Chapters (23)
- Cover
- Praise for the
- Titles by Lexi Blake
- Dedication
- prologue
- chapter one
- chapter two
- chapter three
- chapter four
- chapter five
- chapter six
- chapter seven
- chapter eight
- chapter nine
- chapter ten
- chapter eleven
- chapter twelve
- chapter thirteen
- chapter fourteen
- epilogue
- acknowledgments
- about the author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
“Yeah, my mom is way more interested in the chardonnay.” Sylvie heard the doorbell chime and stood, picking up Lady. “I think that’s a great idea, but are you sure you want to drive?”
Cricket stood as well, her shoulders in a prideful pose. “I do. I’m taking my life back. It’s a lovely day and I shouldn’t have to worry about traffic. It’s the perfect time to get some of my freedom back. Now, you should start trying on some clothes. I suggest finding a bag that doubles as a shield of some sort. You’re going to need it with Roberta.”
“Ma’am, there’s a delivery,” the housekeeper announced. “I told them to bring it up here.”
As her room started to fill up, Sylvie hoped clothes were all she needed to get through the next few days.
She held Lady and let herself smile as the Louboutins started to stack up. “All right. Let’s call Sera and Hallie and have a fun afternoon. What do you say? And no chewing on the shoes.”
She let go of her worries for a while.
* * *
Rene looked down at his cell and smiled. Sylvie had sent him a picture of Lady sitting in a sea of designer boxes.
She had taken the day off after working long hours, and he wished he’d been able to be there to watch her try on the clothes the shopper had picked for her. He’d found a woman with exquisite taste.
He was still smiling down when the phone buzzed. That was when his smile fled, but he slid his finger across the screen to answer. “Hello, Aunt Roberta. Did you get in all right?”
“Are you asking if the drive to this hellhole of a town went without a hitch? Of course it didn’t. First of all, your cousin can’t drive. Whoever signed off on her license should be fired. I will be making my complaints to the DMV as soon as I get home, and I assure you it will not be with that nincompoop of a girl.”
He winced. He’d let himself be talked into paying Ashley to fly to Houston and drive Roberta back since she would not fly in what she called a “pressurized metal tube filled with bacteria.”
He should have known better, but her brother Gabriel had basically begged him. Her job hunt wasn’t going well and he was worried about her.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t pleasant. I’ll find you another driver on the way home.” He hesitated to ask the next question. “How is the room?”