Page 31 of Beautiful Revenge
He smirks as he puts the finishing touches on an espresso martini. “Seems guests drink up no matter whether the couple saysI door not.”
“They don’t need an excuse. Speaking of, I’m going to check on the Madison woman.”
“Good luck with that,” he mutters.
What I don’t say is I’ll need it after what I found out today.
Harlow settles back into her seat and stares out at the lake. We’re in the transition hour. The sun is gone, but the stars aren’t out yet. I don’t look around, greet anyone, or take in how packed it is for dinner on a Sunday night.
I can’t take my eyes off Harlow as I approach her.
I come to a stop next to her table and slide my hands in my pockets. “How was the special?”
Harlow jerks before she turns. “You startled me.”
“Did you like the risotto?”
She shifts in her chair and ignores my question. “Are you in the habit of sneaking up on people? I need to know so I can prepare—since we’re roomies.”
I motion to the empty seat across from her. “May I?”
“It’s your establishment.”
I pull out the chair to sit and motion toward her empty bowl that’s been wiped clean with bread. I happen to know this since I’ve turned into a creepy-ass stalker. “You approve?”
“As you can tell, it was horrid. I could barely choke down every smooth bite. So much so, I might have to try it again next week just to contemplate how bad it really was.”
I hike a brow. “That’s going to suck for my chef when I have to fire her.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “You should give her the benefit of another chance.”
“I suppose she deserves that. I did hire her away from a MICHELIN Star restaurant in Los Angeles. I was hoping to make the guide eventually, but we apparently have to up our game.”
“Give it the old American go. You’ll get there.”
I tip my head a fraction. “Have you always been such a skilled liar?”
She licks her lips before picking up her wine to take a sip. “I used to lie to Janie about the trouble my friends and I got into in high school. That’s been a while.”
“So you were a troublemaker.”
She swirls the wine in her glass and shakes her head. “No. I was boring as hell in high school.”
I lean forward. “So you were good but lied about being bad?”
She shrugs. “I wanted to see if Janie cared. Really, I was hell-bent to prove that shedidn’t. And I was right. She didn’t give a shit what I did. She’d tell me not to get caught, and by all means not to get pregnant, because that would embarrass her. That’s all she cared about. She’d be wallowing deep in shameful humiliation right now because I didn’t walk down the aisle if she didn’t have more pressing things to kill her reputation.”
“Ah, yes. The rat bastard you left at the altarandyour missing father.”
She hikes a brow. “I like that.”
I lift my chin. “You’re a savage woman.”
She leans forward and lowers her voice. “Not about my father. The rat bastard. From now on, that’s how I’ll refer to Albert—the rat bastard. The English always have a way with words. If I’m really feeling it, I’ll add abloodyto his new nickname.”
“I have a feeling everyone knows who Albert Humphries really is. His type of rat bastard deserves to be elevated to bloody.”
She almost slumps in her skin. Gone is the teasing about risotto and the Britishisms. I’m not sure if she looks more tired or relieved. “It makes me feel good that others see it too. Not that I need validation from anyone. I’d go through it all over again if it means I’m done with him forever.”
