Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
For lack of any better ideas, I took off my jacket and tied it around my waist. This wasn’t much of a solution, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t very well stroll into that fancy party with my ass hanging out.
After taking a moment to compose myself and catch my breath, I straightened my posture. Then I tried to look confident as I strode across the yard and went inside through a back door. I ended up in the kitchen, where several people were hard at work. They barely glanced at me as I hurried across the room and out another door.
Finally, I entered the main part of the house. The party was in full swing, and I scanned the crowd. The guests were mostly in their forties to sixties, and obviously wealthy. There were a few familiar faces—a local politician, a TV news anchor, a mediocre actor who’d been big about ten years ago. Bay Area famous was a lot different than LA famous. As lackluster as they were, this was basically the cream of the crop, as far as local celebrities over forty went.
I didn’t spot Malcolm Sterling, so I kept moving. Suddenly, Whitman Brenner—owner of this pretentious home, host of the party, and Instagram over-sharer—stepped into my path. He narrowed his eyes and snapped, “I don’t know you.”
Since I’d been deep-diving his social media all week while looking for information on Malcolm, I was ready for this. I flashed him a smile and said, “Sure you do, Whit. Let me think, when was the last time we saw each other? Was it at Cheryl Hindman’s wedding? No, wait. I think it was at the Feinberg Gallery, during their charity auction.”
That temporarily threw him for a loop, since he’d attended both of those events. But then he scowled and told me, “I never forget a face, and like I said, I don’t know you.”
“No, not well, but we’ve met on more than one occasion.” I was trying to hold my ground and sound confident, but people around us were starting to pay attention. It felt like this whole situation was on the brink of spiraling out of control.
Brenner lowered his voice and glared at me. “You’re not on the guest list. I know that for a fact. I’ll thank you not to make a scene on your way out.”
He started to reach for my arm, as if he intended to physically remove me from the party. I took a quick step back and bumped into someone directly behind me, who put a hand on my shoulder.
When I turned around, my breath caught. Malcolm Sterling’s warm, brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he met my gaze and said, “There you are, darling. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
3
Malcolm
Why the hell had I agreed to let Whitman Brenner throw a party for me? Sure, our families had been friends since before we were born, but he was an asshole. This party wasn’t about welcoming me back to the Bay Area. It was about trying to impress his social circle by trotting me out and putting me on display.
A glance at my watch told me I’d been here for forty-three minutes. I’d decided to give it an hour, but I really didn’t think I was going to make it, even though the last twenty minutes had been spent hiding upstairs in the library.
Actually, it was more of a “library.” While it contained shelves full of books, the whole thing felt like a movie set. Since all the book spines were beige or tan, they seemed like props selected to match the earth-toned color scheme. They also crackled when I opened them, suggesting I was the first person who’d ever thought to do that. Whit wanted people to think he was well-read, in the same way he wanted to seem interesting because of the company he kept, but it was all for show.
Parts of me were starting to go numb, so I shifted around on the narrow window seat. That was another reason this room was clearly a sham—the lack of comfortable seating. Libraries should include cushy, overstuffed chairs, so you could get lost in a book for hours without fear of your butt cramping up.
When I glanced at my watch again, only a minute had passed. Screw trying to endure this for a full hour. Whit would be offended that I was leaving early, but he’d get over it.
Just then, some kind of movement outside caught my eye, so I leaned over and shut off the light. Without its reflection on the glass, it was easier to see what was happening in the well-lit back yard.
There it was again. This time, I saw what it was—a blond head appeared and disappeared behind the fence. A nosy neighbor, maybe? But there wasn’t another house behind this one, so I didn’t know why they’d be trying to spy on the party from that vantage point.