Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“All right, Luxury?” Burt asks.
I set aside my mother’s diary. How long was he standing there? I haven’t turned the page in over ten minutes and wasn’t focused on it before.
“I forgot you left shortly after our arrival here. The gossip mill hasn’t brought you up to speed on how Vic’s mom had her guards try to smoosh me like an ant?”
“May I?” He gestures to the seat next to me.
“I’m ashamed you even feel the need to ask.” As he settles down, I elaborate. “Jane has asked all the princess’s ladies-in-waiting for a moment of Lady Mary’s time. Even gone so far to glimpse her daily schedule.”
He snorts. “I can tell you precisely what’s on her agenda this afternoon.”
“What? Where?” My brows rise. “I’m not apologizing about the first day. Far as I’m concerned, she exacted her revenge—if she thought I meant to snub her. But I will share that I feel . . . that I’m in love with her son, and I hope for the best for us.”
He pats my shoulder. “You’re not only cheeky, Luxury, but you very well might have more bollocks than all of these royal asshats.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “Would Bartholomew use such language?”
“Yes, he would. He’s quite the 007.”
“Damn, I really went for the wrong older guy, didn’t I?”
“Answer that question.” Victor’s voice is sharper than a double-edged knife as he swaggers out onto the balcony. “I dare you, Burt the Butler.”
Victor’s mouth pauses a fraction away from my forehead. My heart leaps into my throat as he kisses me there and winks.
I roll my eyes away. The bastard remembers exactly what I said. “How was your business meeting?”
“Another one . . . this month.” Burt tips a brow. “Is something the matter, Victor?”
Yes! Thank you, Burt, for taking the words out of my mouth.
“Is that not normal? How was your board meeting?” I ask.
“Uneventful,” Victor responds.
“Well, I'd love to come with you one day. Just maybe step in, say hello, and then go for a walk until you're ready. I won't be a bother.”
“You never are. I will consider taking you to Arl—to the meeting next month.” He turns to Burt, “Take the remainder of the day. I’ve packed my own wicker basket, and I’m taking my lady for a walk.”
“Marmalade and butter?”
“Aye, Burt.”
“Glasses?”
“What do you take me for?”
Satisfied, Burt climbs to his feet and strolls back through my bedroom. Victor takes my hand, helps me up, and sweeps my curly hair over my shoulder. His mouth skims the slope of my neck, making my heart sputter.
My voice is a tremor of desire. “We won’t make it one step out of the house if you keep at it.”
“Who’s to say, I don’t have more in mind during our walk? We have to stop somewhere, so I can eat.” His devilishly seductive voice has me aflame with desire as he spins me around until my ass is against him and massive arms hold me captive.
“Conceited, are we?” I try to turn around to chuckle, but Victor’s body presses into my back, and it feels so good. So right. A sigh of bliss escapes my mouth.
His nibbling down the length of my neck makes it easier to lose my mind just a little bit more.
Every afternoon, we’ve strolled in a different direction, fingers intertwined, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. As we walk, Victor points to various landmarks, and I tell him the different species of flowers.
Damn, I need to check my email and see if I’ve gotten into the college.
After a while, we come upon a stream trickling between a cluster of trees.
“Let’s stop here,” I say, marveling at how the flowers have followed the sun.
Victor places a blanket on the ground and a wicker basket filled with goodies.
While he prepares his version of afternoon tea, I slink toward the riverbed and call my dad. It’s almost eleven a.m. his time. Dad has been waking up later and later, the older he gets. I take a deep breath, deciding to ask him if the realtor has called regarding Urban Gardens . . . or the bank.
“Hello. Hello?” he begins as if frazzled.
“Dad, what in the world are you doing?”
“Lux, oh, it’s you. I thought so. I’m not wearing my glasses. But you call me twice a day, child.”
Guilt has caused me to pester Dad.
While reading my momma’s journal, it’s clear she fell for Charles's good looks when the two of them walked into the diner, but it wasn’t just that. Charles was warm, magnetic, charming. My dad was, well, awkward. She only dedicated a line or two to Jonah Whitson. As our conversation progresses, it’s clear some things never change.
“Where's the nurse?” My eyebrows stitch with worry, and I instantly forget about everything else.
Victor mouths, “You okay?” He situates wine, a cheese board, and fruit on a tray.