Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Self-control and a healthy fear of getting my teeth rearranged by her brother. Scott had been at the party for half an hour now, and he’d made no move to speak to either of us.
It didn’t bother me as much as it seemed to bother Charlotte.
“What’s he going to do, avoid us for the rest of our lives?” She hastily corrected, “Our relationship?”
As far as I was concerned, those two things were the same. But she would not want to hear that. “Give him space. He’s in arguably the tougher position, here.”
“How so?” she grumbled. There was no doubt that her punishment was greatly influencing her mood. She’d been downright petulant ever since I’d made my “no orgasm” decree.
I loved it.
“Well,” I began, considering my words carefully. “In the first place, he’s in my home territory. I have a tactical advantage. If I don’t want to speak to him, I can ask him to leave, or I can disappear off somewhere. He doesn’t have the luxury of doing that. And that home court advantage extends to you, because you’re my guest here. Second, you and I are facing an awkward situation together. He’s doing it alone.”
Her expression softened somewhat. “I guess you have me on a technicality. But he’s my brother. I don’t extend as much grace to him as you do. Those are the rules of siblinghood.”
“Oh, I believe you,” I said, spotting the bane of my existence across the courtyard. My sister had schmoozed her way down from the terrace, past the fountain, and was now dangerously close. I hoped she wouldn’t bother to speak to us, but she spotted Charlotte, and her eyes narrowed.
“Great, she’s making a beeline for us,” I muttered, taking a sip from my gin and tonic.
“A beeline made by a very angry bee.” Charlotte supplied, hiding her mouth behind her hand.
“A waspline.”
“With capital letters,” she giggled. “A WASPline. Get it?”
“I do,” I confirmed, putting my free hand on her waist as Catherine approached with a fake smile.
“Enjoying the party, Charlotte?” Catherine asked.
Charlotte nodded. “It’s lovely. Although, there was a wasp bothering us a moment ago.”
I choked on my drink slightly.
Catherine didn’t understand the joke. Thank god. She narrowed her eyes and looked up at the top of the topiary behind us. “That won’t do. Mother had pest control out here on Thursday. Do you think there’s a nest?”
“Oh, I think there’s a full-on infestation here somewhere,” Charlotte answered with a totally straight face.
“Well, that aside,” Catherine went on, “you look very pretty.”
“Thanks,” Charlotte answered, smoothing down the front of her skirt. She didn’t know, of course, that “pretty” from my sister was a withering insult. It meant “simple.” Girlish. Unsophisticated.
If Charlotte was going to survive in my world, she would have to become bilingual. She would have to learn to speak rich asshole.”
“Florals to a garden party,” Catherine continued. “Most people would think that was too obvious a choice.”
Judging from Charlotte’s subtle shift in expression, she was picking up some of the dialect.
“I love your shoes,” she said, pointing to the lavender pumps my sister wore. “A lot of women would be worried about their ankles looking stocky in such a thick heel, but you’re pulling it off. Style icon. Like Daisy Duck.”
I could practically hear my sister’s teeth grinding.
With theatrical overemphasis, I scanned the courtyard and directed my gaze toward the terrace. “I haven’t seen Jackson. Did his flight get in safely?”
It was a low blow, and one I regretted the moment I saw the hurt flash across my sister’s face. She pursed her lips slightly. “No. He was called back to the city. An important deal fell through, and he needs to patch up the shoddy work of others. He’ll be here for the birthday party tonight.”
“Shame. I was looking forward to hearing about his work trip to… Was it Thailand?” I blinked innocently at her.
With a venomous “Enjoy the party,” Catherine turned and stalked away from us.
“Wait, you mean…” Charlotte said, a scandalized expression dawning over her face.
“Far be it from me to harshly judge sex tourism, but at least my resorts aren’t exploiting minors.” It wasn’t exactly the kind of topic to share at one’s mother’s birthday luncheon, so I changed the subject. “Did you know that the estate has a hedge maze?”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” I took her hand and led her down the short steps to the next level of the terraced gardens. We made a right at the enormous copy of Versailles’ Bassin d’Apollon and veered into a small copse of immaculately pruned shrubs. Just ahead was the entrance to the maze.
“It’s a little creepy, isn’t it?” Charlotte whispered. “I’ve never been in a real maze before.”
“Oh, I’ll protect you,” I promised. “The Minotaur moved out years ago, and I still have the string threaded through so we can find our way.”