Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35494 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 177(@200wpm)___ 142(@250wpm)___ 118(@300wpm)
Sometimes for playing in the sheets – which always has me too tired to move for hours.
And sometimes for playing out of them – like when he took me to play put-put after realizing it was too embarrassing to have me on the actual golf course.
The instant I’m finished texting, I cautiously glance up at the butler I’m pretty sure loathes my presence.
He folds his hands firmly behind his back prior to inquiring, “May I begin, Miss Pierson?”
“Uh-huh.”
There’s an unmistakable eye twitch at the ill grammar response. “You are to retire your studies immediately to prepare for an outing-”
“Oh, we’re going out?! Where?”
Another irritated glare over my interruption is given. “You will be accompanying Mr. Whittington to a regatta-”
“A boat race?!”
“You will be accompanying Mr. Whittington to a regatta. You will begin your evening at the prestigious Contes De La Couronne-”
“The yacht club?!”
An exasperated huff sails out of the man tasked with telling more than I am letting him. “Miss Pierson, if you would be so kind as to let me finish what it is I am saying, perhaps this process might be go a tad quicker allowing you the adequate time you will require to put yourself together for those whose presence you will be spending the evening in.”
My lips press firmly together to stop from saying something sassy back.
Something like how my ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini’ and wooden bangles are totally appropriate for the pool side scene I’m currently in. That I would never wear them to some bougie boat thing! That I may not know all there is to know in this Fancy Nancy world I was dropped into, but that I do know that.
Just like I know I would never purposely do something to embarrass the man I lo – um – am currently sleeping with.
Not the other thing I was stupid to think for a second.
“You will begin your evening at the prestigious Contes De La Couronne Yacht Club. You will be offered appetizers and beverages throughout the event before sailing over to one of the guest’s private islands for a five-course lobster dinner. You and Mr. Whittington shall be retiring rather late. While he had the morning originally set aside for the two of you, a call he must take has now been placed on his schedule.”
I can’t stop my shoulders from falling in disappointment.
“Your morning breakfast plans together have been rescheduled for brunch at Havana Haven in hopes of appeasing the unplanned schedule change. Mr. Whittington knows how much you value your first meal of the day together and hates that it has to be delayed; however, he is optimistic that sleeping in late and dining at a place you have not been able to since your mother’s unwellness will persuade you into being understanding.”
Excitement immediately resumes its rightful place in my expression.
Gosh, I wish Tomas was still on the phone so he could hear this and see that Elias isn’t some storybook monster. He’s thoughtful and considerate and caring and wants me to be happy.
“Mr. Whittington has already begun the process for changing for the event, Miss Pierson. You may want to begin as well.”
I swiftly pop out of the lounge chair, leaving behind my almost empty smoothie glass but taking my other belongings. With newfound excitement pumping through my veins, I let my mind eagerly wander to what’s in store, not sparing much thought to Tomas’s continued text badgering about how tight Elias’s security system is, how many guards are usually around, and needing to see pictures of the space I’m claiming I’m safe at. In fact, due to all of the giddiness, it isn’t until after I’ve opened the sleek box with a big decorative bow containing my dress for the event that I stop and wonder about my brother’s specific request for photos.
Hm.
Is he being overly paranoid by wanting pictures, or am I being overly suspicious for assuming it’s for the wrong reasons?
**
The yellow chiffon dress I’m wearing is cut slightly shorter in the front – showing off the perfect hint of my slender thighs while still fitting into dress code – and spills to the ground at the heel. I both look and feel like the expensive price tag I couldn’t stop gawking at earlier.
Elias’s hand settles onto my lower back to assist in leading me up the stairs of an imposing yacht club.
“Whoa …” I breathlessly mutter.
He gives a small adjustment to his navy and red striped summer blazer as he hums questioningly in response to my comment.
“This is…This is a mansion.”
“It’s the club.”
“Okay, but it looks like a mansion. A mega-mansion even!”
The grin I’m flashed is one of obvious amusement.
“Geez, when you said boat sailing…I…I…”
I am not gonna fit in at this thing!
They are gonna know I don’t belong!
I don’t belong.
Cute dress, perfect shoes, strange Breakfast At Tiffany’s hat aside, nothing about me is going to fit in tonight.