“My wife.” He sighs. “She thinks the assistant might be being used.”
“Doesn’t seem to me like that’s your problem.”
“My thought as well. But…”
“Amandine’s too sweet to know any better.”
The small noise he makes says he agrees. “Don’t worry. You know me and keeping my enemies close. She won’t be getting away with this.”
I feel almost sorry for the assistant. Gavin can be…over the top at times.
“Amandine wants to meet your wife, by the way. Have you guys over for dinner.”
“Why?”
“Probably curious. Ryder, and now you? Something’s going on.”
“Oh jeez. We’re just settling down, no big deal.”
“Precisely. She wants to meet the woman who finally made you settle down. It’s one thing for Ryder, but you? Amandine was certain you’d die a bachelor.”
I snort a laugh. “It’s nothing. Really.” Just dangle a million dollars in front of a desperately poor young woman, and she’ll marry anyone, even an asshole like me.
“So, dinner?”
“Amandine shouldn’t.” I don’t know how my wife would react to a social event like this.
Gavin predictably ignores me, since his focus is on making his wife happy. “I’ll have Hilary send you a few possibilities.”
“She still works for you, huh?”
“Yes.” Gavin sounds aggravated. “Her husband is trying to get her to quit though.”
“Aren’t you guys best friends?”
“If he keeps it up, we won’t be.”
This time my laugh is genuine. “Bros before hos.”
Gavin snorts. “Don’t let Mark hear you say that or you’ll never eat in his restaurants again.”
We hang up. I swivel my chair and stare out the window at the city.
Actually, accepting Amandine’s invitation might not be such a bad idea. I remember how my wife didn’t have anyone to invite to our dinner. I doubt she’s had the time or mental energy to make friends in L.A. Amandine is a great woman and—more importantly—didn’t come from money. My wife might find that more approachable—a common point for both of them.
Maybe talking with Gavin’s rubbing off on me, but I want my wife to be happy.
Chapter Four
Annabelle
The Fourth Avenue Café where Elizabeth wants to meet is locally owned. The name doesn’t make any sense—the place isn’t on Fourth Avenue—but that doesn’t matter. According to online reviews, they serve good coffee and scones.
The interior is bright with recessed lights and sunshine coming in through glass walls. The dark ceiling fans create a lovely breeze, and the rich smell of brewing coffee permeates everything.
I grab a hot herbal tea and spot Elizabeth in a corner booth sipping coffee. She’s in a pink dress so pale it almost looks white. Her expertly applied makeup is nude, making her appear even more ethereal. She’s let her hair curl around her shoulders and cascade down her slim back. She’s such a natural beauty that I don’t
understand why she hasn’t become a model or an actress like her brother Ryder. Those cheekbones alone would bring her millions.