When she had her cancer scare I was the one she told first, even before my father. It took her months to tell him. At the time, Bancroft was traveling with his team and Griffin was my dad’s right hand, so I took on the role of caretaker and confidant—it’s pulled us closer, although we were already close to begin with.
For that reason, I was the one who witnessed how difficult it was for her. I kept the secret until it was too much for just the two of us, respecting her desire to protect everyone from her pain.
I made it my responsibility to ensure every event she was in charge of still happened, and that she took the time she required to heal. It meant I slacked a lot more with my job working with my father at the Mills hotel empire. It caused some friction, and reinforced the assumption that I wasn’t taking my job seriously, but I took the heat because mothers aren’t replaceable and mine devoted her entire existence to making sure she raised three respectful boys. I’d rather have people think I’m a screwup than take away my mother’s pride and purpose.
The gossip over this is going to be disgusting and Gwendolyn, my mother’s sister and Armstrong’s mother, is bound to cause trouble. Making up excuses for how this couldn’t possibly be her precious son’s fault.
My father is currently ranting about how this generation places no value on the sanctity of marriage. I have to agree as far as Armstrong’s values are concerned. I’m glad I wasn’t raised in a home where marriage is just a word. My parents are devoted to each other and it shows.
“I think it would be best if we got you out of town until the worst of this blows over.”
“Harrison!” my mother chastises.
“I’m sorry, Meredith.” He covers her hand with his and gives it a squeeze. “Poor choice of words. It’s actually a good opportunity. There are some properties that need attention on the Polynesian Islands that you could visit. You’ll need to book a flight as soon as you can and we can get all the files ready before you go. I think it might be best for you to work from home until then, though, just to avoid all the gossip because we know how much your aunt and your cousin like to talk.”
He has a valid point. If my being out of the country will help slow the gossip roll, or take my family out of the line of fire, I’m willing to do what my father asks. I worry how this is going to go down for Amalie, but there’s nothing I can do about that. “Okay. If you think it’s going to make things easier.”
My father taps on the arm of his chair; he’s moved from angry lecture to full-on business mode. Despite my still being under the influence of a substantial amount of alcohol, so am I.
I make notes on my phone while he talks. I pull up the most frequented review sites and check out some of the resorts in the Polynesian Islands. “It looks like I should focus my attention on Bora Bora based on what I’m seeing here.”
“Good. Book yourself a flight, but give yourself enough time to prepare.”
“Should I book a return ticket or leave it open-ended?”
“Open-ended is probably better in case there are other properties that also need attention.”
“That works.” It’s hard to believe that not long ago Amalie was wearing lingerie, begging me to fuck her and now I’m being sent out of the country to avoid the backlash of this bullshit.
“I’ll have your assistant forward along any pertinent information we don’t manage to secure before you leave.”
“I could stop at the office on the way home and grab what I can?” I offer.
“That’s a good idea.” He taps the arm of the chair. “I know this isn’t ideal, Lexington, but these could and should be some of our most exclusive and best performing hotels, so I’m trusting you to stay focused while you’re there and try not to worry about what’s going on here.”
“I fully understand and I’ll do my best.”
“I expect you will. I know you’re capable of great work when your head is in it.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I’ve been working my ass off for the last six months, trying to redeem myself for my fuck-up in London last spring. And I did fuck up. That trip came on the heels of Armstrong and Amalie’s engagement party. I thought I could deal with the whole wedding thing, but it was Armstrong’s need to rub it in my face that pushed me over the edge at the engagement party. All the little digs, the snide comments he dropped, the ostentatious engagement ring, and the constant bragging about taming a wild one were more than I could handle. I spent a good part of the trip alone and shitfaced, micromanaging Bane and generally driving him insane.
I admitted to having dropped the ball, and I had wanted to be the one to rectify the error, but my father had taken me off the project and put my brother on it. Since then I’ve been trying to earn back the trust I lost. Having my younger brother come in and take over was another punch in the balls. It’s not his fault he’s inherently good at everything he does, but sometimes his golden-boy status pisses me off, especially on top of my already shitty shit sundae.
My father takes his glasses off and folds the arms while my mother yawns. “I think we’re all tired here, so it might be best to call it a night and we can discuss any questions in the morning.”
“Sounds good.” I push up out of the chair and my mother rises. She’s still in her heels, but even with them on she barely reaches my chin. Her smile is pained as she steps up and straightens my tie, as is her habit. She purses her lips and adjusts my collar, then rubs at a spot on my neck.
Fuck. I know exactly what that is.
“Is that a—”
I put a hand over hers, hoping my expression conveys the silent message not to finish the question.
Pursing her lips, she moves her palm to my cheek. “That girl has no self-respect at all. I’m so sorry, Lexington. I promise not to play matchmaker with you anymore, obviously my choices lack class.”
I clasp her hand in mine. She’s shaky. “It’s not your fault, Mom. Please don’t blame yourself.” I’m certainly not going to tell her the hickey isn’t from Brittany. Since Brittany is already a villain, it doesn’t hurt to throw some extra fuel on the villainous fire.
She gives me a sad smile. “Thank you.”
I don’t think she’s referring solely to my comment, but also possibly my lack of fight over being sent out of the country for something that essentially isn’t my fault. “Just for you, though.” I hug her, hoping this whole thing doesn’t cause another rift between my mother and my aunt. Just as Armstrong is an ass, Gwendolyn can be a bitch.
I wait until the elevator is heading to the hotel lobby before I pull up flight info for Bora Bora. The elevator doors slide open and I step into the lobby, thankful it’s virtually empty. I should’ve asked my driver to meet me at a side entrance. I walk briskly, keeping my gaze locked on my phone to appear engaged and to avoid making eye contact with anyone who might still be here.
“Lexy!” The shrill, unwelcome voice almost trips me up.
I accelerate and pretend I don’t hear her, but the clip of approaching heels warns me escape is not possible. She reaches me just as I push through the doors and step into the blustery New York night.
“Hey!” Brittany grabs my arm.