Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58521 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
It took all my might to casually greet Mrs. St. Claire with charm and grace as if her other son hadn’t just been buried balls deep inside me only hours ago. Thank God for my half hour shower this morning before Mom and her make-up caddy descended upon my room.
My brain freaked out when Mr. St. Claire first sat down that he’d give something away… But then I remembered no one but Walker had noticed me as me last night. But God, had that been dangerous, I fully realized now in hindsight. What had I been thinking? I hadn’t been. Wasn’t that the whole point? My one night off from sanity and responsibility.
Well, I’d had it. And it was delicious. It was also over.
I was back to the real world.
Because even though I knew there was no way in hell I’d ever be courting Percival Reginald Jack St. Claire the III—who my senior year I’d literally seen grab a smaller kid and stuff him upside down in a trashcan while he and his douchey friends cackled—there was no getting out of it now that I was here.
I sat upright, Southern belle perfect, and answered question after question his mother lobbed my way. It was like being back on the pageant circuit, really. And like any good pageant girl, I answered demurely, oozing charm, flashing teeth.
All the while wanting to stab Percy’s eyes out because he got to sit there in his boxers not even bothering to conceal that he was looking at his phone. Not really fair, I guessed, since he probably didn’t have anything to do with this brunch. No, this had been cooked up between our two mothers playing fucked-up matchmaker. With Sully’s company suddenly added to my name, I’d become the most eligible debutante in the county.
The whole thing made me want to scream. Instead I smiled and took minuscule bites of my eggs hollandaise.
Mr. St. Claire read the paper. Clearly, he didn’t give too shits about this whole thing either. At least until his wife finally spoke to me.
“It’s very exciting to hear that VanDoren Enterprises will soon be handed over to you,” she said, her voice pretty and delicate like her features. “It’s a shame that your brother wasn’t able to take it over, but at least it will remain in the family.”
At least this was something I was actually interested in talking about. “Yes, I’m looking forward to—”
But my mother cut me off before I could even get started. “It will be such a help once she has a husband to take over such a large endeavor,” Mom said. “We of course want to keep it in the family, but that world is no place for a woman of Jasmine’s standing. My daughter will have so many social engagements to keep her busy, not to mention all the boards and charity responsibilities.”
Percy snorted and everyone at the table looked at him. But it appeared he’d just laughed because of something on his phone. He jumped a little and looked up—obviously someone had just kicked him under the table. Likely his father, considering he was closest. Percy didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed he hadn’t been paying attention. But one glance at his father showed two spots of angry color in Mr. St. Claire’s otherwise unperturbed face.
“Indeed,” Mrs. St. Claire said with a smile at me.
“And with Sullivan gone,” my mom said, wiping her lips tidily, “we have to explore all of Jasmine’s options.” She flipped disapproving eyes towards Percy. In that moment I realized that, dear God, Mom was enjoying the bit of power and cache she now had in the community as the mother of eligible prey.
While I’d looked at Mom, it was clear Percy’s father had snatched his phone away, because now he had his elbow on the table, looking gloomily bored at his food.
“Yes, it’s such a shame about Sullivan,” Mrs. St. Claire chimed in, faux-sympathetically.
Dear God, and she and my mom were supposedly friends? But I guess this was the way of polite society. To sit here over fancy silverware and crystal glasses, then dig at each other’s sore spots through bared, smiling teeth.
Sully failing to become a member of The Order of the Silver Ghost had been the talk of Darlington at the time. And clearly still was. Nothing pleased a socialite more than some juicy gossip. Now that it was clear her son had no chance with me, was she hoping to at least get something out of this brunch to take back to the rest of her cronies?
“Sully is happy with his choices,” I interrupted when it was clear Mom was floundering for a response, “and I think that’s all that matters.”
I looked straight at Mrs. St. Claire, mimicking her soft smile. “He and his girlfriend are really perfect together. They just moved in with each other and I’ve never seen my brother happier.”