Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96752 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
“Lady Buttercup,” we all say in harmony.
CeCe’s overly privileged Maltese is definitely the queen of Manhattan.
“Though she should have rethought her name. Lady isn’t above queen. I know. I had to take a class and everything,” Anika says as we break up and she starts for the door. “I think I’m going to join the Dorsey brothers for some coffee. I don’t know why CeCe didn’t call her Queen Buttercup.”
“I think CeCe would say lady feels younger and cuter.” Ivy follows her. “She doesn’t want to give her dog a complex.”
“Uh, hello, queen here,” Anika jokes. “Harper, you coming?”
“Yes, because we have some things to talk about, bestie.” I can’t forget Reid and I have a common enemy now, and it’s probably time to declare war.
Anika sighs. “He told you.”
“He told me.”
Ivy frowns. “Told you what?”
“You know what—screw craft services. I love my mother, but this calls for mimosas,” Ani declares.
And we’re off.
Chapter Sixteen
“I can’t tell you.”
I bite back a groan, and Reid puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s odd how comforting that hand is. When we moved this meeting to the hotel across the street from Banover, Reid followed along, joined by his brother. I warned Ani that this is New York and seating a large party without reservations is damn near impossible, and then realized that kind of truth is for the normal people of the world as the maître d’ fawned all over her and assured her it was no problem to open a private dining room for us.
When Reid slid in next to me and his arm went around the back of my chair, I have to admit my heart did a fluttery thing. It was weird. And warm. I kind of liked it.
I turn to Ivy. “Do you know?”
Ivy shakes her head. “No. And I don’t think she does either. Not really. She knows the name, but I doubt she has a relationship with the person.”
“I can tell you it was purchased with cash, and the new owner sounds very British. At least her husband does. He’s the one I’ve been communicating with over the phone. She is strictly emails to me and Reid,” Anika explains. “And we had to sign nondisclosures. I think it’s either a celebrity who wants to do this under the radar or some royal. Maybe from the British royal family.”
“I thought she was doing it for her daughters.” I’m extremely confused as to why this is so hidden. Property records would have to be filed. “Can’t we look it up ourselves?”
“Technically the sale doesn’t go through until we’re finished, but the couple has been more than happy to pony up cash for some of the unexpected problems we’ve found.” Anika takes a sip of her mimosa. “The good news is the owners agreed to pay for the whole electrical fiasco. So Reid’s budget isn’t blown.”
A long sigh goes through my guy. “Thank you, rich people.”
Like he’s not one of them, but I’m grateful, too. “Excellent. I already put a call in to an expert. I sent him the full scale and he thinks he can have the whole place done in two to three weeks.”
Reid nods. “We can focus on the rooms he’s finished. There’s plenty to work on. Especially now that we’re building out three separate residences.”
It makes my heart hurt. “Does that mean what I think it means?”
Anika looks my way. “I told her the ballroom was nonnegotiable.”
The ballroom. The heart of entertaining for that magnificent home. But Reid’s right. It’s impractical for today. There are plenty of spaces for entertaining. No one throws grand balls anymore, and Anika needs this sale. It sounds like the owner is actually being helpful if they didn’t blink at 100K for electrical. I’ve known clients who would spend thousands and thousands on things like marble bathtubs and skylights and heated floors, but mention how much an HVAC unit costs and it’s like I’m trying to bleed them dry.
The truth is it’s not my house. “Ani, I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“I thought we were sticking together,” Reid whispers.
I turn to him, seeing him differently than I did before. This man held me all night. He didn’t have to. I certainly didn’t expect him to. The night before was a weird revelation that’s starting to sink in. “You honestly care about keeping the historical integrity of the ballroom?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I care that you care. I meant what I said. I’ll back your play.”
Damn it. He’s supposed to be an asshole. He is not supposed to make me tear up. I’m supposed to be questioning all of my choices.
I’m not supposed to lean over and kiss him in front of my friends like we’re together. He’s not supposed to make me feel all warm and gooey. He’s not supposed to utterly distract me from my goals.