Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
I had never heard of Devon Quentin or his wife, Francesca, but I could tell from Lucian’s tone that they were very important people. I felt weirdly self-conscious at the thought of meeting them with crappy clothes on and not a single scrap of makeup on my face.
“You’ve come up with a deal with him, then?” I pushed. “He wants to form an alliance?”
“Yes, indeed he wants to form an alliance. There are plenty of my assets and associations that he finds very attractive. They should partner up very well with his.” He paused. “And very well with some of his other connections’ assets too. As I said, we have many things to discuss.”
I checked out an obvious question. “They should partner up better with yours than with your father’s assets and associations, then?”
“This is the beautiful thing, Elaine,” he told me. “My father hasn’t been running the Morelli empire for years, not truly. People have been dealing with me, singing to my tune, dancing whatever dance I want them to dance. Stepping onto British soil and taking control of a new empire isn’t all that difficult a task. I should have realized that the very moment we stepped off the plane.”
My head was still spinning, not quite sure what the hell to make of it, other than that Lucian Morelli was truly stamping his foot on London, and people were listening. We were headed to a British country manor, with some posh-sounding VIPs, sitting in the back of a limo I only assumed could be theirs.
I sat back in my seat, letting my mind slow down, because there was something strangely comforting about doing that—letting the world twirl around me with Lucian taking the lead. I was tired from all the traveling. Still exhausted at the chaos.
I snuggled up closer to him and he didn’t say much else, just kept holding my hand as I rested my head on his shoulder. I enjoyed the rumble of the open highway as the city eased off around us, the night slowly darkening to twilight. We were traveling for over an hour before the limo pulled off the main road onto a huge sprawling driveway.
Wow, yes, it was impressive.
There were perfectly sculptured trees lining each side of the drive, and the backdrop waiting for us up ahead was a perfect rich glow of gold from the blaze of window lights.
The people who lived here were most definitely, definitely of our ilk.
The limo swung around a fountain and pulled up directly outside the main manor entrance. Lucian helped me out of the back seat once the driver opened the door for us and I stared around admiring the sheer size of the place. It certainly had wings.
A man arrived at the top of the front steps and welcomed us inside. The hallway was cream and huge, with stairs twisting up on either side. Whoa, I felt more self-conscious than ever being so underdressed here. The estate housekeeping staff would be dressed more stylishly than I would in this outfit.
“Mr. Quentin will be with you soon,” the butler said, and Lucian tipped his head in acknowledgement.
My fingers were twiddling but I couldn’t stop them. I felt anything like Elaine Constantine as I waited for our host to arrive to greet us.
We didn’t have to wait very long.
“Lucian!” the guy exclaimed, in an uber posh British accent, and he had a rich boy smile on his face as he paced on down through the hallway to meet us, shaking Lucian’s hand in a business-style grasp. “I’m so pleased to have you stay.”
I felt shy. Like a silly little girl, out of place.
The guy was tall and broad, in his late forties, minimum. His hair was dark, and his beard was well trimmed, and he was dressed in tweed.
“This is Elaine,” Lucian said to the guy, introducing me. “Elaine, baby, this is Devon.”
“Hello, Devon,” I said, making sure my own voice was as posh as it should be. “Thank you for having us.”
That’s when another set of footsteps arrived and the guy called Devon gestured our attention behind him, looking proud.
“Lucian, Elaine, this is my wife, Francesca. Francesca, this is Lucian and Elaine.”
Holy hell, Francesca was a picture. She was stunning. Absolutely damn stunning. Red hair curled just fine. Scarlet lips and a scarlet dress to match, her smile perfect white in a way that lit up her whole perfect face.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said, and took my hand.
I was grinning bright, unbelievably relieved in that moment to see another woman with a girly smile.
“Pleased to meet you, too,” I said, and let them welcome us into their home.
Yes. It was true. We belonged there, in the richness and the prestige and the glamor.
We were Lucian Morelli and Elaine Constantine, and we truly belonged in this world.