Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65031 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Me: I have my own apartment now. I’m safe there.
Even if I never use it, at least I have it. Plus, Dad needs to know I’m not going back there, and I certainly don’t need him to protect me. I’ll protect myself.
My phone rings, but I don’t recognize the number. I ignore it and head into the living room to check on Shrimp. Tucked into the bars of his cage is a postcard with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on it. On the back, in Winston’s fancy flourishes, it says:
Dinner tonight, girlfriend. – W
Not a question. Just a typical Winston demand. But also sweet and romantic . . . for him. I laugh, holding it to my chest and then sigh happily. I’m not sure what will become of us, but I don’t see it ending anytime soon. This weekend only seemed to solidify our bond.
My phone rings again. I answer it in case it’s Winston. Not many people have this new number.
“Hello?”
“Miss Elliott?” a female says in a curt tone.
“Yes?”
“This is Caroline Constantine.” She pauses to let that name sink in, and boy does it sink, bottoming out my stomach. “Meet me at Carmichael’s Day Spa in an hour.”
I’m stunned silent as I wonder how in the hell she got my number. Furthermore, how does she know I’m not at work and able to even go to the spa? I’m pretty confident Winston didn’t seek out his mother to tell her all this. In fact, he seemed pretty adamant about keeping things from her.
“I, uh,” I start but she cuts me off with a sharp sigh that reminds me of her eldest son.
“I’ll send a car for you.”
Beep-beep-beep.
She hung up on me. Lovely. At least I know where Winston got his winning personality from. I suck in a deep calming breath to steady myself. If I can handle Win, I can handle his mother. I refuse to let her intimidate me. Quickly, I shoot him a text.
Me: I’ve been summoned to a spa day with your mother. Should I be scared?
Win: Very.
Me: Ha. Seriously. I’m freaking out.
Win: I’m sure you’ll figure it out.
Me: Gee, thanks. Send me to the wolves with no way to defend myself!
Win: Just one wolf.
Me: What if she tells me to stay away from you?
Win: Since when do you listen to anyone?
Me: I want to make a good impression.
Win: You’re so old fashioned, Cinderelliott. Cute.
Me: You’re patronizing me.
Win: Tell her you’re my girlfriend. I’m sure that will go over wonderfully.
Me: I hate you.
Win: That’s not a very nice thing to say to your boyfriend.
Me: Not my boyfriend.
Win: Good. Now you’re prepared for Mother.
I send him a million eyeroll emojis. He replies back with a breadstick emoji. Asshole.
Carmichael’s Day Spa is one of the fanciest places I’ve ever been to. Rather than your typical spa—earthy, organic vibes—this one screams money with its high-end chandeliers and ornate furniture. Wearing a pair of cutoff shorts, my flip flops, and a Columbia University T-shirt Dad got me when I was accepted, I feel incredibly out of place. I gnaw on my fingernail as I wait for Caroline to arrive. I’m hoping she’ll stand me up and I can go back to Winston’s.
The door opens to the spa and my hopes are dashed.
In walks Caroline Constantine in a smart pastel ensemble with an air of authority swirling in along with her expensive floral scent. She pushes her oversized sunglasses up over her head, revealing her sharp, penetrating blue eyes.
“Miss Elliott,” she greets, a fake smile plastered on her face. “Thank you for meeting me.”
Like I had a choice, lady.
I stand and awkwardly shuffle toward her. “No problem.”
Her gaze roams over my outfit, and her nostrils flare. “Darlene,” she calls out. “We’re ready.”
Darlene, a woman with a severe bun and perfect makeup, scampers over to us. “Come this way, ladies. We have your room ready.”
I follow after the women, trying and failing to calm my nerves. I’m not sure why in the hell this woman wants to have a spa day with me, but something tells me I’ll soon find out. Her cold demeanor doesn’t give me much confidence that it’ll be a fun girls’ day. Darlene escorts us into a room with two overstuffed armchairs and armoires beside each.
“You’ll find your robes and slippers in here,” Darlene says, gesturing to one of the armoires. “Cindy will be by with some refreshments after you’ve gotten comfortable. Padre and Evan are preparing the massage room for you.”
She leaves me alone with Caroline. The woman turns her back to me and begins undressing. Since I don’t care a thing about seeing this woman naked, I quickly undress and pull on the robe. Once the slippers are on and my things are stowed away, I sit down in one of the comfy chairs. As soon as she sits, a woman who must be Cindy, slips into the room with a tray. She hands us each a flute of champagne and sits a cheese and fruit board down between us on a small table. Then, she’s gone, once again leaving me in awkward silence with Win’s mother.