“Exactly. So our strategy is: be stunning. Have fun. Don’t beThe Story.”
Be shiny. But quiet shiny.
Bea exhaled slowly. “Gage thinks I’ll be fine.”
“He’s not wrong. But even Gage can’t control everything. Not there.”
They stepped onto the patio where Naomi waved them over. Isabel was already mid-laugh. Lillian sat curled around a teacup, scarf tucked into her hair.
A platter ofpoffertjesand a half-eaten Dutch apple pie sat between them, the missing slices soft at the edges where the filling had run.
“Ladies,” Georgina declared, removing her sunglasses. “Our Bey is making her Summit debut.”
“Look at her all calm and glowy,” Isabel deadpanned. “Like she’s not about to enterThe Hunger Games: Billionaire Edition.”
Bea dropped into her seat. “How come none of you mentioned this last year?”
“You weren’t with Gage yet,” Georgie said, pragmatic. “The invite comes with him.”
“Translation,” Isabel said, glancing at Lillian, “you’re still safe.”
“Good,” Lillian said earnestly. “Sounds like my personal nightmare.”
Everyone believed her. Lillian struggled enough with the St. Ives crowd. The Harvest Summit was the one percent of the one percent. The upper crust of that crust—so elite they practically flaked.
“And you’re all going?” Bea confirmed with the other three.
“Obviously,” Naomi said, biting into a tiny, fluffy pancake. “It’s the best kind of awful.”
“Do you think it’s fun?” Bea tilted her head.
“There’s champagne at breakfast,” Naomi described. “Views that make you believe in the divine.”
“Footmen who materialize from flower gardens carrying warm olives,” Isabel added.
“You have to behave though,” Georgina warned. “No boyfriend mischief.”
“Zero sheet-shaking, Bey,” Naomi was quick to agree, head shaking like this was very important. “No matter how convincing he is.”
“Married or engaged couples get a suite. Everyone else—separate rooms,” Isabel said. “If he’s in your room for more than fifteen minutes, someone reports it. Usually a grandmother.”
“What if it’s the middle of the day?” Bea asked.
Naomi raised a brow. “Are you suggesting thatsunlightwould stop Gage King?”
Bea flushed.
“Exactly,” Georgina said. “My cousin has restraint, but let’s not test the theory. Keep the weekend PG. You never know who’s watching or listening.”
“So what’s thepointof the weekend?” Lillian asked.
“Networking, power, and evaluation.” Isabel lifted a finger with each word.
“In that order. First they figure out who you know. Then they test if you’re useful. Then they decide if you’re worthy,” Naomi expanded.
“Or dangerous. Which is better,” Georgina added. “Make it look easy, even when it isn’t. That’s how they know you belong.”
Bea groaned. “I’m going to die.”
