“Thank you, Josh,” Starling says sweetly.
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Lockwood,” Josh replies.
“PA?” Courtney asks sarcastically.
“Security,” Starling says, and I feel her eye roll even though I can’t see it.
“Sebastian is an important man,” Courtney says, turning her poisonous gaze on me.
“Oh, they’re my security. I’ve had them for years,” Starling says, like it’s no big deal, as she picks up her coffee and takes a sip, humming appreciatively. “Oh, that’s so good. But I wish I’d ordered a muffin,” Starling says, turning her head to boldly looktoward Tom, who is standing directly to my right. “Tom, would you mind going to grab me a blueberry muffin?”
Clearing his throat, he glances toward Courtney—who pointedly ignores him—then back to Starling. “Of course, Mrs. Lockwood.”
“Courtney, do you need another drink or a muffin?” Starling asks.
Now, without even glancing in Tom’s direction, Courtney shakes her head. “I’m good.”
Tom’s jaw twitches, but he keeps his expression neutral as he nods, then turns and heads into the coffee shop.
“So, how have you been? Tell me everything,” Starling says, her tone too upbeat, too happy, as she toys with the necklace around her neck, running her finger along the links then back again.
Courtney’s attention dips to the necklace, her lips pursing. “That’s a beautiful necklace.”
“Oh, thank you. Sebastian got it for me, he loves to spoil me,” my little bird says with a dramatic sigh as she turns and presses a kiss to my lips.
“That’s quite the gift. It’s Cartier, isn’t it?” she asks.
Starling shrugs, because truthfully, she has no idea where the jewelry I get her is from or how much it costs. Without even realizing, Starling’s acting like a Cartier necklace is nothing special, although I doubt she’d be as nonchalant if she knew how much it cost.
“Seriously, how have you been? Are you still living on campus?” Starling asks, leaning her chin on her fist.
“Oh, yes, I’ve been in Livingstone House since I was a freshman, although I’m looking into an off-campus property because the college scene is getting a little old.”
“Honestly, moving off campus was the best thing we’ve done. It’s so much nicer having your own space,” Starling gushes. “You should come and see our house, you’d love it.”
“Your house,” Courtney chokes, trying to make it seem like a cough.
“Oh my god. I have the best idea. Skip your afternoon classes and let’s go back to ours. It’s on the beach. We can have some drinks and lay out by the pool. It’ll be so much fun.”
Courtney’s eyes are so wide, she looks like she’s going to be sick. The timing couldn’t be more perfect as Tom returns with Starling’s muffin on a plate. Unable to mask his expression, he starts to move toward Courtney, concern etched across his features.
“Oh, Tom, thank you so much,” Starling says, turning fully to look at him and stopping him from moving mid-step.
Clearly unsure what to do, Tom’s eyes dart between the woman he’s pretending not to know and Starling.
“James,” Starling calls, turning to look at her main bodyguard and, as of recently, driver. “Courtney is going to come home with us. We’re in the two-seater, but you have room for her in the SUV, don’t you?” she asks too sweetly.
We haven’t told James about his nephew’s betrayal, partly because there is a concern that he might have known about Tom’s agenda, but also because when we ruin Tom’s life, it’s important that the destruction is never linked back to us.
James’s eyes narrow a little as he assesses Starling. He’s spent a lot of time with her in the last few weeks, and he knows that her behavior right now isn’t normal. He knows her routine and is aware that not only is she finishing her degree online, but that beyond visiting her therapist and occasionally doing a little shopping, she rarely leaves the estate and only ever socializes with Bunny, January, and Sammy.
I’d guess right now, he’s probably wondering what the hell is going on and why my beautiful wife is acting like a vapid, spoiled princess, but instead of commenting on it or questioning her, he merely nods. “Of course, Mrs. Lockwood.”
Smiling, I silently remind myself to give him a raise once we’re one hundred percent confident that he is clueless to his nephew’s treachery.
“This is perfect. We can have a proper visit and catch up on everything that’s been happening in the last couple of years. There’s also some beautiful property for sale in our neighborhood. Imagine if you bought one, we could hang out all the time,” Starling says, so enthusiastically she sounds like she just got gifted a car by Oprah.
“Baby, could you message Armand and ask him to make lunch for us? Some salads and maybe some sushi,” Starling asks me.
