted it gratefully.
"Thank you, Winston." She said with total sincerity.
The adventuring heiress took a sip, letting the crisp flavor settle in her mouth. She only had to endure for a couple more hours.
- - -
The worst part of the whole ordeal was that most of her guests were perfectly gracious and well-mannered. Aside from that utter knob, Caine, these people had come to honor and congratulate her - young Lady Croft, woman of nerve and daring, braving the dangerous wilds just like her father!
Their worst sin was being boring. Even then, it wasn't their fault that a life of adventure had spoiled her for wealth and comfort.
The champagne helped a little, but a single glass wasn't going to get her to loosen up. In the end, Lara decided to get some air.
The party extended even out into the Manor's garden. An open space right before the hedge maze was dolled up, decorated with hanging lights, chairs, and a couple tables set with all manner of hors d'oeuvres. Out under the stars, it was a pretty little spot, though there couldn't have been more than a dozen guests milling about. Including waitstaff, Lara counted less than twenty people. It was a relief to see - she was in dire need of some space.
Lara greeted the few guests as she passed them by, shaking hands and exchanging niceties with familiar faces she couldn't name. Finally, finally, as she came to the maze's edge, she found a moment to herself. Some peace to go along with that crisp, cool evening air.
She closed her eyes, breathed it in. Nice and calming.
Until…
"Having fun?" A man's voice, smooth and clear. He sounded confident… and young.
Fighting back a groan, Lara turned to see the speaker, expecting another smug, punchable smirk like the one Caine had worn. Instead, she found a friendly grin set over keen, willful grey eyes.
He was young, just as Lara suspected, but was pleasing enough to look at. A better sight than Howard Caine, to be sure. The young man was fresh as fresh-faced could be, with full lips and smooth, fair skin. Yet he did not look soft - his features were striking. Lara took in the solid line of his jaw and the definition of his high cheekbones, finding some faint familiarity in them. It gnawed at her, even as she returned the young man's smile.
"I'm the host, I should be asking you." She traded. The words came easy now, much to Lara's surprise.
He was well-dressed, she noticed then. Not like most of the other male guests, wearing suits and the like. This young man's attire was more minimal, sleek. Shined black loafers rising into slick, fitted slacks and a simple, dark button-down shirt. Rolled-up sleeves wrapped snug around well-defined forearms and the fabric gave shape to the lean, solid muscle of his chest and shoulders. Simple, yet sharp. It was a good look to match his neat, backswept black hair.
He was the perfect image of a schoolboy heartthrob. Couldn't have been older than eighteen. But damn, if Lara hadn't seen those grey eyes before.
"I guess I can't complain." The young man conceded. American, judging from his accent. "Nice little snacks, free champagne…"
"Are you old enough to drink?" Lara narrowed her eyes, remembering herself.
"I'm old enough for a lot of things." He shot back without missing a beat. He looked back towards the manor. "Fancy place you got here."
Maybe it was in his tone - the young man's confidence was a world apart from Mr. Caine's. Smooth, genuine… even charming in its own amusing way. Lara decided to humor the lad.
"No doubt a young man like yourself is fascinated by the architecture." Lara said dryly. Subtle as he tried to be, she still caught the flicker of his gaze towards the neckline of her dress. It did dip a bit low, in his defense. But then again, that was why she chose to wear it.
"I just might be. Certainly wouldn't mind crashing in a place like this."
"You and countless other men." To the lad's credit, he didn't falter in the face of her pointed words. In fact, he seemed to enjoy being caught. Those eyes of his were still so familiar… "Have we met before, mister…?"
"Right. Forgot my manners." The young man stood up straighter. Lara figured he'd be of a height with her if it weren't for her heels. "A pleasure to be here, Lady Croft. I'm Lucas. Lucas Simon. We've met before."
Lucas offered his hand and Lara offered her own as she tried to recollect their last meeting… only for her thoughts to suddenly stall when the boy pressed his lips to her knuckles.
Bold was the only word running through Lara's head for a long moment. She made an effort not to laugh at the ridiculousness. It would have been rude… and Lucas might mistake it for her giggling. His face was written with clear, shameless attraction - he didn't care if she saw. And as she took in the hunger in his eyes, it finally clicked in Lara's head.
"Lucas Simon." She repeated quietly. "You're Mallory's boy."
Inwardly, she kicked herself for not making the connection sooner. He had his mother's eyes… and Mallory had said herself that she had brought her son along.
"I haven't felt like a boy in years. But yes." He released her hand, his eyes glimmering with good humor… and still that open hunger. "It's good to see you again, Lady Croft."
"Please. It's just Lara." She shook her head, taking him in again with a long look over. The years had been kind, very kind to young Lucas. "Last time I saw you, you were-"
"Shorter. Quieter. Way more nervous."
His words rang true. The last time Lara had laid eyes on Lucas, he'd been a pale and gangly youth with poorly fit, baggy clothes and shaggy black hair. She remembered how he'd been so smitten with her that he practically forgot how to speak. And from the way his mother had teased him about it, Lara couldn't have helped but feel pity for the poor boy.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You were a cute lad."
"I was thirteen and scared of talking to girls."
"Seems to me you turned out alright." More than alright. Puberty dealt you a damn good hand. "God, how long ago was that? Four years?"
"Five. I'm eighteen now." While he didn't seem to puff out his chest, his cool smile told all. "According to the law and my driver's license, I'm a real man."
"You look the part… if a bit fresh-faced."
"I feel the part." He shot back. There was force in his voice now. The sort of edge Lara expected from a man decades older. Lucas looked her straight in the eyes. "Felt it since I was fourteen."
Lara held his gaze, her smile fading some. She was unsure if she wanted to know what he meant by that. Still… curiosity slithered on through her belly, coiling into a knot.
"Really?"
Lucas' posture was relaxed, assured. His eyes dipped to her cleavage again, then lower. He raked his gaze over every inch of her, head to toe. The audacity nearly left Lara with her mouth agape.
"Let's just say I haven't been afraid of girls for a long time."
Lara couldn't hold it in. Hearty laughter broke free, undignified, unladylike, snorting and all. It didn't come from a place of mockery or disdain - it was born from the sheer absurdity. Mallory Simon's boy was hitting on her! Lara couldn't even feel angry about it. In truth, there was a part of her - a small part - that just had to respect his confidence. Even now as she giggled in his face, he was still holding to it.
"That's… that's good." Lara settled herself, catching her breath. "A man should be confident. The real challenge… is learning how to behave yourself."
"How am I doing so far?" He remained cool, collected. Undaunted by Lara's very pointed look.
Lara narrowed her eyes as she read his face. He had taken the hint just fine… he just didn't seem to care for it.
He actually thinks he's getting somewhere, Lara realized.
"I'll hold judgment for now. Your mother said you'd be happy to see me."
"I am."
"Clearly. Do you have to look at me like that?"
"Like what?" His eyes drifted over her again. Blatant, deliberate. That irked a little.
"Like you have a chance."
"You haven't shot me down yet."
"You're eighteen."
Lucas shrugged.
"Old enough."
All Lara could do was shake her head. Ridiculous. This was so utterly ridiculous. Lara found herself wishing she had another flute of champagne - not just to throw in the teenager's face in case he got too out of turn, but for her own jittering nerves.
"Good God." She groaned, looking up to the stars. "That's some nerve you picked up in the last few years."
"When a man knows what he wants, he goes for it."
"A man." Lara almost broke out in giggles again - more from utter shock than amusement. "You're a boy. You couldn't handle me, love."
She reached out and gently patted his cheek. A diminutive gesture. One that would hopefully put some sense back into the boy. Yet the hunger swirling in those grey eyes shined one.
Touching him had been a mistake, Lara quickly realized. Lucas eased closer - not so much as to intrude into her space, but just enough for her to notice.
"You'd be surprised at how much I can handle." His voice was low enough that only Lara could hear him, but the words were anything but soft. They had sharpened their edge, cutting into something ravenous just under the surface. "And I'm no boy."
He wasn't backing down. So neither was she.
Lara inched closer, fiery eyes over a pleasant smile.
"You're a sweet-faced, filthy-minded boy who is way, way out of his league." She purred slowly, letting each word pour out of her mouth.
For a split second, the shine in Lucas' eyes went brighter than the sun.
"I've got ten inches that says otherwise."
His retort was blunt, knocking into Lara's head so clearly that she was sure she heard it echo. That cocky grin of his had faded from his face. The teenager was dead serious.
Lara didn't breathe, didn't blink. Her heart thumped in her chest, thumped and thumped and thumped. She held his gaze. And held it. And held it. And…
Lara broke out laughing again. Utter scandal entwined with sweet joy. It was delightful in such a crude, awful way. As twisted as it was, she was grateful for Lucas and his filthy words. The party certainly wasn't boring anymore.
Again, Lara had to settle herself - others were starting to look their way. The expression Lucas wore hadn't so much as twitched. No shame, no regret, nothing. It was almost enough to tickle Lara pink all over again.
A simple slap would set him straight, no doubt. Lara held back, though. Making Lucas into a proper lad was up to Mallory - and something to be done in private.
"Oh, Lucas." Lara sighed. "And you were so polite when you were thirteen. Such a shame."
"No shame in being bold and taking chances. And there's no shame in being curious."
Still flirting. The stones on this boy…
"I'm not. Curious, I mean." Lara told him emphatically as she began to draw back. Way back. "Thank you for the laugh, Mr. Simon. Be a good boy for the rest of the evening and maybe I won't recount how bold you've been to your mother."
Lucas took the put-down with more grace than Lara expected from a teenager. No blushing cheeks, no sweat upon the brow. Still so assured. Still so cocky. Still admiring her.
"The offer stands. Remember that." Lucas never looked away even as she drifted back towards the manor.
"Already forgotten, love." Lara gave him a twiddling wave. Then she turned away. The next moment, she was back indoors.
Heels clicking against the floor, she brushed past guests and waitstaff alike. She needed another drink. Something stronger than champagne.
Ten inches? Lara scoffed. The biggest she'd ever had barely measured nine.
Lucas Simon was all bluster. At his ripe age of eighteen, he couldn't be anything else.