Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“You can wait there while I’m in my appointment,” I tell him.
“Direct line of sight,” he says.
“Excuse me?”
“Those are my orders. Now, last I checked, my eyesight was pretty good, but I can’t see through doors.”
“You aren’t coming into my office during the appointment,” I argue. “That’s nonnegotiable.”
“Because?” He cocks a brow.
“Because I’m not about to get naked in front of you,” a feminine voice answers.
We both turn, and a sliver of unease crawls up my spine when I see Persephone Stavros standing there. She offers me a cool smile, and before my brain can make sense of this development, she takes the lead on the conversation.
“I’m on time, aren’t I?”
Two things plow through my mind simultaneously. The first is that I know her name isn’t on my schedule, which means she booked the appointment under an alias. And the second is that Nicky doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s a Stavros. But as I get a better look at her sleek black bob that’s a far cry from her normal blonde hair, I can understand why. She currently looks nothing like any photo he’s probably been shown.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” I force the words out, hoping Nicky doesn’t notice the tension in my voice.
“Good idea.” She offers him a coy smile. “You can wait out here. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll show you an outfit or two.”
“Give me a shout when you’re ready.” He spreads his arms wide as he sinks back into the sofa.
We step into my office, and I close the door, using the remote control to turn on some soft music. “What are you doing here, Persephone?”
She wanders around the space, trailing her fingers over the racks of clothing and accessories. “I came to offer my condolences.”
“Thank you, but that really isn’t necessary. We all know your family held no love for Silvio.”
She pauses and smirks. “Oh, I didn’t mean Silvio. I came to offer my condolences for your impending marriage to Matteo Vitale. I’m surprised you even showed up for this appointment, given your wedding is in a few days.”
“Maybe she’s trying to distract herself.” A dark voice to my right captures my attention.
My spine straightens as I make eye contact with Ares Stavros as he exits the dressing room. He is, as always, impeccably attired in a three-piece suit, looking every bit the rake he is. And for the first time since I joked about it with Valentina, I find myself questioning if the Stavros family really does plan to kill me. It would make sense, given that taking the future Vitale bride out of the equation would narrow the window to fulfill the treaty.
“How did you get in here?” I glare at him. “My office was locked.”
He smiles as if only a simpleton would ask such a question.
“My guard is outside,” I inform him.
“I’m shaking in my Armani loafers.” He strolls across my office and makes himself at home in the chair behind my desk. “Go ahead; tell him to join us if you like. I’m up for a little roughhousing.”
“I’m surprised you’d even deign to wear an Italian brand,” I quip.
“Yes, well”—he sighs—“can’t get away from those Italians. And despite what you may think about me, I can admire fine craftsmanship when I see it.” His gaze flicks over me. “To whom should I credit yours? Your mother, your father, or the Lord Almighty?”
I sigh. “What do you want, Ares?”
A devious smile curves his lips. “I need a few new wardrobe staples, and legend has it you’re one of the best in the business.”
“Don’t tell me you can’t find another stylist in Seattle who isn’t on your list of mortal enemies.”
“Are we enemies?” He presses a hand to his chest, as if I could possibly wound him. “I thought we managed to get along all right over the years.”
“Sure.” I snatch a Valentino bag from Persephone’s hands and put it back on the shelf. “Never mind the treaty.”
“A treaty made by old men when they were drunk.” Persephone plucks a vintage Louboutin heel off the shelf, admiring it.
I study Ares, trying and failing to gauge his thoughts on the matter. I would be a fool to buy their casual dismissal of the subject. Angelo always said you could never trust a Stavros.
“And yet, it still stands,” I say.
“I didn’t realize it was such a big concern of yours.” Ares muses as he leans back in my chair, sprawling out like he owns the place.
“How could it not be?” Persephone chimes in. “It’s a heavy crown to bear being the next Vitale queen. So many expectations.”
“Indeed,” Ares agrees. “Particularly when you waited until the Vitale patriarch was on his deathbed to set a date. It’s a risky game, don’t you think?”
I adopt a neutral expression, hoping to appear stoic. I’ve become a good actress over the years, but I have a sinking feeling Ares isn’t taking a shot in the dark here. He suspects something is up, and this could be a fishing expedition. Either way, I can’t tell him the burden is no longer mine because Angelo has returned.