Make Me (Broke and Beautiful #3)(27)

“I’ll go,” Russell grated. “I’m going.”

IT WAS SATURDAY morning. Abby should have been packing her travel case for a lazy, sunshine-laced weekend with her friends. Instead, she was staring over the top of her Mac computer screen at the company’s lawyer, Mitchell, and one visibly irritated stepmother. Her stepmother, to be exact.

Abby had woken early, thinking to drop into the office to tie up some loose ends so she could relax over the weekend, but she’d stumbled upon a meeting between her stepmother and Mitchell, who were less than enthused about her impromptu vacation. Oh, they were trying to hide it, but her stepmother’s tell had always been rummaging through her purse. And the Balenciaga bag had been rummaged within an inch of its three-thousand-dollar life.

“You’ll be on call, though, won’t you?” her stepmother asked, pulling out her wallet and replacing it seconds later. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re finally taking advantage of the estate. I’ve been begging you to accompany me for a visit for years. But, Abigail—”

“The situation here is minute to minute,” Mitchell interjected. “We appreciate the time and effort you’re putting in, as does your father.”

Abby didn’t look up from her keyboard. “How would I know that when he won’t see me?”

“Sweetheart, he doesn’t want you to see him this way. You know what a proud man your father is. Soon, I promise. Everything will be back to normal.”

Abby inhaled deeply, reminding herself to stay calm. They weren’t in Southampton just yet, but she’d resolved to breathe this weekend. Over the last week, the pressure had mounted to the point where, not only was this trip meant for fun, it might even be necessary for her health. A thought that terrified her, knowing what her father had gone through at the helm of the company. “Yes, I know. And I have everything under control. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have my phone and laptop with me while I’m there.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, entering reminders into next week’s calendar before switching screens to respond to a client email. “It’s not unusual for father to be unreachable by phone over the weekend. Our clients know they can communicate with him via email, and I’ll be there to handle any concerns.”

“There is a conference call with Venezuela on Monday morning,” Mitchell said, consulting the datebook in his hand. “You’ll be back by then, won’t you? It’s your father’s account, and no one else is familiar with it.”

“Yes. I’ll be back Sunday night.” She spun in her chair and opened a file-cabinet drawer, slipping out the client’s information. “I’ll take the file with me, so I’m up to speed. Is there anything else?”

Her stepmother started to speak, but a familiar voice shouting in the hallway interrupted her. “Mayday, Mayday. We’re down one party girl. I repeat, party girl has gone rogue. Must recover.”

Roxy.

“Roger, that, chopper one.” Honey. “We’ve got our eyes peeled for an off-the-grid party girl. We’ve been advised her killer legs are registered weapons and will proceed with caution. Over and out.”

When Roxy and Honey sailed into her office wearing goggles and duck-shaped flotation devices around their waists, Abby burst into laughter, ignoring her stepmother’s mask of horror. Not exactly a traditional way to introduce your best friends to your stepmother, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Dang. There was a tight welling in her chest telling her this weekend might be more in order than originally thought.

Last night, she’d been lying in her bed, formulas and risk evaluations overflowing from every crevice of her brain, when Roxy and Honey had burst into her room like a pair of Tasmanian devils. As soon as she’d stopped screaming from the shock, Honey had pounced on her, holding her shoulders down as Roxy straddled her waist.

“Thought this intervention was over, didn’t you?” Honey crooned.

Every inch the actress, Roxy released a truly chilling, haunted-house cackle. “Oh, it has only just begun. We’re taking a road trip, baby.”

Abby tried to get up, but Honey held fast. “Have you guys been hanging out with Louis’s twin sisters, or something?”

“Say what you will, but the terror twins get shit done,” Roxy responded.

“Just like we’re about to.” Honey’s face was poised inches above Abby’s. “We’re getting out of this city for the weekend. You’re going to relax if we have to tie you down and have a shirtless pool boy force-feed you Vienna sausages and chocolate.”

“Honey Perribow, you are a straight-up natural at this,” Roxy praised.

“It’s all in the delivery.”

Abby had put up a token protest because her workload only seemed to triple every time she blinked, but her friends had feigned actual deafness until she said yes. And the minute she had, the sharpest edges of her anxiety started to ebb. Anxiety brought on not only by her workload but Russell’s radio silence. Maybe it was na?ve on her part, but she’d expected him to stop her before she’d even gotten on the subway after leaving his house yesterday. Then again, when she returned home, she had been positive he would call, tell her he wanted to pursue the physical relationship she’d proposed. But . . . nothing. Nada. Suddenly, the one person who had always seemed hell-bent on her not getting hurt was doing the hurting. As a result, her confidence was taking a significant dip at a time when she really didn’t need any additional crappiness heaped on top of her.