Perfect Together Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
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Colette’s brows drew together in confusion.

She powered through that and stated, “I hope you one day give them to Manon.”

Pearls were not the most expensive luxury jewel you could buy, except these looked perfect. They shone because they’d been well cared for. Each pearl appeared perfectly matched to the others. The strand was very long, and the unnecessary clasp was extravagant and encrusted with diamonds, the better to show it off.

I’d gauge, depending on who made them, and the quality and carats of the diamonds, they were worth anywhere from $20,000 to $35,000. Maybe more.

I would, indeed, one day very soon give them to Manon.

And then she could decide what to do with them.

“I…this is so generous of you, Colette. Thank you again.”

She dipped her chin to me, looked to her side, and put her hand on a wide, rectangular box that was so tall, it was resting on a slant from the floor against the couch.

“This is for you, Sabre.”

It had no roses, and because genders had colors apparently, the satin ribbon was black.

He opened it, and when he glanced at what was inside, his expression was my feeling of five minutes before.

“That’s your five times great grandfather’s cavalry saber,” she explained. “A saber for Sabre,” she ended on a quip.

I looked to Guillaume, who was standing behind the couch, off to the side, not close, but also not far from Colette.

His lips were thin, and he was studying his wife with an expression I’d never seen him give her.

Distaste.

I was wrong.

This wasn’t a swan song.

She was punishing us.

“You’re giving me a Confederate sword?” Sabre asked, openly insulted.

“Sah, just take it,” Manon murmured.

He ignored his sister.

“You know I’m a Yankee,” he told his grandmother.

A hysterical giggle nearly escaped my mouth.

“I believe at the time Arizona was in the hands of the Spanish,” Colette said, also openly insulted.

“I believe at this time being a Yankee is the state of an educated mind,” Sabre fired back.

I pressed my lips together, doing it so I wouldn’t let out a whoop.

“You cannot escape the fact you have Cormier blood,” Colette snapped.

“Whatever. I can’t take this on a plane,” Sabre replied.

Guillaume entered the burgeoning fray smoothly, stating, “I’ll keep it safe for you. Now, Colette, if you would carry on. They need to be up early, and it’s late for you.”

“I’m not certain I want to carry on,” Colette retorted. “I’m handing them their legacy. It doesn’t matter who lost that war. It still holds value, and it’s part of this family’s history. That saber is in pristine condition. It’s worth thousands of dollars.”

Sabre opened his mouth.

“Son,” Remy said.

Sabre closed his mouth.

But he didn’t reopen it to thank his grandmother.

She waited, which meant we all waited.

But my firstborn said nothing.

Colette sighed with irritation and turned to the seat beside her.

She held out a box wrapped like mine toward Manon. It was much smaller and only had one sweetheart rose.

“This isn’t tainted,” she spat.

Manon took it, opened it, and I could hear her swift intake of breath.

“Those are the earrings your grandfather gave me on our honeymoon. They’re diamonds, radiant cut, nine carats total,” she pronounced.

Now I understood Manon’s breath. We’d all seen Colette wear those earrings over the years, and we’d seen it often.

We also knew she didn’t wear them because they were magnificent (and they were), but because Guillaume had given them to her in the first blush of love and marriage.

Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe she wasn’t punishing us. Maybe she felt this stuff genuinely had nostalgic family value, not to mention monetary value (even that saber), and she was trying to show she cared for us in her inept way.

I sensed this because Yves was the favorite, not Manon, and those earrings were worth quite a bit of money.

But they were priceless in terms of sentimental value.

And Colette wouldn’t think the pearls she gave me, a necklace she wanted Manon to have, were slave pearls. She’d think of them only as Cormier pearls.

“I can’t take these, Grandmama,” Manon said softly.

The line of Colette’s shoulders lightened, she smiled beneficently at Manon and replied, “I want you to.”

Manon twisted her neck in order to look up to her dad, so I did too.

He nodded.

Manon turned again to Colette, holding the box in both hands to her chest. “Thank you. They…were given in love and…worn with love. I’ll always remember that.”

Colette’s face warmed, and I was proud of my girl for pulling that off.

“Yves.” Colette held out another box.

Yves got up to take it, sat back down, opened it, and then pulled out a gold pocket watch, allowing it to swing from its chain.

“That is a Breguet,” Colette announced grandly. “It came over from France when your ancestors came here. Abraham-Louis Breguet is one of the finest watchmakers of all time. In fact, the watch he failed to finish for the queen, Marie Antoinette, before she was executed, is the most expensive watch in existence. That’s”—she lifted a hand to point a finger at the gold dangling from the chain around Yves’s finger—“not as grand, but considering how it appraised the last time we updated our insurance, it’s nothing to sneeze at either.”



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