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)
“Hi Brad,” I said, as we shook hands like a pair of business associates. “Good to see you.”
“You, too. It’s been a while.”
It really had. A little over a year, as a matter of fact. The last time we’d seen each other, he’d been visiting New York, and we’d met for dinner and had a fight about money. I was nothing but an ATM machine to him, especially after he blew through his trust fund in less than two years. The only time he ever returned my calls or asked to see me was when he wanted more money, and I’d finally put my foot down.
We both took a moment to study each other. Brad was twenty-seven, but he looked like he was in his mid-thirties. I wasn’t sure why that was. The suit? The permanent frown? Even now, the line between his brows was deepening as he took in my black jeans and oversized cardigan. I’d heard from other people that he claimed to admire me, but I’d never seen anything but judgement in his cool gaze.
He asked, “Has Felix arrived yet?”
“No. He’s getting in soon, though.”
“That’s good. I’m hoping for a chance to speak to him.”
“You’re coming to dinner tonight, aren’t you? There’s a cocktail hour beforehand, so you should have a chance to chat.”
“Yes, but I want to talk to him in private. You, too,” he said.
“About anything in particular?”
“My boyfriend Frederick and I are making plans to take our ad agency global. It’s an incredible investment opportunity, which promises huge returns.”
I had to fight back a sigh. Everything came back to money with him. “I’d maybe hold off on asking Felix to invest in your business. This is his wedding weekend, and the moment he arrives, a lot of people are going to need his time and attention. His bride, for one.”
“No, I know. I only need fifteen minutes from each of you. In fact, do you want to grab a coffee? Frederick’s around here somewhere, and we prepared a quick presentation. We could—”
“Sorry, I can’t. My boyfriend’s expecting me.” Calling him my boyfriend was a bit premature, but it let Brad know it was someone who mattered to me.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were seeing someone.”
“I am. He’s—”
Fucking hell.
I’d actually forgotten for a moment! He knew exactly who Daniel was, because they’d dated for almost a year.
Brad grinned. “You alright, Malcolm? You didn’t have a stroke, did you?”
I went with the first excuse I could think of for suddenly falling silent. “I just remembered there’s something I need to do. Joy’s wedding planner quit on her at the last minute, and there was a problem with the venue, so we’ve been pitching in.”
“Did Aunt Joy go full Bridezilla on the wedding planner? She did, didn’t she? It’s no surprise. She can be a real b—”
“Like I said, someone’s expecting me. I’ll talk to you later, Brad.”
As I turned and walked away, I couldn’t help but feel annoyed. Like always, I was nothing to him but a cash cow. The fact that he was trying to use my soon-to-be brother-in-law the same way was doubly frustrating.
What had Daniel seen in him? And why had he been upset enough when it ended to seek me out with revenge in mind? I assumed whatever he had planned was still happening this weekend, and I was dying to know how it was going to go down.
Was he really going to let me walk into this blindly, springing the news he’d dated Brad on me in the same instant he sprung our relationship on Brad? It seemed like it, since he’d had two weeks to let me in on the plan, but he hadn’t said a word.
It probably wouldn’t go like he’d hoped, though. Knowing Brad, he’d find a way to throw it back in his face, and Daniel would get hurt all over again.
I needed to take control of this situation. But first, I had to gather some information.
The banquet room was almost empty when I returned to it, apart from the four huge arrangements for the tops of the server stations. I called Daniel’s name, and he replied, “Back here.”
He was sitting cross-legged on the floor behind one of the arrangements, poking at the ceramic vase with a goopy fingertip. When I asked what he was doing, he explained, “This has a chip in its surface. I’m filling it in with toothpaste, and once it dries, I’m going to try to tint it to match the dark red glaze. I’m not sure what to use, though. Tomato paste, maybe? There’s probably some in the kitchen. It would start out too bright, but I bet it’d dry darker.”
“How about nail polish? Joy probably has that exact color in her cosmetic bag.”
“We can’t tell her something’s less than perfect. She might get upset.”