Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Once he and Madison returned to the kitchen, more stilted small talk ensued since no one could say what they truly wanted to. The room fell silent when Ramona set steaming plates in front of him and Ethan on a nearby eat-in bar. Everything looked divine, and Matt hadn’t realized how starved he was until he smelled the tender roast beef.
As he washed all the delicious chow down with iced tea, Ramona glanced at her watch, then scanned Madison’s appearance. “You better get dressed for dinner.”
Matt scowled. Her prim white pantsuit wasn’t dressy enough?
“I supposed that means Agatha set aside a dress for me?”
Ramona’s smile turned brittle. “Naturally. And you’ve only got a few minutes before the Westbrooks arrive.”
“Then I better get to it.” Madison turned to him and Ethan. “Enjoy your dinner, guys.”
Was she insane? Matt leapt to his feet. “I’m going with you.”
Ethan swallowed down a big bite of potato, then gulped half his tea. “Dude, you eat. I’ll go.”
Matt glared. Was the little weasel hoping to see Madison naked? “No.”
The new guy rolled his eyes. “They won’t allow both of us to guard her in the dining room. You’ve had a chance to look the place over, get the lay of the land. She’d be safer with you during dinner. So I’ll have plenty of time to finish stuffing my face and kissing up to Ramona while you shadow Madison.”
Matt crossed his arms over his chest. He might not like Ethan…but the guy wasn’t wrong. “All right.”
He hated watching Ethan hop to his feet and lead Madison away to an unfamiliar corner of the house where he’d safeguard her while she got naked before sliding into a dinner dress and heels. Then again, Matt didn’t have much strength when it came to resisting Madison, so maybe Ethan’s idea was better.
“Where will cocktails be once the Westbrooks arrive?” he asked Ramona.
“In what Mrs. Pershing—Agatha—calls the parlor. It’s just off the dining room. I’ll show you there once the guard at the gate tells me we have company.” Ramona slid Ethan’s plate under the salamander, then retrieved a walkie-talkie and informed someone named Horace to let her know once the Westbrooks passed through the exterior gates.
“Thank you.”
She nodded. “I hope you and the flashy kid know what you’re getting into.”
Matt hoped so, too. He’d known these people were rich and powerful, but holy shit. Since they seemingly didn’t do much for it, their wealth was a giant fuck-you to every hardworking American struggling to make ends meet.
Ramona busied herself around the kitchen while Matt chowed down the rest of his incredibly well-cooked dinner. As he finished the last bite, the radio blared with static. After she answered the guard, she guided him to the parlor. And thank god. The house was a fucking maze of hallways behind gargantuan rooms that would make any Architectural Digest connoisseur’s eyes pop.
She left him with a nod. Cynthia and Roger appeared a moment later, dressed for dinner. Their faces were completely blank as they looked through him like he didn’t exist.
Agatha appeared next, now in a gray asymmetrical dress complete with a matching sheer cardigan-shaped wrap and sensible black heels. She sniffed at him and poured herself a scotch before turning to her son and daughter-in-law. “Roger, have a goddamn drink and lighten up.” When a maid entered the room, Agatha pinned her with a stare, pointing to Cynthia. “She’s been drinking since two. No more wine for her until after dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll let the others know.”
“I don’t drink so I can stay on my toes, Mother.” He spit the last word bitterly, as if he cursed it.
“Your glowering isn’t conducive to a cordial gathering. Drink.”
“Nothing is ever good enough for you. If you want me sloppy, fine. Just stop belittling my wife.”
Agatha cast him a withering glance. “Oh, it’s far too late for you to grow a spine, and I assume you’d like to continue living in style and comfort?”
Rage tightened Roger’s face, but he bit his tongue and blanked his expression as his mother handed him a snifter of scotch. He tossed it back in two swallows.
“That’s what I thought,” Agatha drawled. “Though you could be a little more discerning. That scotch was old enough to vote.”
And expensive as fuck.
Matt did his best to blend into the walls while he waited for Madison. When she appeared with Ethan by her side, he had to catch his goddamn breath. She always looked beautiful to him, but…wow. Tonight, she was a goddess.
The top of the burgundy-red cocktail dress wrapped around her neck like a collar. The rest of the sleeveless bodice hugged her tits as if it had been hand-stitched to show them off. The silky fabric gathered at her small waist. The tulip skirt flirted with her thighs inches above her knees and made her legs look miles long. She wore a pair of silver stilettos that screamed “fuck me.” They matched her ostentatious wedding ring and the ornate dangling earrings that winked in the room’s sedate lighting. She’d arranged her hair in a loose bun and painted her lips with a dark, vampy gloss that echoed her dress. And when she turned to pour herself a glass of wine from the sideboard, Matt nearly swallowed his tongue. The fucking dress was backless and showed off her pearly satin skin.