Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Yeah.” I tugged at my collar with my free hand.
“Stop fussing. You look perfect. I love that navy suit on you. And your blue tie matches your eyes.”
“Thanks.”
“But you just made it crooked. Let me fix it.” She faced me and straightened my tie with both hands, gently putting the knot back in place without making it too tight. “How’s that feel?”
“Good.” Our eyes met, and my heart thumped even harder.
“Next up,” the bartender said, breaking the spell. “What can I get you?”
We ordered drinks—a Manhattan for me, a vodka and soda for her—and took them over to a small table set apart from the buffet. “This is mine,” she said, gesturing to the platters of appetizers and a stack of business cards. “We can just stay over here, away from the crowd.”
“Okay.” Taking a sip of my cocktail, I indulged in an old habit—immediately locating the nearest exit and planning my escape route in case I had to leave fast.
While Felicity fussed with the display of food on the table, I recalled something a therapist once told me about using body language to exude dominance and control. Power posing, it was called. You sort of stood and moved like you had a fuck ton of confidence, and the idea was that not only could you fool others, but you could fool yourself.
It sounded like bullshit, and I fired her.
But just in case she was right, I decided to assume a more cocksure stance. That was a word I liked—cocksure. I widened my feet. Puffed up my chest. Scowled a bit, like anyone who came near me had better have a damn good reason to approach.
“Well, well. Look who showed up.” A woman in a black dress with long blond hair and a stocky, dark-haired guy in a suit sauntered up to the table. The woman looked vaguely familiar, but even if she hadn’t, she was giving off a scornful, superior air that broadcast exactly who she was.
“Mimi.” Immediately, Felicity set her drink down and slipped her arm through mine. “You remember Hutton.”
“Not like this.” Mimi laughed as her eyes darted over my hair, my suit, my shoes. Then she held out a hand. “Nice to see you again.”
I didn’t want to touch her, but I took the hand she offered—it was cool and reptilian. “Hi.”
“From band geek to billionaire,” she said with a laugh. “Who’d have thought?”
“Me,” said Felicity. “I always knew he’d be a huge success. He’s brilliant.”
“This is Thornton Van Pelt, my fiancé,” said Mimi, giving her tone a slightly combative edge, as if getting engaged was a competitive sport.
“Good to meet you,” said Thornton, looking bored.
“We’re planning a June twentieth wedding, next year.” Mimi took the lead with a declaration of a date. “What about you?”
“This year.” Felicity pressed tighter to my side. “Next month.”
“Next month?” Mimi’s jaw dropped. “August?”
“Yes.” Felicity looked at me adoringly. “We just can’t wait.”
I had no idea if I was supposed to reply or not, or what I would say if I did.
Thankfully, Mimi kept going. “I’m just surprised I haven’t heard the news, what with Hutton being so famous and all,” she said.
“We’re very private,” said Felicity. “We didn’t announce it.”
“When did it happen?” Mimi asked.
“Weeks ago,” Felicity replied. “After he moved back.”
“Really.” Mimi looked back and forth between us. “That’s sort of sudden.”
“Well, we’ve practically been best friends since we were twelve,” said Felicity.
“But you were dating Zlatka up until very recently, weren’t you?” Mimi pinned her laser beam eyes on me.
“That’s another reason why we didn’t announce it,” Felicity said, patting my arm. “We didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Right, sweetie?”
I was pretty sure Zlatka didn’t have that many feelings, but I nodded and took another drink, like a cocksure badass would.
“Tell me about your ring,” demanded Mimi.
“Oh, it’s so beautiful,” gushed Felicity. “A diamond solitaire. Really classic and stunning. Hutton has incredible taste.”
“How big is the diamond? Mine is two carats.” She thrust her hand out.
“Mine’s three,” said Felicity quickly. “And the diamond is conflict-free. Ethically sourced.”
Mimi looked pissed. “Cut?”
“Round.”
“Band?”
“Platinum.”
“Color and clarity?”
That one threw her, and she fumbled. “Color and what?”
“Clarity.” Mimi snapped her fingers twice. “Keep up.”
“Uh, I forget,” Felicity mumbled.
“You forget the color and clarity of your diamond?” Mimi’s eyes narrowed, and beside me, I felt Felicity stiffen.
“F and VVS one,” I said, recalling Wade’s incessant rants about the ungodly expensive ring his then-girlfriend had wanted—probably to get back at him for all the cheating.
All three of them looked sharply at me.
“F and VVS one?” Mimi repeated. “Did you hear that, Thornton?”
Thornton checked his watch. “Yeah. Isn’t that what you have?”
“No,” she said, giving him the side eye. “It isn’t.”
“Hutton spoils me silly.” Felicity tipped her head onto my shoulder. “But what does it matter, right? The ring isn’t the most important thing. It’s just a piece of metal and rock. The real worth is in the love you share.”