“Don’t need another attempted murder to ruin the vibe.” Her smile is light and carefree, but her eyes turn dark. Turbulent.
“As long as your father won’t be a problem.” I take her hand, holding it up so I can study what she’s wearing. The dress is long and floral printed, reminding me of the dress she wore to Whit’s wedding. Though this one is lighter. Airier. It nips in at the waist, making her look so small. Waifish. Her hair is up, revealing her elegant neck, and she’s wearing a simple gold chain around it, with no other jewelry. Her lips are slicked with a light pink that matches the tone of her dress, her skin glowing with health. The sun bathes her in golden light, her gilded cheeks sharp. A Lancaster through and through.
She’s beautiful. Regal. And all mine. I’m filled with the sudden urge to fall to one knee and ask her to marry me. I don’t have a ring. I don’t have anything to offer her but myself and my love. And my name. I don’t want her to be a Lancaster any longer.
I want her to be a Donato. Like me.
More than that, I want her to belong to me. So I can tell the world that this beautiful woman is all mine.
“He won’t be a problem,” she says, her sweet voice confusing me for a moment.
Oh, right. She’s talking about her father.
“He doesn’t want anything to do with her, just like me,” she continues as she glides about the terrace, stopping at the outdoor couch and fluffing the already-fluffed pillows. “Do you think it looks good out here?”
I go to her. “It looks beautiful.” Slipping my arms around her waist, I pull her into me, pressing my mouth to hers briefly. “Almost as beautiful as you.”
Her cheeks turn the faintest pink and she gently shoves me away. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“I only speak the truth.”
Her gaze snags on me and we stare at each other for a long, heavy moment, emotions swirling between us. “I feel like this is some sort of coming out.”
“For you? You never did go the debutante route.”
She slowly shakes her head. “I was a disaster waiting to explode. No way would my mother allow me to debut.”
Her expression is pained, and I know it’s because she mentioned her mother. I hate how that woman pops up in conversation all the time.
Sylvie has no clue, but I’ve had an extensive background check done on Sylvia Lancaster, and most of what I’ve discovered only makes me hate the woman even more. She’s a nightmare. No wonder Augustus had multiple affairs. Yes, he’s a philanderer, but he was only trying to escape Sylvia’s clutches.
It’s like everyone in her immediate family did exactly that. Whit defied her every chance he got. Carolina ran away at an early age. Only Sylvie stuck around, and I think that’s because she believed she had no other choice.
“The party starts in what…in thirty minutes?” I ask, whipping my phone out of my pants pocket. “Make that twenty.”
“Oh God.” She starts rushing around, her movements frantic. “I need to go talk to the caterers.”
She dashes into the apartment before I have a chance to say anything, headed for the kitchen. I follow after her, answering the door when I hear a knock, to find Whit and Summer standing in front of me, Summer wearing a pink dress similar to Sylvie’s.
“Is there a dress code?” I ask as they enter the apartment.
“She asked that we wear pink.” Summer points at her husband. “He didn’t follow orders.”
“I never do. Where’s the fun in that?” He undoes the button of his jacket, revealing his pristine white shirt beneath. “Where’s your suit?”
I’m in a polo shirt and jeans. “I was helping set up.”
Whit’s gaze is sharp. “You better change then.”
“And we’re wearing suits on a Saturday because why?” I shake my head, though I’m definitely going to indulge my woman. If she wants us clad in suits and the ladies in dresses, then that’s what she’ll get.
“Because it’s fun!” Summer calls after me as I head for the bedroom, and I can hear Whit mutter something rude.
By the time I’ve changed into the proper attire fit for a tea party/luncheon, more people have arrived. The terrace is full, and I spot Monty standing at the bar, wearing a pink velvet suit, that tall guy who was Sylvie’s date at Whit and Summer’s wedding standing beside him.
I head outside and straight for Monty and Cliff, nodding and smiling at people as I pass by them, noting how Sylvie is the queen holding court, sitting in a chair and clutching a delicate umbrella to ward off the warm sun.
“Spencer Donato, aren’t you a delight?”