Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
A few beats pass and then Violet’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Thanks for listening to me when no one else would.” She may not have had kind words for me the last time we met, but at least she doesn’t seem to hate me.
“You’re welcome.” I remember being fifteen. Not yet an adult and yet not a child anymore. Then again, Mama still dismisses my opinions on things now. “But I’m not the only one who listened.” I point toward the brooding man who paces outside, the blustering breeze fanning his hair. Henry is the one getting things done. I only nudged him.
She glances at him but stays quiet. Something tells me she’ll be too stubborn to acknowledge his help, just like she was too stubborn to ask for it in the first place. She needs to see another side of him. Unfortunately, Henry isn’t the easiest person to get to know.
I have a thought. I slide out my phone. “What’s your number?”
She frowns. “Why?”
“So I can send you our contact info, and the next time you want or need to see your father, you can call or text us.” Instead of showing up at the penthouse unannounced, which is what I think she has been debating while mutilating her breakfast.
“I didn’t want to see him,” she mumbles, but her cheeks flush, giving away her intentions.
Sure you didn’t. “You should be able to reach us, Violet,” I say more gently. “Just in case.”
She bites her bottom lip, considering the suggestion until finally, she relents.
I stifle my smile of triumph as she recites her number and I punch the digits into my phone.
CHAPTER 14
“I’m nervous about this,” I admit through a sip of my drink—a frothy cocktail named Beauty and the Beast for the decorative rose petals and bell-shaped glass. “A stranger is picking out my wedding dress for me.”
“No, Emmanuelle is designing the precise dress for you,” Margo purrs, elegantly draped in the teal leather wing chair across from me. She looks prim and regal, gripping her gimlet with a delicate hand. Completely opposite to the scantily clad fortune teller sharing Merrick’s dick with her boyfriend last night. “She has a talent for these things.”
“But what if I hate it?” They never asked me about my likes or dislikes. Puffy sleeves? A crinoline skirt? Lace? Bows?
“Abigail, have I ever led you astray when it comes to fashion?”
“No,” I admit with a hint of reluctance. If I could have Margo dress me every day, I would be relieved. And how does she manage to use her accent to make me feel guilty for questioning her?
“I can already see it now, and it will be magnifique. And Emmanuelle is not a stranger anymore. We spent all afternoon with her so you two could get to know each other!”
Yes, much of it with me standing in my bra and panties for countless measurements while Margo and the pint-size designer circled me, slipping in and out of their native tongue as they discussed past runway events and flirted with each other.
I tried canceling. By the time we put Violet in Henry’s car so Victor could drive her home to Philly and we walked back to the penthouse, it was already time to go. I wanted to sleep. But Margo would have none of it, and Henry ushered me out, telling me he’d be busy with the guys, anyway.
“Fine. I’m trusting you.”
“As you always should.” She winks playfully.
My attention wanders around the interior of Lux, the Wolf Tower’s restaurant and lounge, located on the fiftieth floor where the building changes shape, narrowing above us as it continues its climb to the clouds. One side opens to a terrace that’s closed for the winter.
Given it bears the same name as the Lux fine dining restaurant at Wolf Cove, I expected a similar vibe—silky linens and a killer view—but, while New York City’s skyline is incredible, everything else here feels different. It’s dark and moody, and far more lounge-like, with a mix of tables and cozy seating areas. Heavy velvets and leathers drape the walls and cover the furniture, and pendant chandeliers cast almost too little light. In the center is an enormous fireplace.
Henry and I have ordered dinner from this restaurant several times, but I’ve never stepped foot here in person. Now that I have, I think I’ll be dragging Henry down more often.
Joel is perched on a stool at the far end of a full bar. He wandered over there fifteen minutes ago to peruse the extensive high-end liquor along the wall, and now he’s in deep conversation with two women that he may or may not be trying to line up for a tryst. The way he strokes an auburn curl off one’s cheek tells me he likely is. The way she leans into his touch tells me he’ll likely succeed.