Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126927 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
We really are prolonging this another minute, aren’t we? “Yeah. That’s fine.” I’m a teensy bit curious what Stella actually wants, but I’m praying this isn’t a curiosity-killed-the-cat situation.
With reluctance, Jake begins to leave me at the bar with his mother’s friend, but not before he warns Stella, “She’s not an enemy. Remember that much.” He doesn’t offer her the chance to reply.
I’m a little impressed, but then again, I haven’t seen Jake in the upper-crust wild among his brothers and mom before. Maybe he isn’t such easy prey.
As he exits the dining room, I’m hoping he’s taking this opportunity to call Rocky.
Stella examines the bottles behind the bar. Her dark hair is center-parted and slicked behind her ears to flaunt teardrop diamonds. “I’ll take a mimosa.”
Okay. I swallow a snarky retort as I find the carafe of orange juice and bottle of Pommery champagne. “Is that all you wanted?”
“Hardly, sweets.” She rests her rouge Chanel clutch on the bar counter, and I frown, wondering why she’s still pretending to be semi-nice when Jake isn’t here anymore.
“Then what?” I start to whip up her mimosa.
“You’ve made quite the stamp in Victoria.”
She wants me to leave?
She’s going to pay me to break up with Jake?
She’s going to pay me to skip out on Jake and this town?
A handful of theories buzz through my brain, and I say nothing as I splash orange juice over the bubbly champagne.
She examines me, like she’s searching for a crack. “Let me ask you something important, Phoebe.”
“I’m an open book,” I lie, sliding the mimosa over to her.
She neglects the drink. “How much do you care for Grey?”
Grey? My pulse skips; I wasn’t expecting her to surface Rocky. “He’s my ex.”
“That’s not what I asked.” She angles fully toward me, as though blocking out the rest of the dining room. “Your tempestuous relationship with your ex-husband has been the talk of the town for some time now, but even I can see there is love there.”
I have feelings for Jake is the lie I should fling to reinforce our fake relationship. Maybe even, I love Jake. Yet, the words stick cruelly and painfully to the back of my throat.
I haven’t said them to Rocky, and I feel sick at the idea of saying them about Jake first. And, of course, she’s wielding Team Grey flags. She’d likely be the largest benefactor of Rocky’s fan club if it meant he’d pry me out of Jake’s clutch.
I’m walking such a strange line right now.
I’ve just started a real relationship with Rocky.
I’m temporarily fake dating Jake.
And I’m not supposed to implode the fake dating scam yet.
“I’ll always care about my ex,” I say. “Jake knows this, and really, my relationships are none of your business.”
“You’re dating a Koning, sweets. If you can’t handle being daily gossip, then you can’t handle being with Jake.” It’s a warning.
“Understood,” I say tightly. “But I can handle everything just fine.”
I mop up a nonexistent spill beside her mimosa.
She pinches the stem of the flute. “There are those of us who feel it’s worth saving.” I don’t understand until she adds, “Your marriage.”
I shift my glare to the wall, not knowing the best way to bail myself out of this sinking ship. Staying quiet is likely the smartest avenue, and so I keep my lips shut.
“What if I told you there’s a way we can help you?” Stella asks, practically oozing over the bar.
“I’m not interested in your help.”
“Don’t be prideful, sweets.” She straightens. “We all need a little help now and then, and you should take ours.”
I don’t ask who “ours” entails. I’m guessing her bestie Claudia is partially behind this ploy. “Again, I’m not—”
“You care for Grey,” she cuts me off. “You likely even love him, but you can’t move beyond the baggage and the past. We can help you. Come.” She waves her fingers at me like I’m a poodle.
“I’m busy.”
“You aren’t. Come.” It’s an order, and from across the dining room, I catch Katherine staking a you better not piss off Stella Fitzpatrick glare at me.
For my job, I obey the command and abandon the bar.
This better be quick.
Sipping her mimosa, she guides me toward the crackling fireplace. “There are people in the business of love, soul mates, fixing marriages, matchmaking—that type of field. I know anyone who’s a big deal, and I only want the best for you, Phoebe.”
“I’m sure you do.”
She hears my dry tone and stops me in the middle of the dining room, a strict hand to my elbow. “Look, I understand why you wouldn’t want to listen to me or even Claudia. But if they truly believe your relationship with Grey is worth rehabilitating, then you should at least listen to them. They’re unbiased and professionals. They’ve likely dealt with worse issues than yours.”
I try not to roll my eyes.