Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
“Pax?” Winston Somerset’s voice broke me out of my past and brought me into the present. “I really think—”
“Pardon me,” I said quickly, trying to smile. “Sometimes I get caught up thinking about something for a second.”
He squinted at me, the concern there in those furrowed brows and dark eyes. “You—”
“Your daughter and I were talking, and she told me she was going to the movies or something with her friends, and I said that was great, but that she should rethink her outfit.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“The weather,” I rushed out. “I assured her that it was much too cold for that dress.”
“It’s too everything for that dress,” he asserted with a scowl before taking a step closer and bending so that his mouth was near my ear. “She wasn’t taking one step outside this house in it. I’m better at my job than that.”
“Of course you are,” I replied, stepping sideways, smiling at him. His proximity had made my stomach clench painfully. “I didn’t mean to imply that—”
“Calm down,” he said off-handedly, and instead of bristling like I normally did—not being a fan of any of those words that belittled someone else’s feelings, calm down, take it easy, chill out—I took it how he probably meant it. I was apologizing, and he was saying it wasn’t necessary. “All I meant to convey was that I appreciated you looking out for her.”
I took a breath so my voice stayed level. “It was my pleasure, sir.”
He walked away then as the newest socialite he was escorting around town was signaling for him, and when I turned for the kitchen, Dumont was there barring my path.
“What the fuck were you doing?” he blasted me, irritated—and slightly buzzed, given the whisper of slur in his voice as well as the sharpness of his tone.
And I would have responded, but Janelle appeared on the opposite side of the room, in leggings tucked into white Ugg boots, an oversize angora sweater, a chunky infinity scarf, and a beanie. All she needed was a parka and she’d be ready to scale Everest. But she looked good for winter in Chicago too.
“Well?” he growled at me.
I tipped my head, and when he glanced over to where I directed him, he did a double take. The way the color drained from his face was fun to see. If the scene were in a movie, people would have jeered at the screen.
“Oh shit,” choked out his friend, whom I didn’t know—he didn’t work at the firm—as he joined us, hand on Dumont’s shoulder. “The hell, man, how old is that girl?”
“Seventeen,” I offered, staring at them.
“Sonofabitch,” the friend croaked, sounding scared. He gave me a quick clap on the bicep. “Thanks, man, you’re a fuckin’ lifesaver. That was good lookin’ out.”
As though I’d saved him and not her. “Maybe ask for ID next time,” I replied snidely.
He coughed, turned on his heel, and darted over to a group of women who were definitely in his age bracket.
“Fuck,” Dumont groaned.
I moved to leave him.
“Wait.” He stepped in front of me. “You have to believe me. If I’d known that girl was underage, I would have never bothered her.” If he wasn’t actually horrified, his acting was damn impressive. His coloring alone—that had changed from gray to a pale, sickly green—told the tale. The man had definitely thought she was over the age of consent. “I have a niece who’s seventeen,” he almost whimpered.
I had a stray thought about what Janelle said—I would have to tell her that the girl in her class was Dumont’s niece, not his daughter.
“Oh God, I’m gonna be sick.”
“Don’t throw up on the hardwood,” I cautioned. “I think Mr. Somerset, and definitely the heiress he’s dating at the moment, are worried that some of us aren’t house-trained.”
He nodded.
“Have you noticed that some people look older than they really are, and some younger,” I said innocently as the front door opened and Janelle’s high school friends spilled in. Four girls and two boys, all of them dressed for arctic exploration, all looking so very, very young. “Maybe, like your buddy, you should check ID going forward,” I suggested helpfully.
When Janelle waved at me, I smiled back, and then, to poor Dumont’s horror, she gestured her friends close. It wasn’t even necessary to hear the conversation in the small huddle, as all eyes were on him as she related her tale. There were squeals of revulsion, faces scrunched up in disgust, and a resounding gross. One girl even mouthed the words but he’s so old! As a man in his prime, on the prowl, the blow to his ego had to be devastating.
“It could be worse,” I placated him as he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead into his hand. “You could have given her a drink or suggested that she go home with you.”