Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
“He’s doomed,” Ford declares, raising his glass. “With Elise’s face, the boy will break hearts before he can walk.”
“He has Landon’s nose,” she says, tone so stubborn, no one would dare question her.
“My condolences to the kid.”
Landon throws a roll at Ford’s head.
I laugh with them, sparkling water sweating in my hand, grateful to share the evening with the group around this table. The baby has Elise’s chin, but if she wants my brother’s nose on him, then Landon’s nose it is.
The live music shifts into something upbeat, inviting couples to trickle toward the dance floor.
“Duty calls.” Setting his napkin down, Hugo rises. “I have rounds to make.” His gaze sweeps the table, falling on Ford last. “Behave.”
“Always,” he answers, fooling absolutely no one.
With Hugo off working the room and Ford lost to a conversation about a vintage car, I excuse myself and wander to the outskirts of the floor, near the French doors that would stand open to the gardens if the weather allowed.
Even with the space closed up for winter, the air comes easier here, the nausea that dogged me through dinner finally settling.
Couples turn in slow orbits beneath the chandeliers, light splintering off jewels until the whole room glitters. The beauty of it tips into the surreal, especially once the patrons approach me.
Hugo wasn’t exaggerating.
A woman adorned in emeralds asks where I trained. A silver fox of a man with a buyer’s eye circles the gown twice before asking if I take private commissions. One of the other featured designers stops to gush over Midnight Rain, then pulls me toward her own display of architectural eveningwear, softened in chiffon. A style far different from mine, but stunning nonetheless.
Then a familiar voice joins the mix. “Now this is what I flew across an ocean to see.”
I turn to find Alejandro Von Jean staring at me as if I’m a piece of art.
“Mr. Von Jean.”
“Alejandro, please.” He takes a slow turn around me, one hand lifting toward the beaded raindrops. “Exquisite beadwork. The way you’ve scattered them across the silk, the whole gown caught in a downpour…brilliant.”
“Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”
“I mean every word, Novalee. One does not simply wear a storm, and yet here you stand.” He presses a hand to his chest, as though the sight pains him. “I have not stopped thinking about your raw talent. I want you in Milan. My atelier, a week, no obligations. We talk.”
It’s the kind of offer that could launch me into the stratosphere of the fashion world, but it’s one I can’t accept right now—not with all the obligations on my plate.
Two auctions.
A high-profile wedding.
Faked blood the night of.
The birth of two babies.
Lilith’s.
Mine.
“A tempting opportunity, Alejandro. I would love to, if my schedule wasn’t already full. If you’re still interested next year, I’d be honored to take you up on it.”
“Oh, I’m interested. Have your people contact my people.” He dips his head, wishing me a blessed evening, and then he’s off and fawning over someone else.
I pivot, hoping to catch sight of Hugo so I can unload some of this excitement before I make a fool of myself, but I end up doing just that by plowing straight into a chest.
“Novalee.”
One blink, and Dr. Price is just there, the way he was in the corridor.
“We must stop meeting like this,” he says as he takes a step back, protecting the drink in his hand. “People might start talking.”
“I’m sorry. It’s quite the crowd tonight.”
“Spectacular turnout.” His gaze runs the length of my body, head to toe. “You look well.”
“Thank you.” I don’t expect him to pick at my composure, the way he did last time—he’s too calculating to hint at his hand, let alone play it in a crowded room—but my muscles tense anyway.
“It’s nice to see some color back in your face. I take it you’re sleeping better?”
“Like a baby.” I keep my smile fixed. “Needed my beauty sleep for tonight.”
A faint pull at his mouth, there and gone, before I can decide if it existed at all. “Enjoy yourself, Novalee. You’ve earned it.”
He blends back into the crowd, and my heart palpitates over a conversation that, on the surface, was nothing.
It’s not nothing.
Dr. Price doesn’t do surface level. I’m not sure how I know that, but I do.
And in a few days, when I cross into his house, I’ll find out if I’m right.
17
Iend up back at the table nursing a mock cocktail. Before I took the first sip, I’d watched the bartender’s every move while she made it. Landon and Elise left a while ago, and Ford’s off doing Ford things.
Hugo makes his way through the room, shaking hands and lending an ear to one deep-pocketed donor after another. But every so often, his gaze drifts back to me, a quick check before he turns to the next conversation. My shadow, even with a foundation to charm.