Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72648 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
The furniture is also in white, with various couches, chairs, and chaises set in private clusters. Along one wall is a carved desk, also in white, but with gilded gold touches. As I take in more detail, pops of color in the rugs and artwork on the floor stand out, giving it warmth and a homey charm.
But then my attention is drawn to his family members, who are clustered in front of a fireplace with a cheery fire.
Their conversation stops dead when we walk in, and one might think they had been talking about Declan from the way their faces smooth out almost blankly.
My next lesson in the Blackwood family dynamic comes when I realize the lack of joy exhibited by this family when seeing each other for the first time in a long time. When we flew here, Declan told me he doesn’t visit much except during the board meetings.
His mother, I’m assuming out of a sense of politeness, breaks away from the group as Declan steers me toward them. She offers up her cheek to her son, murmuring as he bends to kiss it, “Declan… it’s so good to see you.”
Her voice is cultured, with a slight European accent, and she’s stunningly beautiful. Her blonde hair is in a sleek chignon at the base of her neck, and her facial features are nearly perfect with a Nordic slant. Her eyes are a denim blue, and she turns them my way curiously.
Declan introduces me. “Mother… may I present my assistant, Bailey Robbins.”
Then to me, Declan says, “Miss Robbins… my mother, Helena Blackwood.”
“Charmed,” she says, offering me a finely boned hand I’m almost afraid to shake.
“It’s an honor to meet you,” I say, giving a tiny bob of my head. “Thank you for having me.”
At that, Declan’s mother shoots him a frosty, but quick glance before saying to me. “It’s our pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me… I need to pop into the kitchen. I think everything should be ready to serve now that all the guests are here.”
Interesting. She refers to her son as a guest instead of as family.
As Helena leaves, Declan manages to introduce me to the others. His father, Alexander, whom I had met briefly on the first day, but it’s clear he doesn’t remember and seems confused to find me with his son.
His sister, Marissa Blackwood Gibbons, is an exact replica of her mother, and she’s as chilly toward Declan as everyone else. There’s an air kiss to her cheek as well, and Declan inquires as to where her husband is.
She gives a dismissive wave. “He’s on call tonight.”
Declan murmurs low in his throat as if he understands, but no one bothers to explain to me precisely what the husband does. I would guess doctor, but, at this point, I’m so confounded by this family I have no clue.
An awkward silence ensues but is thankfully cut short by Helena announcing, “Dinner is ready. If everyone will proceed into the formal dining room.”
The formal dining room? Which implies there’s an informal dining room. This doesn’t surprise me given the house’s grandeur, but I suppose it surprises me that we’ll be eating formally with just five people, all of whom are blood relatives except for me.
I can firmly say rich people are just weird.
Still, I consider it an experience, and I have moments of overwhelming awe as I take in the opulence of the place. We move past a music room with a black-and-white harlequin tiled floor and a beautiful piano in the middle of it. The formal dining room is exquisite with a crystal chandelier over the table so massive, I’m actually nervous to sit under it. The table is long, seating—upon quick count—thirty-two with a glorious arrangement of fresh flowers in the center at least three feet in diameter and just as high.
All the place settings are thankfully at one end, and there’s a lot of gleaming china and crystal twinkling, making me far more nervous than the chandelier. I’m terrified of breaking something.
Alexander moves to the end of the table, taking the head chair. Pointing at the other chairs, Helena directs us where to sit. She places herself on one side of her husband and her daughter on the other. Declan is next to her, and she orders me to the chair beside Marissa, directly across from Declan.
Not quite sure of my expression, but my anxiousness calms slightly when Declan gives me a reassuring smile before taking his seat. I slowly lower down beside his sister, who has so far ignored me since our introduction.
A swinging door opens, and my mouth gapes as five dressed waitstaff, complete with white gloves, serve the first course—a French onion soup. Another person enters with a bottle of sparkling water to top off crystal glasses, and another comes in with choices of red and white wines.