Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
This was confusing, specifically York, considering that city was very close to Duncroft. An easy day drive if you had business there.
“Does he need to go to those places very often?”
“He did if he wanted to fuck the mistresses he kept in them.”
Oh boy.
“Ian,” I said softly.
“Obviously, I explained to Dad that Mum should not be asked to cut costs when such other costs could be more easily, and discreetly, cut,” he spoke over me. “So Dad told his special friends he’d be unable to provide for them in the manner in which they’d become accustomed. They took their esteemed services elsewhere.”
Listening to his words, something occurred to me.
“Do you keep an eye on your father?”
He nodded. “Though, I don’t have an army of men in Inverness capes and deerstalkers following them around,” he joked, and I laughed.
When I was done, he went on.
“But I do keep a finger on the pulse, as non-invasively as possible. Dad. To a lesser extent, Daniel. It’s unnecessary with Mum.” His gaze suddenly grew sharp on my own. “I think we both know how other people’s peccadillos can be annoying to put up with. If I know in advance some shit Danny pulled is going to bite me in the ass, I can deal with it.”
“Smart,” I said.
Sad, but smart.
“I left things with Chelsea as best they could be,” he shared. “We’d known each other since we were kids. She had high hopes. It didn’t work out. I can’t say Danny left things on the same footing.”
“Great,” I mumbled.
“Chelsea will be fine, at least to me, you, Lou. She might have a few digs to get in if Danny shows. And beware, if she scents she can draw blood from a weaker creature, she’ll go after Portia.”
I stood, which put me very close to him. “I’ll not be able to allow that to happen.”
“I’ll run interference,” he promised, sliding his eyes down my dress, which was blood red, form-fitting, fell to mid-calf, had a high neck, long, fitted sleeves, some shoulder pads, and some angular pleating that helped it fit perfectly to my curves and gave the material interest. It also had a cutout at the side waist that showed skin, front and back. “Poor girl,” he said, as if he was talking to the dress. And with his next, I’d find he was. “It’s simply that the two that came before you were so stellar that you’re ranking third on my favorites list.”
I burst out laughing and Ian smiled at me when I did it.
His smile was warm and open and beautiful, just because it was, but more because he was so obviously enjoying the fact he’d made me laugh.
It was a perfect moment, I felt it in an instant. An absolutely perfect moment in our otherwise decidedly imperfect lives.
It was the kind of moment you lived for. It was the kind of moment that was one of the last beautiful things you remembered before you died.
It was everything.
And then the door flew open.
Instinctively, Ian stepped in front of me, which was entirely unnecessary, and absurdly attractive.
“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.”
I leaned to the side to see around Ian because that voice was Portia’s.
Her eyes were darting between the two of us and there was something very wrong in her expression.
She wasn’t upset, or mad.
She was enraged.
As one might be, when they were threatened with losing one hundred billion dollars if they didn’t shape up.
But my sister knew me.
She knew I’d never hang her out to dry.
I didn’t do it when she was fifteen and I caught her in my bathroom snorting coke.
I didn’t do it when I learned where she got the coke and how much danger she put herself in to get it.
I didn’t do it when Lou donned that Oscar de la Renta dress that was specifically made for her and found one of the straps had been snipped and poorly stitched together to hide it until it was put on, then it broke loose, making the dress unwearable. This, so that at the very last second, for an important event, Lou had to dig in her wardrobe to find something else to wear and redo her hair and makeup in order to wear it.
Needless to say, Portia had been the one to snip and stitch.
And further, I didn’t when I found her out after she went on a tear of eBaying Dad’s very expensive stuff when he got pissed at her and cut off her allowance.
The list went on.
In other words, I didn’t the many times she deserved it.
Including now, when she’d lured Lou and I away from our homes and lives and then left us with people who didn’t like us (save Ian, but when she left, she didn’t know we’d make friends with Ian (or with their history, did she?)).