Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Not if I can find my way out of this situation by then.
Grace adds, “By the way, our mom will give you a whole talk about dealing with the media. Any new love interest gets the speech. Don’t let it scare you. I mean, it’s a serious thing so do take what she says seriously but don’t let it scare you. She can be dramatic.”
We pull up to an impressive estate behind gates that open with a remote Derek has on his visor. I’m about to ask why there is a valet if there are only immediate family members expected, and those family members have remotes to get in, but don’t bother. It’s not like I’m truly interested in the family dynamics anyway. My goal is to figure out who to talk to and go from there.
After a valet takes Derek’s car, we’re greeted by a smiling man opening the front door and guiding us inside. I quickly realize that wealth at this level is not something I’m accustomed to.
“Carson,” Derek greets the man who welcomes us in.
“Mr. Steele,” the man greets, then his face warms as he looks at Grace. “Miss Steele. Lovely as always.”
She kisses his cheek with a flourish.
“This is Chloe Turner,” Derek says. “Chloe, my parents’ estate manager, Devlin Carson. He oversees a whole lot of day-to-day including all their residential properties.”
“Miss Turner,” the man of upper sixties, perhaps, greets. He’s tall, slender, and wearing a stylish suit. He has a head of thick, white hair but a dark mustache and a mostly white beard. His smile is almost disarming, and I find myself attempting to stammer something polite in return as he takes our coats and hands them off to an older woman in white blouse and black dress pants.
“Are we the first to arrive, Carson?” Grace asks.
“You’re the final guests to arrive, Miss Steele. Your family waits in the solarium where brunch will be served. Follow me.” He walks ahead of us, leading the way as if Grace and Derek don’t know where this solarium is in their parents’ house.
This place is practically dripping with money. Beautiful art adorns the cream walls of the foyer. There are gold and red accents everywhere. It feels palatial. And while I can appreciate the incredible architectural details and how the rugs from the front door to where we’ve walked to alone probably cost more than the house I bought with Adam, it’s also a kind of disgusting display of wealth. It feels like we’re being led toward royalty as we stroll past expensive sculptures along art-lined halls.
“This is the original homestead,” Grace cheerily advises as if it’s got a homey feel instead of a museum-feel. “Bought for them by my grandfather when they got married. They have six other residences in various places. Daddy went from rich to disgustingly rich, but wanted to maintain this as home base. We grew up here and this is where we spent most of our time when we weren’t in school.”
Her explanation seems like she’s making sure I know they’re too rich for the location. Even though this is the most lavish mansion I’ve ever been in. Not that there have been many, but I had some wealthy friends growing up.
When I see where we’re being led I figure she’s likely given me a heads up so that I’ll realize who I’m dealing with. I see Grace is studying me as I take it all in. We’re in a gorgeous, sundrenched room of people seated at a massive table surrounded by tuxedo-wearing staff.
All eyes swing to us, and everyone rises except for the woman at the foot of the table.
“Hello, family!” Grace greets loudly.
“It’s eleven ten,” the woman who is obviously Mrs. Steele, at the foot of the table, states.
“Happy Anniversary, Maman!” Grace adds in a fake French accent.
Her mother smiles, but it’s tight.
The man at the head of the table steps up and embraces Grace. “Look who’s here. Our littlest princess.” He kisses her, warmth in his eyes, and then those eyes move to land on me. “Derek. This must be the young lady everyone is buzzing about.”
He’s inquired about me to Derek without making eye contact with him. An unpleasant shiver runs up my spine for some reason.
“Everyone, this is Chloe Turner,” Derek announces. He’s still wearing sunglasses, but they’ve transitioned in this space so they’re not quite as dark but still dark enough that I can’t see his eyes to try to gauge his actual expression.
My gaze skims across multiple sets of curious eyes. Some of them dark like Derek’s, some of them steel gray like Grace.
“Chloe, my father, Michael Steele.”
The man reaches out and shakes my hand as the rest of the table other than Derek’s mother move to take turns greeting me.
“Lovely to meet you, Chloe,” Mr. Steele says, eyes looking me over with scrutiny. He’s a handsome man in, I’m guessing, his early sixties. He’s tall, looks fit, and is well-dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit with a gray and red tie. He’s graying at the temples and has dark hair and dark eyes. A chiseled jawline. Derek takes after him in a big way.