Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
“Chloe,” I correct. “And I have no plans to marry into this family, Mrs. Steele. If I wasn’t clear enough earlier, I’m not here willingly. Derek has threatened me and held things over my head to get me where I am.”
Grace’s back straightens. She and Naomi exchange alarmed glances.
Mrs. Steele sips her beverage. “My apologies, Chloe. You remind me of my cousin Cleo. First of all, we must be extremely careful about the press and how we handle them. We’ll have you do an on-boarding session with our head of PR. If the press approaches you before then, please don’t engage. Tell them ‘no comment’.”
I blink a couple of times, absorbing how she just glazed over what I’ve said.
She goes on. “You’ll be photographed. Often. They look for unflattering photo ops considering you’ll be dating one of the coveted Steele bachelors, so if you do go out in public in sweats with a messy bun, expect to see it plastered all over social media. Also, everything you say, everything you do reflects on not just you but on us as well. Treat people well everywhere. Tip generously. Use table manners without fail. It won’t matter if you get shitty service, you’ll be judged on how you react to it. That server won’t be. You will be. So please don’t complain about poor service. Be mindful of your appearance at all times so you don’t wind up photographed by a bunch of paps who will glory in catching spinach in your teeth. You’ll get a full briefing as soon as my assistant can arrange it. Sometime this week. What religion are you? Tell me about your parents, please.”
I shake my head profusely. “Mrs. Steele, I’m afraid I don’t want anything to do with any of this. I’m only here because your son is–”
“Persistent, yes. I’m aware of how he can get when he gets his mind set on something. Like his father, there’s no dissuading him. We’re non-active, but if you don’t object, I’d prefer some sort of Christian denomination church. What church do your parents attend? Did you say they live in Ohio?”
I reach for a mimosa and take a healthy sip. Because I need it with what I’m about to say.
The Steele sisters are saying nothing, but they both appear fascinated by this conversation.
“Please forgive me if this sounds rude, but I’m not willing to discuss a church wedding because I’m not marrying your son. He’s not just being persistent. He’s bulldozed my entire life. He’s manipulated me into his apartment and his bed while making threats about bad things happening to people I care about if I refuse or disappoint him. He… I’m afraid he might need medical intervention. He’s been spying on me, stalking me.”
“So much like his father,” she mutters. “Though neither of them would ever admit how alike they are. Marcie?” she bellows abruptly, startling me.
The maid who took our coats earlier appears. “Yes, Mrs. Steele?”
“Please fetch me a bottle of champagne, will you?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Marcie slips out.
“We have mimosas already, mother,” Naomi says, sipping hers.
“They’re weak. Too much orange juice, not enough champagne.”
It’s barely noon! And she’s just glossed over everything I’ve just said to her.
I look at Naomi and shoot my shot.
“If multiple people sign him in for psychiatric observation, it could be helpful. He needs help.”
Naomi’s response is to drink from her mimosa, but her eyes don’t leave mine.
What is she trying to communicate?
Grace puts her hand on my knee, so I turn toward her.
“Chloe,” she says gently, “Derek is unique. He doesn’t process things the same way as the average person. He’s not easily dissuaded. With Derek, you have to finesse things to get him to see them your way. If you also tweak your expectations you’ll–”
I lean forward. “He should be put in jail for the things he’s done!”
My eyes dart to Shannon Steele. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Steele. I don’t mean to hamper your anniversary celebration but real talk here, Derek blackmailed me in some very not-nice ways. I don’t need a briefing on how to deal with the press or the public. I need you people to get him some help. He needs to be admitted for psychiatric evaluation. I won’t have to press charges if you help me handle things in a way that I know I’ll be safe. That the people I care about will be safe. That your son won’t be a danger to anybody.”
Marcie is back with a bucket holding a bottle of champagne and a male server follows with a tray of clean glasses.
“Put it all down,” Mrs. Steele says, irritated. “We’ve got this.”
They leave us with the table now quite crowded. Shannon tops off each of our glasses with champagne, mine overflowing until it spills on the beautiful rug that likely costs more than my Cherokee.