Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 568(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
“Miss Lazenby,” Stan says, hurrying over when he sees me pulling my luggage out of the boot. “Please, let me.”
“I have a car arriving soon,” I explain. “Would you mind putting my bags in when it gets here?” I check the message confirmation. “It’s a grey BMW.”
He frowns, confused. “Um, yes. Of course.”
“Thank you, Stan.”
My lungs are starting to burn with my focused breathing as I pass through the glass doors into the lobby and see Anouska pacing on her mobile. The second she spots me, her face falls and she abandons the call. “Amelia,” she says, more in question. She looks so stressed, and I naturally wonder why. “It’s lovely to see you.”
I force a smile. “I’m here to see Jude.”
“Of course. He’s in his apartment.”
I nod and take the stairs, pausing when she calls my name. Glancing back, I see her shifting uncomfortably.
“He’s got company.” She’s painfully awkward, and I laugh under my breath, frozen where I stand, my feet unwilling to take me any farther.
He has company. Brilliant. “I think I’ve made a mistake,” I say, walking back down the stairs. I told myself it was the decent thing to do. To tell him he’s going to be a dad. What the hell is wrong with me and my stupid fucking choices these days?
“What?” Anouska flanks me as I walk out of Arlington Hall. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes, I’m leaving.”
“Then why did you come?”
I skid to a stop and think. Breathe. Face her. “I came because I thought it was the right thing to do.” I hold up my car keys. His car keys. “And to return the Jaguar.” I drop the fob in her palm and point to Stan. “I have a car arriving shortly. I’ll wait out here.”
“Come into the Library Bar,” she suggests, hopeful. “It’s more comfortable.”
“Honestly, I’d rather wait out here.” Anouska will never appreciate how grateful I am she didn’t let me go up to Jude’s apartment and further my humiliation. I reach for her hand. “Thank you.”
She deflates, exasperated. “I like you, Amelia. You’re smart. Please don’t let Katherine be the reason you abandon whatever it is you have with Jude.”
“It’s not Katherine,” I assure her, and she tilts her head. I laugh a little. “I wish it was just Katherine.” I have an opportunity in front of me, and I fucking hate myself for wanting to take it. “May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Katherine thought I was a bet.”
“Thought?”
“Jude led her to believe I was just another woman in one of the games they play. He didn’t want her to know that he was actually using me to get back at my ex.”
“I’m sorry, I’m not following.”
“Jude has a grudge with my ex. Something about bad financial advice.”
Her eyes close as she sighs. “Amelia, I—”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. I shouldn’t be grilling Anouska, making her feel bad. But then I’m talking again, unable to stop myself. “How many women before me have they bet on?”
I see her body language shift very slightly, and she glances away. “I’ve worked for Jude since the doors of Arlington Hall opened,” she says, sounding almost wistful. “His life and soul have gone into making this place what his mother envisaged. And he has. He’s had flings here and there, but they’ve never lasted. He’s never been serious with anyone, and, believe me, that wasn’t only Katherine’s doing.” She shrugs, uncomfortable. “He was different with you. The black cloud that’s hung over him for as long as I’ve known him lifted, Amelia. That’s got to stand for something.”
It stands for revenge. “It really doesn’t matter anymore.”
“And it’s not because of Katherine?”
My head shakes. “I have to go.” I pull my phone out to check my Uber app. It’s fifteen minutes away. “Do you think someone can get my bags to the main gate? I feel like a walk.”
“Sure.” She waves Stan over. “I hope to see you again.” Her arms come up, and I walk into them, hugging her, neglecting to tell Anouska that she likely will be seeing me again. When I drop off or pick up my child.
If Jude wants to see it.
“Thanks for everything.” Releasing her, I collect my handbag, but I only make it a few paces.
I hear someone call, “Miss Lazenby!” and I stop, looking back. A man in whites is coming towards me, drying his hands on a tea towel. “I just had to apologise personally,” he says. He must catch my frown. “Sorry, I’m Henry, the executive chef here at Arlington Hall.”
“Oh, hi.” I turn to face him. “Apologise for what?”
“I run a tight ship, Miss Lazenby. I was mortified when I heard what happened with the Eton Mess.”
“Oh God.” I smile softly. “Please, mistakes happen.”
“Not on my watch. She should never have been allowed the opportunity to do that.”