Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71701 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
This is for show. I get the real Mercedes.
But I find it hard nonetheless to greet him as he comes to shake my hand and thank me for the invitation.
Clifton Phillips is twenty-four years old. Younger than Mercedes. He’s the firstborn of three Phillips sons. He comes from a Founding Family, although their fortunes have declined over the last decade or so. They still have money, but it’s nothing to the De La Rosa or Montgomery fortunes. I wonder how much that has to do with the attention and compliments he pours over Mercedes. Her inheritance would bolster the Phillips’s. Give him a nice cushion.
I put that thought aside. Mercedes is smart. She has her own agenda with Clifton, and of the two of them, I know he’s the one I should worry about. As I sip my scotch, I consider how good my invitation to Clifton will look. As Mercedes’s guardian, I have invited this man into my home to court her. I already mentioned it to my mother so I can be sure news will travel to Hildebrand and throughout The Society. It should at least dispel some of the rumors circulating about us.
The two of them share a private joke, and I catch the seductive way Mercedes has of looking at men. She casts that thick-lashed glance at me while setting her hand on Clifton’s knee. I know I am her target. I swallow a little more scotch, my hand a jealous fist around the crystal. “I believe dinner is ready,” I say, gesturing to the dining room.
“Your home is beautiful, Judge,” Clifton says as Mercedes shimmies her sweet round ass ahead of us. I catch Clifton’s too eager gaze on it even as he speaks to me.
I wait to respond, and when he realizes I’ve caught him, he clears his throat, face flushing with embarrassment. “Thank you, Clifton.” I set my hand on his shoulder a little too heavily. “She is lovely, isn’t she? Hard not to look. But she is a Society daughter. And I don’t want to see your eyes on her ass again, am I clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sir. Christ. What a fucking pussy.
“Coming?” Mercedes asks from the entrance to the dining room.
I pat Clifton’s back hard enough that he jerks forward.
Mercedes gives me a look as he passes her into the dining room.
I shrug a shoulder and take my place at the head of the table. I’ve set Mercedes to my right. Clifton is at the foot.
“You know what? I’ll move down here with you,” Mercedes tells Clifton, asking Lois to reset her place beside Clifton’s. Lois looks at me, and I reluctantly nod. Although I admit it was childish to set him there. Like putting him at the kid’s table.
The table seats a dozen, and I watch the two of them talk at the far end, only including me in bits and pieces of conversation. Clifton is clearly uncomfortable with the attention Mercedes is bestowing upon him. Between leaning her breasts to practically rest on the table and her hand disappearing beneath it to, I’m sure, his knee and it had better only be his fucking knee, he keeps glancing my way, face flushing with a combination of too much wine and a healthy fear of me.
“So Clifton,” I say, putting my knife and fork down once I’m finished with the main course. I notice Mercedes hasn’t eaten much. Is she trying to impress him? Or did I misread her, and she’s fucking nervous around this idiot? She also hasn’t touched her wine.
“Yes, sir,” Clifton says.
“How is school going? You’re still on track to graduate this year?” Clifton is studying law, and from what I’ve learned, he’s nowhere near the top of his class, but he is very popular socially. I get it. He’s good looking. And likes to party. I wonder if Mercedes is aware of how much.
“Yes, Judge. I’ll be joining the family firm upon graduation. Perhaps you’ll see me in your courtroom someday soon.”
Oh, joy. “Well, I’m sure your father is very proud of you.”
“He is. And now that I’m readying to enter the next phase of life.” He turns to Mercedes, and when his hand disappears beneath the table, it makes my own clench. “Well, let’s just say I’m very glad to have run into Mercedes at the party.”
“You know, Judge, Clifton and I were at a joint summer camp back when we were kids,” Mercedes says. “Remember that?” she asks Clifton, setting her elbow on the table and turning her head so her hair forms a curtain between us. It’s done to exclude me. I will remember it once he leaves.
He points at her, mouth going from an O to a wide grin as he remembers. “The canoe incident. That was you, wasn’t it? We all suspected.”
Mercedes sits back in her chair, opens her arms wide, and takes a small bow with a tilt of her head.