Covet Me Page 6

  I pulled the latest copy of Trend from my tote bag and threw it in her lap.

  “Ever read this?” I asked. Now that I was the one brimming over with the news, I wondered how Lola had been able to remain so composed.

  “Not for years.” Jane paged through it, stopping occasionally to scan an article. “I haven’t exactly followed fashion trends for the past twenty years. It’s very liberating.”

  I rolled my eyes at her insinuation. Jane supported my idea even if she didn’t quite understand its appeal. “It’s my job to follow them,” I reminded her. “Anyway, they want to feature Bless.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Jane cried, dragging me into a hug. When I pulled back, tears sparkled in her eyes.

  “Don’t do that,” I warned her, already feeling wet heat prickling in my own. “Or I’ll cry.”

  “You’ve worked so hard and you’ve picked yourself back up. I couldn’t be prouder.”

  A lump formed in my throat, and no matter how hard I swallowed, it didn’t budge. I’d spent most of my life searching for my mother’s approval. Jane had filled that void for me. Making her proud meant more than anything.

  “I leave for New York on Monday.”

  “This just keeps getting better.” Jane’s eyes twinkled, but this time it wasn’t the glisten of tears. It was mischief. “The city that never sleeps. What fun.”

  “Business,” I corrected her. “It will probably be a few meetings and some room service.”

  “That won’t do.” Jane shook her platinum head. “And you’ll never get away with it anyway. It’s impossible to go to New York without it getting under your skin. It’s so alive there, it’s infectious.”

  “I’ll use protection,” I said flatly. There had been a time when visiting the city had been on my bucket list. Knowing I was going there alone, and for a business trip, sucked some of the flavor out of the opportunity. And more importantly, the trip was about Bless. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted by romanticizing the city. Not when I needed to be laser-focused on the task at hand.

  “Before you leave the country,” Jane said, her tone taking on a seriousness that meant I was about to get an earful about something, “call Edward. That boy is beside himself. He’s so worried about you that he stopped by here last night.”

  “I will,” I promised sheepishly.

  Jane’s penetrating gaze saw right through me. “He’s not going to rub it in. He cares about you.”

  “I just wanted to pretend nothing was wrong,” I admitted in a low voice.

  “No, you wanted to avoid what was wrong.” Jane knitted her soft, papery fingers through mine.

  I nodded, knowing she’d nailed it. “I should call him.”

  “Sooner rather than later,” she suggested.

  “Sooner,” I echoed. It was time to stop avoiding what I’d been through and focus my energy on what I had in front of me. My friends. My business. And a trip to New York City.

  Monday morning found me with bags packed, waiting for a car service outside my flat. With any luck, Heathrow would be calm enough that I would have time to grab a cup of tea before my flight, but I wasn’t counting on it. The driver was already five minutes late, and with each second that passed, I thought of something new to worry about. Did I have my passport? A check of my bag confirmed I did. Had I packed a toothbrush? They probably had those in New York if I’d forgotten. Was I going crazy? Yes. Definitely yes. When the car finally pulled to the curb, I snatched up my luggage as the window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.

  “Your drivers have arrived,” Edward called jovially.

  “My drivers are late,” I scolded him, not feeling even remotely upset. He’d been over the moon when I’d finally called him. He hadn’t even mentioned Smith. Undoubtedly Lola had kept the rest of our tight-knit group abreast that there was trouble in paradise.

  “Do you know how hard it is to get His Royal Highness out of bed?” Lola yelled from the driver’s seat as I slung my bag inside the back and slid in. I’d opted for a comfortable knit dress that still looked professional. I had no idea who would be meeting me at JFK International, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I’d even worn stockings.

  “In my defense, I had no idea there were two six o’clocks,” Edward said, shifting so his arm was casually resting on the armrest between the seats.

  “Try looking at a clock,” Lola suggested as she merged onto the motorway.

  The good-natured bickering continued between the two of them, nearly lulling me back to sleep.

  “You have your flight information, right?” Lola asked.

  I shook the cobwebs out of my head. “I have what you sent me.”

  “A driver will meet you at the baggage claim and get you to your hotel. Abigail’s assistant is supposed to send that info this afternoon, so check your email when you land.” Lola rattled off a half-dozen other instructions and I smiled and nodded. It was all information I already knew, but I appreciated how earnest she was about this trip.

  “I can’t believe I can’t get either of you to come with me.” I’d tried. Lola had been clear it was impossible, but Edward’s refusal had been more puzzling. “Too busy with matters of state? Couldn’t ensure you’d have a security team available?”

  Edward peeked back at me, shaking his head, and gave me the side eye. “There was no time to arrange a proper welcoming parade. A prince must have his standards.”

  “You are so full of yourself.” Lola smacked his shoulder, her eyes never leaving the road.

  “Of course, I am. I’m royalty,” he shot back.

  “Tell her the real reason,” Lola demanded haughtily.

  “I knew something was up.” I pointed a finger at him. “You. Tell. Now.”

  “If you must know…” he trailed away.

  “I must,” I pressed. It wasn’t like Edward to be so secretive. It was actually a good thing that he didn’t have the same responsibilities as his brother. I wasn’t entirely certain he could be trusted with classified information.

  “David and I are meeting with Alexander,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

  “Finally!” I threw my hands up in the air. “I don’t know why you’ve held out so long.”

  “He’s not going to say no,” Lola added, echoing the opinion I’d expressed to Edward at least a dozen times since he’d proposed to his boyfriend.

  “It is slightly more complicated than cold feet,” Edward said flatly.

  My eyes narrowed. Edward had come out publicly almost a year ago and proposed to his longtime boyfriend a few months later. Despite pressure from Clara, David, and myself, he’d been dragging his feet on setting a date for months. “They might not be cold, but they’re certainly slow.”

  “So explain it to us,” Lola said.

  “I can’t.” This time his refusal was straightforward and firm. Judging from the way Lola’s head jolted in surprise, we were both taken back.

  “What do you mean?” I said with a laugh. We’d never shared the more sordid details of our love lives. I really didn’t think he wanted to hear about Smith’s penchant for dominance. But neither of us had ever shied away from analyzing even the most mundane aspects of our relationship statuses.

  “I mean, I can’t.” Edward ran a hand through his curly hair and slouched back into his seat, turning his gaze to stare out the window. “Please don’t ask more.”

  Maybe I was wrong about his ability to keep secrets. Although I couldn’t fathom what he was hiding from us now.

  “Fine. Can I ask who your maid of honor is going to be?” I said, shifting the topic to clear the heavy tension in the cabin. “I have an idea if you need suggestions.”

  “I was thinking we might elope,” Edward said. “How are you with the beach?”

  “I’m good with that.” Reaching forward, I put a hand on his shoulder. I wouldn’t force him to tell me more, but I still wanted him to know that I was here for him. He took it and held it for the rest of the ride. We chattered about cakes a
nd honeymoon locations, each of us avoiding the questions that had been left unanswered.

  But as we pulled up to the drop-off lane at Heathrow, I couldn’t help but wonder when relationships had gotten so complicated. There was a time when Clara and I kept nothing from one another. These days we barely had time to talk, and she’d never been terribly forthcoming about her private relationship with Alexander. Now Edward was shutting me out. It didn’t diminish my love for either of them, but it did hurt, especially given how closed-off Smith had been about his personal life outside our relationship.

  Uh-uh. My conscience interrupted me before I could descend into the spiral of self-doubt any further.

  Edward popped out of the car and gave me a swift kiss on the cheek. We both did our best to ignore the number of travelers who stopped to snap a pic. It was one of the liabilities of being best friends with him.

  “Tomorrow morning, they’ll be reporting that you’ve gone straight,” I whispered to him. I could see the tabloid covers now. Given the whirlwind I’d been privy to in the last year and a half, I could probably write headlines for them.

  “Once you go gay, you never stray,” he teased, passing me my bag from the backseat. “David will get a good laugh out of them.”

  Lola rolled her window down and blew me a kiss. “See you in a few days.”

  “I’ll call you,” I promised her.

  “You better. See if you can get Abigail to take a selfie with you for our social media feeds.”

  I agreed, even though there was no way in hell I was going to embarrass myself by asking for that. Abigail Summers didn’t strike me as the selfie type.

  Inside the airport doors, I groaned when I saw the security line and found myself cursing Edward for not coming along once more. There would be no way I’d have to wait in that line with him at my side. Hauling my bag over to the ticketing counter, I handed my passport over to check my bag.

  “Miss Stuart,” she chirped, “how many bags will you be checking today?”

  “Just one.” I’d managed to cram it full of six pairs of shoes and a dozen more dresses.

  “Very good. Here’s your boarding pass. Since you’re flying in first class, you can use the fast track security lane to the left.”

  I glanced down at my ticket in surprise. Apparently, Trend didn’t mess around. “Thank you!”

  My trip was already off to a great start. After bypassing most of the line, I not only had time for a cup of tea but a croissant as well in the airline’s private lounge. Scanning through The Telegraph, I spotted familiar faces on the society page. Apparently Pepper Lockwood wasn’t going to heed my warning and kick Philip to the curb. I stuffed the last flaky bite of pastry in my mouth and drained my tea. Those two deserved each other. I was certain it would be a long and painful union for the both of them. Smith had cured me of any lasting bitterness over Philip’s betrayal. Or maybe he’d just replaced my bitterness over that break-up with bitterness over our own relationship ending.

  The few times I’d flown overseas to visit a friend in Los Angeles, I’d been forced to do so in economy, which wasn’t terrible on an international flight. Until I was seated in first class international. I was pretty sure I could ask for a kidney transplant and receive one. I opted to stretch across my seat like it was a luxurious divan while flight attendants brought hot towels and champagne. Lunch and breakfast were served on respectable bone china. Given that I was about to spend the next five years or so building a business, I wasn’t getting used to the treatment. Every dime would have to go right back into Bless to make it the success I envisioned.

  But I was going to bloody well enjoy it now.

  I’d brought my laptop, but after an hour spent reviewing the talking points Lola had prepared—which I had memorized before take-off—I abandoned the computer in favor of a smutty novel I’d grabbed from the airport bookstore. But reading about sex with a broken heart turned out to be a bad idea.

  “Do you want this?” I asked the flight attendant as she delivered a refill on my champagne. I’d better slow down or I’d pass out before I could even claim I was jet lagged.

  She glanced at the cover and shook her head, leaning down to whisper, “I already read that series. What did you think?”

  “Not my cup of tea.” It was best to leave it there. The champagne I’d consumed threatened to take over and spill the emotional tale.

  “It is a little kinky.” She bit her lips, blushing as she said it.

  Poor thing. I could guess that her experience with kinky ended in those pages. I kept the opinion to myself and shoved it in the magazine holder.

  The way I saw it, after my failed literary attempt and the disastrous exchange with the flight attendant, I could give in to the champagne and cry. Or I could use it to my advantage and fall asleep.

  Neither option felt very empowering, but at least if I slept, I wouldn’t have to ask for tissues.

  A few hours later, I was gently shaken awake by the kind woman. She handed me back my book to store for landing. Looking out the window, I caught sight of the Statue of Liberty, which looked disappointingly small from this height. It was my first trip to the east coast of America, and if there was one reason I was happy to be going alone, it was so I could be an awful tourist without judgment.

  JFK proved slightly less civilized than Heathrow. I shot off a text to Lola as soon as I was through customs.

  BELLE: I thought there was going to be a cavity search. Americans take their airports very seriously.

  There was no response and no email with the information she’d promised me, but there was a man holding a sign with my name on it in baggage claim. Underneath was scrawled Bless.

  Bless was real. Today was the proof. I was across the pond on a business trip. For a split second, I wished Smith could be here to see that. The thought squeezed my heart, and I quickly dismissed it.

  “I’m Annabelle Stuart,” I told the man with the sign.

  “Welcome to New York,” he said in an accent I’d only heard on television. “Are you here for business or pleasure?”

  “Business,” I responded as he led me to the baggage carousel. I no longer mixed the two.

  As the car hurtled through the narrow lanes, the driver honking impatiently, I tried to take in the city for the first time. The streets of New York were as crowded as I’d imagined they would be. Everywhere there was chaotic blend of colors and people, all rushing toward the next item on their daily schedule. It made my head hurt. London was by no means a quiet metropolis, but this was something entirely different. Life in all its wild vitality pulsed from every direction.

  We flew past a park full of activity. Even leisure time felt rushed here. Sinking against my seat, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. So the city intimidated me. Big deal. I wasn’t exactly a wallflower. I was accustomed to high-pressure situations. I’d been the maid of honor at the most infamous wedding in history after all. Tension fueled my passion, and I would work that to my advantage.

  A few minutes later, the car slowed to a merciful stop, and I peeked back out the window to find the bustling entrance to one of the largest, and grandest, hotels I’d ever seen.

  “Are you certain we’re in the right place?” I asked the driver, allowing my confusion to show. Trend had been the one to arrange my accommodations, but I had a hard time believing they set up relatively green entrepreneurs in such lavish quarters.

  “My sheet says to deliver you to the Plaza,” he informed me. “This is it.”

  “Okay,” I managed, but the words were barely out of my mouth before he was out of the car. He circled to the back as a bellman opened my door and offered me his hand.

  The kindly gentleman seemed unfazed by the fact that my mouth was hanging open. “Welcome to the Plaza, Miss.”

  “Thank you.” I took his hand and clamped my mouth shut. I deserved to be here. At least that was how I was going to have to sell this to myself.

  That was harder when I walked through the doors. Ma
rble floors morphed into marble columns, leading to a sweeping staircase. Clusters of richly upholstered chairs perched on plush rugs dotted the lobby, and a massive crystal chandelier scattered light across the wide space. A bellhop wheeled a cart with my baggage past me, and I followed him to the hotel desk.

  “Checking in?” the woman behind it asked in a pert voice. She studied me for a moment before her eyes softened. I had the feeling I’d just passed a test.

  “Annabelle Stuart.” I handed her my passport and unzipped my wallet to retrieve my credit card.

  “Oh yes, Miss Stuart.” Her tone completely changed as she checked the computer screen. “We have you in the Hardenbergh Terrace Suite on the Penthouse level.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to sound like an idiot by asking another person if they were mistaken. Maybe I wasn’t the only Annabelle Stuart arriving in New York today.

  “It’s on the twentieth floor. Your key card will grant you access. Please keep it with you at all times. The Plaza values the privacy of its guests, so security may ask to see it on occasion. Geoffrey, your personal butler, is available to you twenty-four hours a day should you require assistance.”

  I held out my credit card, suddenly more afraid to have her run it. It carried a limit that probably didn’t cover the entrance fee to a place like this. To my relief, she waved it away.

  “Everything has been taken care of. Geoffrey will show you to your suite.” She beckoned across the lobby, and a man came forward dressed in a long tailcoat and white gloves. He looked as though he’d just stepped from the pages of an old novel.

  “Miss Stuart.” He tipped his head politely and lifted my bags from the trolley while I checked for an earpiece. Both the receptionist and the butler acted as if they’d been waiting all day for my arrival, and while I was positive I was about to make a splash in the business world, I hadn’t done it yet.

  As he led me toward the private lift off the lobby, I considered pinching myself. Maybe I was dreaming. Of course, I wouldn’t put it past Lola to name drop to secure me above-average accommodations. But while I might be close personal friends with the British Monarchy, I was no princess. Something wasn’t adding up.