Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 206(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
May makes a hrmph noise. “We had a long conversation about the requirements of my cousin Prince Danali, one of our most honored guests. She said we’d have a separate halal menu for all the royals.”
His eyes widen. “Prince Danali?”
“Did my darling stutter?” I sneer at him. “If this venue isn’t able to provide the necessary amenities and security, we’ll happily take our nuptials elsewhere. I hear Pembroke Country Club is quite up-and-coming.”
“No!” He drops his phone onto the desk. “Not at all. We have what you need here, I can assure you. Unfortunately, Ms. Linklater has recently left our employ, but I’m happy to give you a tour of the club. Here’s my card.” He hands me a silver-embossed card with Grinsley Archibald written in swirling script. I look at it like it has the plague.
Sidney Linklater is on maternity leave, from my quick research on this place. But something tells me this asshole may have fired her when she took time off.
“We’ll have a look around for ourselves. If the venue meets our satisfaction, I’ll call for you. If it doesn’t …” I let my unpleasant tone linger as I turn away from the desk.
“The, ah, the sitting rooms are just ahead of you there, Mr. —oh my, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.”
May snaps her head around to him. “Don’t you know who he is?” she hisses.
“Well, I-I-I’m–”
“Tortie Shorthair, the CEO of Felinity, a top Fortune 500. Have you been living in a cave?”
“No, of course not, ma’am. I just–”
“You’ve done enough.” She turns her head back forward, her lips pressed together to stop a smile as I march her away from the flustered asshole behind us.
We walk down a short hallway, then take a left. As soon as we’re out of view, she grabs my hand and squeezes it. “We did it!”
“You played it perfectly.”
She practically purrs under my praise. “Thank you. I just, I don’t know, I felt the vibe, and I ran with it. Maybe I’m cut out for the rich, fancy life.”
“You are. You deserve everything you want and more, May.”
She looks up at me, her eyes sparkling, and I feel another surge of heat. In my veins, and in my heart. God, she’s beautiful.
“Come on. Let’s get the intel.” She cocks her head toward the sound of voices.
We ease along the hallway until we come to a room with male voices inside. She listens at the door, then makes a face.
“Hmm?” I ask, keeping watch for anyone coming down the hall.
“They’re talking about their affairs. Gross.”
“Let’s keep moving.” I pull her farther along, deeper into the morass of money and privilege, until we come to another salon. Women’s voices ring from inside, and May doesn’t have to press her ear to the door to hear them. They’re discussing one of their daughters’ weddings, something about how the bridesmaid had been sleeping with the groom, but the money was too good for the bride to walk away.
May wrinkles her nose. “Nothing’s worth that.”
“Worth what?” I whisper.
“Your dignity.”
“Fair.” I nod.
She pulls herself up and gives me a hard look. “I’m going in.”
I take her elbow. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. What are you going to say?”
She shrugs, and before I can stop her, she pushes her way into the room. I back away quickly before the women inside see me lingering.
The room goes quiet.
“Excuse me, I was looking for my cat.”
Someone laughs.
Another woman asks, “A cat?”
“Yes. He’s a show cat, you see. A beautiful Birman. Mr. Archibald was going to purchase him, but he ran off. Have you seen him?”
“No, we haven’t seen a cat.”
“Ugh, this reminds me of that dreadful woman. What’s her name?”
“Farrol?” an older woman, her voice cracking with age, offers.
“Yes. Her and her obsession with cats. I can’t believe they haven’t redone the Farrol room by now. She must’ve donated half her fortune to keep it this long.”
“The Farrol room?” May asks.
“She’s a crazy cat lady,” another woman pipes up. “Used to come here quite often. Won several best in shows or whatever it’s called. Embarrassing, really, to be exhibiting cats. Dogs are so much more wholesome and beautiful. One dog is worth a thousand cats. In fact, I think–”
“What does it feel like to be this wrong about something?” May’s voice shakes.
“Excuse me?” The woman’s voice rises an octave.
“Cats are everything. They have personality. They have desires and thoughts and ideas. Dogs only want to please you. They cater to you. Cats–you have to earn their respect and their love, but I see you don’t have the chance of earning either. I’m done here. I’ll find my cat on my own.” May reappears and slams the door behind her.
The women inside are silent for a few beats, then one of them says, “Did I just have a stroke or did some strange woman come in here and lecture me about cats?”