Stone Cold Fox (14)
“Have fun.” She grinned. “Really good to meet you in person, Bea.”
“Likewise,” I said, giving her another gentle once-over with my eyes.
* * *
? ? ?
I CLUCKED MY tongue at Collin when we were alone in the elevator. “So. Where did you find Syl?” I asked.
“Oh! Yeah, her résumé came through HR and, uh, she just seemed like a good fit after her interview. She’s a little green, but learns quickly, all things considered. I like her,” Collin said, watching himself in the mirror as he put on his aviators. Not his best look. He didn’t have the bone structure in his face to support a rounded frame.
“What did you think?” he asked.
“Seems sweet. She’s quite charming in person. Very attractive.”
“Bea.”
“What? I’m just stating facts here.”
“I didn’t hire her because she’s hot.”
“I didn’t say she was hot. You just did.”
“You’re a trip.” He laughed, putting his arms around my waist. “You know you’re the hottest girl in any room anywhere.” True.
“Well, you’re such a darling man, looking out for a girl like that,” I fraudulently commended him.
“A girl like what?”
“Just, you know, probably down on her luck a bit.”
“How so?”
“Isn’t she a little old to be your assistant?”
“What? No way. You should see my dad’s EA, Connie. She’s ancient. And great at her job.” I was surprised to hear someone like Mr. Case favored loyalty over legs. “Being an EA is a lot of work, sweetie,” Collin continued. “A different path than ours, but honorable just the same.” The Honorable Syl Austin. It was such a preposterously endearing proclamation from Collin that it just made me want to marry him even more.
Sweet men rarely sour.
The two of us walked into Hillstone and they rolled out the red carpet as per usual. Freshly poured Perrier for me. An ice-cold beer for Collin. The server awaited our order with bated breath. I was all ready to launch into a friendly trash-talking session about Len Arthur, but it quickly became apparent that Collin had his own agenda for our luncheon, holding my hand from across the table with a decidedly anxious energy. It felt like he was going to dump me or propose to me, but instead he brought up the subject of his family.
Excellent. Nearly four months in. Right on schedule. It was go time.
“Since we’re basically out in the open now, between Len and my friends, you know, I figured it was time to tell my family about you, and so I did. And they want to host us for brunch on Sunday. Are you free?”
“I am. That sounds great.” I sipped my sparkling water, keeping my composure, but I was squealing internally. Once I had Collin’s family on my side, a proposal would be on the horizon shortly. A Sunday brunch in Connecticut would progress to a country club golf outing in the coming weeks, all leading up to a soiree at one of the summer houses to celebrate our engagement.
I was that much closer to becoming Mrs. Case.
I could leave everybody else behind forever.
Especially her.
CHAPTER
4
I KNEW EXACTLY what I was up against with the Cases. It would have been much simpler to set my sights on someone with an easier family to charm, or even better, someone with no family at all, but the Cases offered a forever type of security, the kind where I could stop being such a cunning little vixen for good. Nothing worth it comes for free. But I was an unknown entity to the Cases. I knew they must have held a deep-seated belief that their only son would ultimately marry into another family like their own, allowing some young society journalist the opportunity to craft a wedding announcement for the ages, one that would both impress and infuriate the Cases’ elite social circle because the match was so favorable to both families.
Mr. and Mrs. Hayes and Haven Case were the quintessential American couple with cash. Consummate hosts of parties and luncheons and galas. Golf and tennis and equestrian enthusiasts. Philanthropic. Personable. Presbyterian. And in possession of absolutely no edge to speak of unless you count watching Fox News behind closed bedroom doors with two glasses of brandy each. Married for thirty-five glorious years, in addition to prodigal son Collin, they also bore two hellacious daughters, Chloe and Calliope, born as bookends to Collin, paraded around like a couple of bootleg Bush twins. Chloe was the eldest and looked up to her mother, while Calliope brought up the rear and idolized the likes of Tinsley Mortimer. Both were single, which put me at an even further disadvantage with them, especially Chloe, who I’m sure would have liked to be married before her younger brother.
The Case family compound was in the Golden Triangle of Greenwich. A historic Georgian mansion with all the bells and whistles and servants’ quarters that purposely stood atop a gentle hill so they could always look down on their neighbors. The gated rainbow driveway and six-car garage was host to many a classic car per the patriarch’s preference, but also a ridiculous red Ferrari. I made a mental note to ask Mr. Case for a pleasure cruise to take an interest in his hobby and to garner favor with harmless flirtation via one-on-one face time.
The vast interior of the home was soaked with various shades of beige and ecru and eggshell with a smattering of crimson. It was fully staffed, as were all of their residences, and those employed were always silent unless spoken to. Tennis courts. A greenhouse. A fitness studio. A screening room. Nine bedrooms. Twelve bathrooms. A pool that existed purely for decoration over recreation. It was resplendent. A marvel of a manse. I would have felt instantly at home if Collin’s family were to give me a warm welcome. Opulence soothed me. That feeling of undeniable security was intoxicating.