Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
As she instructed the head of the waiting staff to serve the desserts, Mary heard more clicking sounds from Saffi’s phone, making her rockstar husband groan. “Not another fucking photo.”
The words made Mary smile as she faced the others. Sometimes, it still felt so surreal to find herself friends with such amazing people. Even Saffi herself was famous in her own right, being the only daughter of Senator Samuel March and a descendant of the Beaufort family.
“Sorry,” Mary heard Saffi apologizing with a sheepish grin. “I can’t help it. I just have to...” Click.
Saffi’s head bowed as her fingers flew on the screen of her iPhone. “Done,” she exclaimed several moments later.
Mary’s phone beeped, and she tried her best to stifle her laugh when she realized what it was. Clicking on the notification, she was taken to Saffi’s tweet. Her friend had shared the photo with her followers, and Mary read the caption out loud. “The Three Pussketeers’ last night in London. Say it with me: They. Are. So. Gorg.”
This time, all three Pussketeers groaned, with Staffan, Rathe, and Constantijin Kastein, who was also known as Netherlands’ #1 Playboy and an infamously ruthless business tycoon, turning to Saffi with exasperation in their gazes.
Saffi flashed them a peace sign, mumbling, “Umm...don’t get mad. Coz...I’m...umm...pregnant?”
The excuse worked, the groans abruptly coming to a stop.
“Your wife is too smart,” Constantijin remarked to Staffan with a resigned shake of his head.
Rathe nodded in agreement.
Pulling Saffi gently onto his lap, Staffan warned her half-seriously, “Make that the last photo, though. Contrary to what you think, the world can get enough of us.”
“No one can ever get enough of you,” his young wife countered loyally.
Her heart twinged at the exchange between Staffan and Saffi. She was happy, really happy for the two of them. But at the same time, she couldn’t help comparing their relationship with hers and Rathe—-
It didn’t make her feel sad.
But it did make her feel scared.
No matter how much she wanted to deny the truth, the fear was there. A part of her was still terrified the day that Rathe falling in love her would never come.
“Hey.”
Startled, Mary turned her head to find Yanna, wife to Constantijin, standing next to her. An attractive brunette, Yanna was a confident woman in her mid-twenties, with a cheeky sense of humor that never failed to set everyone laughing.
Mary asked, “Is there s-something I c-could do for you?”
Yanna quickly shook her head. “Oh, no, no. I just thought we hadn’t much time to chat, the two of us.” Aware of how shy the younger girl was, Yanna chose her next words carefully. “So...how are you finding England so far?”
“It’s...different, but it’s also nice. Much cooler than F-florida, which I like.”
Yanna wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, it can get really humid back home. I totally don’t miss that.”
Seeing that Mary was once again gazing at Saffi and Staffan, Yanna said lightly, “You know, next year, it could be our turn.” When Mary gazed at her questioningly, she added, “Becoming expectant I mean.”
“Oh.” The younger girl’s smile dimmed. “I d-don’t think that’s possible for me.”
“Why not?” Yanna asked bluntly.
“Because...” Mary bit her lip. “We don’t h-have that kind of relationship.”
Yanna paused for a moment. Constantijin had always accused her of blurting out her thoughts and that was one thing she didn’t want to do now. Mary seemed so young and gentle, she just didn’t want to risk hurting the other girl unintentionally with what she was about to say.
“I know it’s less than perfect between you guys now, but you have to believe me when I tell you...” Yanna impulsively squeezed Saffi’s hand. “I have never seen Rathe happier than when he’s with you.”
Mary’s eyes widened.
“It’s true,” Yanna insisted. “Normally, he’s like...he’s like a robot with an English accent.”
Mary choked.
“You know how dreadfully polite he can sound.” Yanna began to mimic Rathe’s ducal tones. “Is that so? Just a tad, mayhaps? How quaint. Quite frankly, my dear, you’re fucking ugly.”
Mary gasped. “He couldn’t have said the last!”
Yanna grinned. “You’re right, he didn’t, but if he did...”
They both burst into laughter.
“He’d totally sound like that, right?”
Mary nodded, still doubled over. When her laughter died, she saw that Yanna was still smiling at her, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Her own smile faded. “W-what is it?”
“I really don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to tell you it straight.” Yanna took a deep breath. “Since I work in marketing, I tend to be one of the first to hear...stuff. And the thing is, and this is really unverified – for now – but...”
When Yanna paused again, Mary said uneasily, “You’re m-making me more worried.”
“It’s still unverified, okay?” An unhappy expression appeared on the older woman’s face. “But...I think...there’s someone really close to Rathe doing his or her best to turn everyone against you.” A disapproving note entered Yanna’s voice. “I don’t know who it is yet, but I’m doing my best to find out. All I know for now is that whoever it is, this person has access to the most private stuff about Rathe’s life and it’s making all the stupid rumors about you sound so true.”