In an elegant evening dress with a crystal glass of bourbon, she looks me up and down.
“Yes?” I ask, my tone far from pleasant.
You get what you give, and Victoria’s all judgmental, entitled vibes.
“I wondered why you didn’t bother to show up for dinner. Have you something better do to?”
“Work,” I reply drily because I’m sure Addie’s already told everyone I’ll be late, but it looks like Victoria still decided to check our stories match. “I’ll be downstairs as soon as I can.”
She tilts her chin, looking uncomfortable as she stands in the corridor. No way I’ll invite her into the suite.
“I’ve been married to a workaholic for thirty years, Colt. I know better than to trust your word.” Pinching her lips, she clears her throat. “Very well, I would’ve preferred to do this in front of everyone, but as you’re so...busy, I have no choice but to thank you here.”
“Thank me?”
“Obviously. While I don’t care for your crude methods, rude tone, or choice of words, you did help Audrey cross the bridge safely. Contrary to what she thinks, and undoubtedly told you, I care about my daughter, so... thank you.”
Well, well, well, so she does have a shred of decency.
Who knew? Not me.
“No need to thank me.”
She nods, her features softening. “Then let me give you a piece of advice instead. You’re certainly not my favorite person, but you’ve proved today that my daughter’s important to you. Unfortunately, Audrey’s been finding ways to defy me for years. Moving to California, her degree, those animals she adopts, and now...you. You’re genuinely invested, maybe falling in love, but don’t get your hopes up. You’re nothing more than a means to an end.”
Not waiting for my reply, she gives me a pitiful look, turns, and marches off, every move gracious and confident, her long navy dress swishing around her ankles.
Words crowd the tip of my tongue, begging to be let out, but starting an argument with Victoria Weston seems counterproductive. It’s not like I could change her mind, so what’s the point in trying?
Wasted effort.
Closing the door with a quiet click, I almost break my leg sprinting across the suite to my ringing phone. Ten minutes later, when the conversation ends and everything’s sorted, I’m finally free to enjoy the last hours of my unplanned vacation.
I leave my phone on the balcony table before heading down the corridor toward the staircase up to the main deck. Hushed voices halt me in my tracks at the end, and I immediately recognize Addie’s resigned tone.
“I don’t want to marry him, Dad,” she sighs, clearly embarrassed about something because her voice has that squeaky quality it always does when she’s ashamed. “Mom ignores everything I say,” she continues. “I thought if I showed up with a boyfriend, she’d stop insisting on Grant.”
A cool sweat breaks out on my back. She’s lasted aweekplaying pretend, and this is when she breaks?
I can’t see her, but I can tell she’s at the bottom of the stairs, voice hush-hush and soft like she doesn’t want anyone to overhear. She should’ve hid in the library or the conference room downstairs.
“I figured it out the moment your mother told me you weren’t coming alone,” Henry says, sounding amused.
“What? How?”
“I know you, sweetheart. I know you hate Grant, I know your mother drives you insane, and I know you’ve told me about every boyfriend you’ve ever had... just not Colt. It all smelled fishy from the start.”
“I’m sorry I lied... I didn’t think it through,” she chuckles, but there’s nothing happy in that sound. It’s like she quit, like she’s so fucking over this whole situation.
I have the urge to fly downstairs and hide her in my arms. I also have the urge to bend her over my lap and spank her ass for not giving me a heads-up about spilling her guts. It’ll be hard saving face in front of her father now.
“So?” Henry urges, his boots shifting on the polished floor. “Is it just Grant you don’t want to marry, or don’t you plan on getting married at all?” He waits for a reply, but she’s silent. “I’m glad Grant won’t end up my son-in-law, Audrey, but I don’t think you should put a cross through the institution altogether.”
Another long, tense pause that has my palms sweating.
“It’s not got much that speaks in its favor,” she finally says. “All the married women I know are miserable. I don’t want a husband, Dad. I want to finish school and open a veterinary clinic. A safe place for abandoned injured animals. I want to travel the world and make my own choices.”
Her words drop on me like a guillotine. My chest constricts. The date, my future plans, the hope I felt when I held her in my arms two hours ago, the feelings infecting my system... it all dies a sad death. My dreams brutally severed.
