There’s a phone by the hostess stand. I noticed it when we came in. I can head to the bathroom then crouch behind the wall to screen the servers from the dining room. I bet there’s a side door to get into the service side of the hotel. I saw them in the kitchen taking room service out another exit. I’ll duck out, call the police, tell them that Graham freaking Richmond kidnapped me and has my dog and my phone prisoner. Then I’ll be back home on my couch-bed this evening.
“Danielle! Is that you, dear?”
“Mrs. Prescott.” I stand up abruptly. A cloud of Chanel No. 5 envelops me as she leans in for an air kiss.
“My word, you look a state. Your mother did say she thought you were acting rather odd lately.”
“Sorry, worked all night,” I tell her, tugging at my pants.
“Did you? Whatever for?” She taps me lightly. “Forget that office-girl nonsense. You need to marry that billionaire that you finally decided to bring out into the open and live your life of luxury.”
“Oh, Bitsy.” Mrs. Goodwin comes out of the restroom. “It’s the twenty-first century—women should have their own money.Don’t be reliant on a man, Dani, even one as good-looking as Graham Richmond. Besides, he’s a self-made man. He doesn’t want a mooch,” she says pointedly to Mrs. Prescott.
It’s a snub. Mrs. Prescott’s daughter is a stay-at-home wife, while Mrs. Goodwin’s daughter works at Van de Berg Insurance.
“It’s a bit different when one’s husband is a billionaire and not a salaried VP.”
Oof. Shot off the port side. Mrs. Prescott married into big pharma money. Mrs. Goodwin’s mouth flattens.
“The Summer Harbor Garden Charity Party is this April,” Mrs. Prescott reminds me. “Now, I know you and your parents are going, and your mother bought an extra ticket since Colette said you were seeing someone. I assured her it was refundable, of course, since you don’t like to listen to gossip.”
“No need—” I squawk out.
“No need indeed!” She nods approvingly. “And don’t forget to tell your Graham that there’s a charity auction. We’re taking credit cards now.”
“Thank you for the reminder. We’re looking forward to it.”
“Oh, and Danielle.” Mrs. Prescott’s voice lowers. “Saks has some lovely dresses out from some new designers.” She gives me a pointed look.
I nod. “Yep. I’ve heard from my mother.”
“Well, she’s right, dear. If that man is dragging you out to breakfast with his family after you worked all night, you should have him buy you something nice.”
“I’ll be sure to wear a new hat and sundress.”
“Whatever you feel most comfortable in, dear. Ta-ta!”
My teeth grind as I crouch down and peer over the ferns into the dining room. Mrs. Goodwin and Mrs. Prescott are talking to Mrs. Thornton, who was in a sorority with Colette’s and my moms—and oh look, she’s on her phone. Great. In twenty minutes, everyone on the Upper East Side is going to thinkI’ve been dating Graham Richmond and have been keeping it a secret for some weird reason.
Mom is going to be pissed when she realizes I lied about dating and that I got kidnapped by him instead.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
What am I going to do?
I mean, I can’t let them know I’m single, that’s for sure. So I just need to find a fake boyfriend to show up after my dramatic kidnapping rescue and say he’s been so worried about me and he loves me and he’ll never let me out of his sight.
I chew on my lip. Aside from the obvious problem of, you know, finding this mythical boyfriend, how am I going to explain to everyone why I told Mrs. Goodwin and Mrs. Prescott I was dating Graham if he kidnapped me?
Ugh! Why am I such a people pleaser?
“Ma’am?” one of the servers asks me.
Great. Now I’ve graduated to “ma’am” and still no boyfriend.
“I promise I didn’t have too much to drink,” I tell him, standing up and dusting off my pants. “This isn’t what it looks like. See? Sober.”
Another lie.
