Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Wow, she is a lot,” Heath whispers. “And is that a dog?”
“Yes, it’s a dog, and if the dog doesn’t like you CeCe will take it as a bad sign. She believes all dogs are psychic and can tell when a person is not good to do business with. The dog’s name is Lady Buttercup, and you better make her like you. If she growls at you, we’re dead in the water.” Now that I think about it, Her Ladyship had growled at Nick, and I didn’t listen to her.
“Now I’m afraid of the dog,” Heath admits. “What if I’m more of a cat person?”
“Then she will know,” I warn as I realize the crowd is parting and all eyes are turning our way.
I should have guessed it. This is the dramatic moment these people have been waiting for. They all know she is my mentor and I’d fucked up big time. Will the queen take back her wayward handmaiden? Or will she give me the cut direct? It’s a phrase from super-old times, but the cut direct never really went out of style in Manhattan society. It’s kind of like ghosting someone except in person, and it feels like someone is actually stabbing you.
It’s a scenario I haven’t included in my seemingly never-ending roster of how this will go, and suddenly I’m nervous about it.
Sometimes I can be a glass is half empty and probably has hidden cracks and will disintegrate when I try to drink from it person.
“Hey, you okay?” Heath seems to have picked up on my sudden anxiety.
Which means everyone likely can, and I’m screwing this up.
CeCe stops in front of me and studies me from head to toe, critically dissecting every part of me. Though there’s still music playing, I swear it’s faded into the background as the queen passes her judgment.
Will I be a diamond? Or the piece of coal that didn’t quite make it?
“Ivy, that dress is lovely on you. Which of your friends knocked you out and dressed you?”
Relief floods through me. If she’s insulting my fashion sense, we’re okay. “I got it myself at Bergdorf this afternoon, thank you very much.”
She looks me over again, but her expression is softer. “Then maybe you’ve learned a thing or two. Though you can do better than kitten heels, Ivy. That dress needs some height. I would send you to my surgeon, but Candace hasn’t figured out how to lengthen her clients’ legs without scars and pain and whatnot. Though she could do your breasts, dear. They’re not getting any younger.”
“Well, yours did,” I shoot back, and I hear Heath gasp.
CeCe merely smiles, an expression that moves her forehead not a centimeter. “I’ve been assured they’re eighteen and my face is thirty-five.”
“Your liver is still in its nineties, and it got there the hard way.” This is what we do. Sometimes I think she took a liking to me because I was willing to spar with her. In a weird way, it’s how she shows affection.
“My liver is eternal.” She raises her glass and then her gaze catches on Heath. And laser focuses in.
We’re in the danger zone now. Oh, yes, we’ve moved into that place where the world can explode because she’s caught the scent of something. I can see it in her eyes. She’s not sure what it is, but she senses something about the young man in front of her.
She looks back at me. “Is he yours?”
I feel the moment Heath’s hand finds my shoulder. It’s a plea. Save me from the sexual barracuda who has entered the pool.
As he saved me before, it’s a request I cannot refuse. I don’t even want to. I don’t want to think about the implications, but I don’t like the idea of Heath being one of CeCe’s pretty-boy conquests.
“Yes, he’s mine.” I say the words that will assure CeCe stays hands-off around Heath. CeCe plays by a set of very strict rules. Thou shalt not poach being one of them. I have tried to argue that one can’t poach a human being capable of making their own choices, but she doesn’t listen and honestly, in this case I think she’s right. “CeCe, this is Heath Marino. He’s a developer, and we’re working on something together. Heath, this is Cecelia Foust.”
“Darling, I’ll never remember his name,” CeCe assures me. “He’s your project. If he’s still around in a year or so, reintroduce us.”
“Hello, I’m right here,” Heath says.
“Thank you.” CeCe holds up Lady Buttercup. “Since you are here, hold my baby while I take Ivy on a walk around the garden, won’t you, dear? So many eyes here. There you go, baby. Is he all right or do you want to chew his face off?”
Heath is suddenly holding six pounds of judgmental show dog, and he looks super awkward doing it. “Uhm, I don’t really know a lot about dogs.”