Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115468 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
She lifted her hand from mine and waved it around, stopping my words. “Gage, if you’re not sure, don’t answer yet. You said you’d give it until your party and let me know then. But listen, I already spoke with your father and he’s willing to hire me to manage all the social media for the London hotel build and opening. I’d focus on the style aspect, of course, and give the designers my input. My mother put me in charge of redoing our Hamptons home last year and it was featured in several local style magazines. In addition to fashion, I’d relish the opportunity to add interior design to my online portfolio. Plus, I could bring the eyes of my two million Instagram followers to The Buchanan in London, from ground-breaking to ribbon-cutting, featuring the luxurious but au courant style so beautifully done in your hotels.” Her eyes shined with excitement as I worked to arrange all the words she’d said into something that didn’t feel like a fist squeezing my lungs.
Two million Instagram followers.
I already spoke with your father.
I could see Blakely now, sweeping through the London hotel, completely in her element as she talked thread count and designer wallpaper as two million young people were introduced to The Buchanan. If my father was the new Conrad Hilton, Blakely would be his Paris. She’d been born for the role. Of course my father was on board. Now he probably thought our union was more perfect than ever.
“Anyway,” Blakely went on, “if your answer is a yes”—her smile widened—“we’ll drink to new beginnings. We owe it to ourselves, and maybe even to our parents, to really live with the idea for a couple more weeks. To give it our real heartfelt consideration, don’t you think?”
I took in Blakely’s pretty smile and the way she picked at her cuticles when she was nervous, like she was doing now. I could tell that the idea hadn’t only grown on her since we’d first spoken; she was incredibly enthusiastic about it. She was already envisioning her life—our life in vivid detail.
And so was my father.
I let out a slow exhale, willing the internal fist to unclench. And really? She was right. I hadn’t given it even a moment of consideration—heartfelt or otherwise—even though I’d fully intended to. Why? Because of Rory and the way my mind constantly wanted to travel to her. And so I’d shut down my thoughts to the best of my ability. Because thoughts of my father spending his evenings with another woman having picnics on the lake shore and impregnating her with my gorgeous, sexy half-sister was driving me mad.
“Is the heartburn that bad?” Blakely asked, indicating I’d once again made a sound of distress without realizing it.
I gave her an apologetic look. If it was confirmed that Rory was related to me, I’d relish going to another country. I’d get as far away from her and the feelings of lust she stirred up in me as I possibly could.
Is it only lust that she stirs up? No, and that made the problem worse.
My gaze met Blakely’s. “I’ll give it some real consideration,” I promised her.
She grinned and raised her glass, clinking it to mine just as our food arrived.
When we’d finished lunch, I walked Blakely outside the club where we waited while the valet brought her car around. As it pulled up to the curb, Blakely slipped her hand around my waist, leaned in close, and brought her lips to mine, darting her tongue out to lick my bottom lip before pulling away. She tilted her head and smiled shyly up at me. “I hope that was okay,” she said. “And I do hope you’ll think hard about…us. We could rule the world together.” She gave a small, teasing laugh, and then she wiped my lips with her thumb before heading toward her car.
I watched Blakely get in her cherry red convertible and peel off, tempted to yell after her to slow the hell down, like some overbearing dad.
Or big brother.
Though she definitely hadn’t kissed me like a sibling. It had been…pleasant. And only slightly weird. But not…bad.
Just not Rory.
Fuck.
I stood there for a moment feeling troubled and weighted down by things out of my control before finally turning and reentering the club in order to take the quickest route to the member’s parking lot located in the back.
“Oh, hello, Gage.”
I came up short. “Mrs. Bellamy,” I said, taking Virginia Bellamy’s hand and leaning in and kissing her on her powder-soft cheek as her perfume wafted over me. “How nice to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you too,” she said, sniffing delicately as if to see if there was alcohol on my breath. Ah yes, the gossips had been chattering. Likely the suppositions of a drinking problem had quickly morphed into an upcoming stay at a cushy rehab center. Talk moved faster than reality—or the lack thereof in my case anyway—on the towns bordering Pelion Lake.