Isn't She Lovely (Redemption 0.5)(55)

Stephanie snorts. “Of course it’s pretentious. But it’s also pretty damn nice.”

Her voice is devoid of scorn, and I’m oddly relieved that she can hang in this world without feeling disdainful of all the opulence. Because even though it is opulent, and completely, disgustingly over the top, it’s also my world. It’s my future. One day it’ll be me hosting Hamptons parties on behalf of Price Holdings.

I drain the rest of my champagne, letting the flute dangle from my fingers by its stem over the water. “You know, now that I’m here, I feel a little foolish that I was so scared to face this alone. I don’t know why it was so important that I have a girlfriend. There’s no shame in a twenty-one-year-old coming to his parents’ party alone, you know?”

She glances at my profile, and I can tell she’s surprised by the admission. And perhaps a little irritated, seeing as I’ve dragged her out of her element when she’s undoubtedly wishing she were lurking in some little hole-in-the-wall theater in Soho right now.

She bumps her hip lightly against mine. “You saying you want me to leave, Price?”

Now it’s my turn to glance at her profile and her turn to stare at the water. “No,” I say slowly. “I don’t think I’m saying that at all.”

It’s the closest I’ve come to admitting that there’s something between us other than the plan, and I can tell from the flush on her cheeks that she knows it. I should let it go, but I’m suddenly desperate for reassurance that I’m not alone on this limb. That I’m not the only one who wants to make this weekend more than a good-bye.

Because I suppose that it will be a good-bye. There’s no future for the heir to an empire and a girl who simply wants to be left alone.

But I also want to show her that I’m more than the Price Holdings heir apparent. That there’s more to what I feel for her than a stupid agreement. And that there’s more in the balance than a stupid screenplay.

So I push her. Just a little. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you?” I ask softly. “I can get you back to Manhattan within a few hours, your part of the bargain completely fulfilled.” But tell me you want to stay.

She says nothing for several seconds, and my heart starts to thud in panic that I’m wrong. That she’ll take me up on my offer and be on the next jitney back to the city before I’ve had a chance to …

Shit. I’m not even sure what I want out of her this weekend.

It’s not sex. I mean, it’s not just sex. At least not until she gets answers from that asshat ex-boyfriend of hers. I meant what I said that night. Stephanie deserves answers.

But whether or not she and Caleb had sex that night, she doesn’t remember it. Which means that whoever she sleeps with will essentially be her first. And she deserves her first to be someone other than a guy who’s more or less paying her to pose as his girlfriend.

But still, I want her to choose to be here.

Choose me. I don’t say it. But I want to.

“I don’t want to go home. Not yet.” She says it so softly that I think at first I’ve imagined it. But then she turns to face me, her blue eyes shining with support and friendship and something else neither of us will name.

I take her free hand and lift it to my lips. Not because anyone’s watching. But because I want to.

“I’m glad.”

The moment is mushy as hell and out of character for both of us, but neither of us moves for several minutes, and it’s just us, the lights reflecting off the water, and some Frank Sinatra song from the band.

There’s a shift happening, and it’s crucial and dangerous, yet I want it anyway.

I kiss her hand again, letting my teeth lightly scrape her knuckles and smiling in satisfaction when she sucks in a breath.

“Don’t you dare try to seduce me on this boat, Price,” she says, plucking her hand away from mine. “Not until I get to try some of this caviar you’re always rambling on about.”

I grin, letting her lighten the mood. “You’ve never had caviar?” I say in mock affront. “What are you, an animal?”

“Well then,” she says, letting me link fingers with her, “educate me.”

And I want to. In more ways than just caviar.

But then we turn in the direction of the buffet table, and all my plans go out the window when I spot the tall blonde staring at me with wounded green eyes.

And suddenly I can’t breathe.

Olivia.





Chapter Nineteen


Stephanie


Olivia’s beautiful.

I don’t know why I didn’t expect that. Of course Ethan’s ex would be beautiful. And I don’t just mean pretty in a more-attractive-than-average type of way. She’s completely stunning. I knew she was blond, but I’d been thinking (hoping) that it’d be some fake platinum nonsense. Instead it’s this silky honey-wheat color that makes her resemble a really hot farmer’s daughter, but in a classy, sophisticated kind of way. She’s also tall and willowy, and she looks like one of those girls who’ve done ballet since the age of two.

Adding insult to injury, her eyes are startlingly green and almond-shaped, and just exotic enough to keep her from ever being the boring girl next door.

Next to her, I feel stubby, frumpy, and phony.