Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“You are everything I knew you’d be, Little Bride.” His husky tone wraps around me, squeezing my lungs. “The password is my name.”
He hangs up and I try really hard not to squeal, his words sending waves of satisfaction through me. I feel like I’m being petted or praised and okay, maybe that shouldn’t be so enticing, but what the fuck do I care. It is. It is and it makes me want to please him more.
Apparently, he feels the same, as the next thing Grandma hands me is a black Amex, right as a text pops up on the screen of my new cell phone, his number already programmed.
Husband: There is no limit and the car is waiting with Mino behind the wheel. Don’t speak to him and do your worst. That’s an order.
Now that’s one “order” I won’t argue with.
I turn to Grandma. “You’ll come with me, right?”
“I have a better question.” Grandma steps in close, whispering into my ear, “What is it that girl thinks she knows and suspects you don’t want your fiancé to find out?”
Chapter
Twenty
Boston
“How does she know this?” Grandma asks.
“That Philip wants to steal me away from my fiancé and claim me as his own?” I shrug. “How should I know? I only found out the other night. Maybe she hired a PI.”
“I can hear your mind running, dear. Spit it out.”
I hold back a moment, deciding it can’t hurt to mention it. “My father and Mr. Mitchell were speaking at the fundraiser the other night. He mentioned something about a new business endeavor.”
“What did Mr. Fikile have to say about that?”
My silence has her looking up, her hands pausing on the tissue paper. “You do realize you must tell him, just in case.”
I lean against the shelving, watching as she lifts the silky green robe from its box. “Is that your way of saying you will if I don’t?”
“Despite what you may believe, Miss Revenaw, I’m not here as a spy.”
“The three-month supply of birth control sitting in a pile of ash in the fireplace says differently.”
“Yes, well.” She takes a step back, staring at the robe on the hook she hung it on, only to pull it back down. “The three-month supply hidden in your purple Louis duffle says otherwise.”
My eyes snap to hers and she simply stares me down before looking away. “This should be worn, not hung.” She sets it out over the small, round ottoman. “And no, this is not for me to tell. You will need to, though, especially if there is an issue we’ve yet to understand.”
“Enzo knew before I did that Philip’s family was angry with my dad for his refusal of even allowing a conversation about an arranged marriage,” I say as I stand, stripping off the pajamas I put on after my shower and tying the robe over me instead. “I guarantee he knows more about the Mitchells than I do.” I step in front of the mirror, admiring the piece all over again.
It looks even better than it did in the store this afternoon.
“And if he doesn’t, he will after you tell him, likely before your visitors.”
Spinning, I lean against the mirror, crossing my arms, and ask the question I’ve been wondering all day. “Why did he allow them past the guards?”
“For you.” My head tugs back and she rolls her eyes. “When you came to Mr. Fikile, it was widely rumored he was after your father’s position. Now, you’re engaged, and that position belongs to Mr. Bishop. Trusting him around you, if you could call it that being every guard on payroll was hidden around the grounds hours before their arrival, was to show you what your impending union means to him. And before you make some sort of joke, let me assure you, the sentiment is unmatched.”
Trusting him around me…
A thought hits me then, and I glare at the diamond studded heels she picked today that I have no intentions of ever stepping into. “Do you know who Nicholas Galley is?”
Grandma stills for a single second, then continues unboxing the items she refuses to let me help with. “I do.”
My eyes narrow and I step beside her. “At the club, after Enzo—”
“Was blinded by possessiveness and pulled an Enzo?” she offers.
A smile tugs at my lips, and I nod. “Yes, that. Nicholas called him boss. Does he work for Enzo?”
“Mr. Fikile employs many people.”
“What was he hired for exactly?”
“Mr. Fikile employs many people for many things.”
“Grandma!”
“I despise that name,” she mumbles, finally facing me. “Has Mr. Fikile ever required the particular services the Galleys provide, yes.” She tips her head, pinning me with a very mother-like expression. “Judging by your line of questioning and the look in your eye, he’s worked for you too, something you may need to discuss with your fiancé.”