Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 76759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76759 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Are you kidding me?”
“Alcohol doesn’t help you sleep, Jesse. It may help you pass out, but then you wake up. I want you to get at least eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Ten or twelve would be even better.”
“Fine.”
She hands me a small folder. “Here’s the key to your room. I’ll be keeping an eye on you. I’d better not see anyone go out that door.”
“Like you’d see me all the time.”
“You are allowed to go out at five p.m. for your massage.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’d better see you back in that room no later than six thirty this evening. Then you take your bath, order your dinner from room service. And you’d better be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed tomorrow morning at eight o’clock.”
“Eight o’clock? Rehearsal doesn’t start until one.”
“You’re meeting Brock and me for breakfast at eight in the morning. You’re going to get on London time if it kills me.”
“If it kills you?”
“You think this is fun for me? Watching my big brother fuck up this one opportunity? I’m not going to let that happen.” She curls her hands into fists. “The spa’s on the second floor. Your appointment’s at five.”
I sigh and shove the key card in my pocket. “You already told me that.” I look at my watch. Four o’clock now. I have an hour to kill before my massage. “I’ll go down to the spa now. They probably have a steam room or hot tub or something. It’ll help me relax.”
She smiles. Finally. “Jesse, that is the most coherent thing you’ve said all day.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brianna
“Good afternoon,” the tuxedo-clad butler says to us. He’s tall, with a receding blond hairline, piercing blue eyes, and slightly crooked teeth.
“Hello, Havisham,” Brock says. “Remember me? Brock Steel?”
“Yes, of course I do, sir. Mr. Ainsley is expecting you. Please come in.”
Brock holds his hand out, letting the rest of us go first. “Let me introduce you to my companions. This is Maddie Pike. She’s Rory’s sister. You remember Rory, my fiancée?”
“Yes, of course I do. Lovely woman.”
Maddie holds out her hand. “Great to meet you, Mr. Havisham.”
Havisham doesn’t take her hand, simply bows. “It’s my pleasure, Ms. Pike.”
“And this is my cousin Donny Steel. He’s engaged to Callie, Rory and Maddie’s sister.”
Havisham bows. “Mr. Steel.”
“And this is my cousin Brianna Steel, Donny’s sister.”
“Such a pleasure to meet all of you. Please follow me into the drawing room. Mr. Ainsley will be in shortly.” He walks the length of the grand foyer, and I glance around at the soaring ceilings, intricate moldings, and a sweeping staircase. A few steps later, we enter an elegant living room.
I gape. This place is so…English. The furnishings are dark wood—cherry, I think—and look antique, though I wouldn’t know. The sofas and chairs are upholstered in lavender and blue brocade.
I’ve fallen in love with England already.
Or maybe I’ve just fallen in love with what England has given me so far.
The loss of my virginity to the man I adore.
Who can’t stand the sight of me now.
Nope. Can’t go there. I need to enjoy this experience of afternoon tea. Besides, I don’t want all eyes on me while I’m sniffling.
We all take a seat, and I nearly slide off the silky brocade. I push my feet into the elegant carpet to save face.
Havisham bows. “I’ll go prepare your tea. As I said, Mr. Ainsley will be in shortly.”
“Right behind you, Havisham,” a low voice says.
An elderly gentleman enters the room. He has a shock of silvery-white hair, and he walks upright without the help of a cane. Ennis Ainsley is eighty-eight years old. This gentleman doesn’t look a day over seventy. He wears a blazer with leather patches on the elbows, blue jeans, and brown leather loafers.
“Here you all are,” he says.
Brock stands, walks to him, and shakes his hand. “It’s so good to see you again, Mr. Ainsley.”
“Yes, Brock. You too. Have you forgotten to call me Ennis?”
“As you wish, Ennis.” Brock introduces us all, and Mr. Ainsley comes to me first.
“Goodness, Brianna. You look exactly like your father.”
“That’s the same thing he said to me when we met.” Brock laughs. “About my father.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say.
“As it was meant.” He continues to gaze at me, squinting his eyes. “But my God… No, it’s not Talon you resemble. It’s your grandmother. Daphne Wade.” He widens his eyes then. “I feel like I’ve gone back in time. She was such a beauty.”
I’m not sure what to say. Luckily, he keeps speaking.
“I think you weren’t but two the last time I saw you.”
“That would’ve been twenty years ago, then,” I say.
“Yes, the timing is about right. Havisham will be in with the tea in a moment.”
Less than thirty seconds pass before Havisham comes back, pulling a trolley along.
“I asked Havisham to prepare two types of tea today.” He gestures to two ornate porcelain teapots, both depicting what I assume are English landscapes. “I of course prefer a basic black afternoon tea. I didn’t know if all of you are tea drinkers, so he also prepared a nice herbal infusion of hibiscus and chamomile as well. Ladies first, of course.”