Page 9 of Beautiful Revenge
It’s a good thing I’m a trained operative and know how to keep my cool. I need every ounce of it at the moment, and still, the best I can come up with is, “I’m sorry. What?”
That came out more clipped than I meant for it to. Operative or not, I’m not trained for bridal drama.
“You heard me. I’m not getting married today.” She brings her hands to her earlobe and continues doing what she’s done since the moment I stepped into the penthouse—stripping off her accessories. When both ears are free from the big-ass diamonds, I have no choice but to take them because she shoves them into my other hand. “And return these with the letter. They were a gift from Albert’s mother.They’re ostentatious and gaudy, just like her. I never want to see them again.”
“Harlow—” I start, but the woman continues to get un-ready for the big event that’s about to thrust my business into the spotlight, but not the way I had planned.
Hell, this is the opposite of what I planned. I thought I prepared for every hiccup that comes with weddings. But this was not on the list.
Her hands come to her hair as she starts to pull pins out left and right. “I’m sorry to put you in this position. I promise you’ll be paid for every expense. I’ll even make sure Stonebridge compensates you for the extra trouble. I get that you didn’t sign up for this. If my father’s company is good for anything, it’s fixing problems with money. I can promise you no more drama after this weekend.”
I stand here like a dumbfounded bloke holding enormous diamonds and a breakup note.
I do the only thing I can think to do—talk some sense into her. “What can I do to help you work through this? Maybe you should just take a breath?—”
A single, sarcastic, high-pitchedhabursts from Harlow’s lungs. I get the first view of her other than the in-control, stick-up-the-arse American Princess I thought she was. “Is that the English way of telling me torelax?Because if so, Devon, I can promise you, I’m the least relaxed woman on the planet right now. I haven’t been for the last six weeks. So if you are unable or unwilling to deliver that letter and those diamonds to the asshole standing at the altar, I’ll find someone who will.”
I slide the diamonds in my trousers pocket so I can hold my hand out. “Let’s take it down a notch. I told you I’d be here for whatever you needed, though I thought I’d be helping you get married, not helping you cancel your wedding. I may be a fish out of water here, but if you don’t want to get married today, no one’s going to force you to.”
She turns back as her thick blond hair falls in one wave after another down her back. “Oh, as soon as Albert gets that note, he’ll try.”
For someone who doesn’t ever give two shits about other people’s business so long as it isn’t a threat to nationalsecurity, curiosity claws at me. I’d sacrifice a mundane royal secret or two to read herDear Johnnote.
“Are you sure about this?” I press. The last thing I need is to march through a throng of guests straight to the groom only for her to have a change of heart.
When she turns back to me, there’s no question. This woman knows what she wants.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life. If you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”
I drag a hand down my face and curse my family once again for convincing me this place would be a path to a new life. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Yes. I need the code changed for the penthouse suite. I don’t want Albert Humphries, or anyone related to him, anywhere near me ever again.”
I exhale and don’t pretend I’m not at my wits end. I thought being the bride’s assistant was bad. Being dragged into a lover’s spat was not on my list of shit to complain about today.
“I’ll be back to check on you. You have my number in case you change your mind … again,” I mutter.
For the first time since I walked into her penthouse, Harlow Madison looks relieved. “Thank you.”
Her response is sincere and earnest. But more than anything, she bleeds relief.
I need to get this shit done and deal with the tsunami that’s about to hit. I thought Janie Madison was a royal bitch last night. I can’t imagine what’s in store for me the rest of the day.
The moment I’m out of her suite and the door shuts behind me, I stop and open the stationary.
Well then.
The handwritten note from Harlow Madison to her very much ex-fiancé is clear.
She’s done.
What’s not clear is why.
“Fuck.”
CHAPTER THREE
CHAMPAGNE FOR EVERYONE
