Page 53 of Save Me
“Your boutique Wolf hotel in France.” I can’t help but laugh. These rich people have no concept of budgets and responsibilities. “Yeah. Maybe one day.”
“Sloane isn’t impressed by my luxury hotel chain,” Henry says smoothly. “She much prefers the comfort of her colorful little mobile homes.”
I grind my molars as I try to decipher what he means. Is that his sophisticated way of calling me trailer trash?
Abbi’s frown his way says she’s wondering the same.
Margo says something in French that I obviously don’t understand, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand it’s about me, her eyes grazing over me while she speaks.
Henry’s jaw clenches through a sip of his wine, and then he confidentially rattles something back, his French almost as smooth as hers.
They toss words back and forth.
“I hate it when they do this,” Abbi mutters through a sip of her fake wine.
“Do they do this a lot?” It’s beyond rude.
“Every time they’re together.”
I reach for my glass and then remember that I can’t have any, so I veer for the last of my lavender water. If there was ever a night to inhale booze, tonight would have been it.
Margo asks another question in her native tongue.
“No,” Ronan answers before Henry can and then flips into French, his tone calm but his face stony.
I blink in surprise. So Ronan speaks French. Anotherthing I didn’t know about the guy. There areso manythings I don’t know about him.
Margo reaches up to toy with the ends of Ronan’s hair at his nape while she answers him. It’s an intimate move.
My jealousy burns. Is she hitting on him, right in front of me? Or is this how they always are?
A darker thought enters my mind almost immediately.
Have Ronan and Margo slept together?
“Joel and Margo have been dating for years,” Abbi says, as if reading my mind and gifting reassurances. It does little to ease my concern, though.
Ronan takes a lengthy sip of his wine, and then he says something back to her. After a beat, Margo slides her hand away from him. “It would please me greatly to see you at my chateau one day. Both of you.” She caps that off with a coy smile for me, one that holds many secrets.
I think I hate Margo Lauren.
Idefinitelywant her far away from Ronan.
The waitstaff files out of the kitchen then, their arms laden with the first course.
“I suppose now is as good a time as any.” Henry taps his wineglass with his fork, the telltale dinging sounds drawing a hush as he stands. “Good evening, everyone. Abigail and I would like to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate the new Mermaid Beach location. After fiveverylong years with more than one hiccup along the way”—his gaze darts to me so quickly I doubt anyone notices—“we finally open the doors to patrons this weekend?—”
“What are we if not patrons? The pig’s arse?” Preston hollers, earning a round of laughs.
“If we don’t have your credit card on file, you don’t count,” Henry throws back smoothly.
“But theydohave yours, so cheers to that.” The obnoxious Brit lifts his glass in a toast, and several others follow suit.
Henry smirks. “On that note, let’s raise a glass to William Wolf.”
Everyone reaches for their glass, forcing me to do the same or become the petty asshole refusing to toast a dead guy.
“He was the true visionary behind this place. He purchased this land decades ago with nothing more than anticipation. The only mistake he made was not getting his hands on more of it, back when it was easier to do so.”
