Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
“Our driver. Nico.”
She quirked an eyebrow, and it just barely rose above the right side of her mask.
“It felt like he was talking in code, and my radar detector didn’t like what he was implying.”
“What are you talking about?” Still confused, she paused just outside the mansion doors, and the masked couple at our backs had to step around us to go inside.
“That conversation didn’t feel odd to you?”
“Uh…no.” She shook her head, and an amused smile formed at her lips. “It only made me more excited about tonight. I think Paula was right. We’re going to have the time of our lives.”
“Okay,” I said through a sigh, just wanting to have something go right. I didn’t want to be the stick in the mud that led to even more disappointment for my wife. “Let’s do it, then. Let’s go have some fun.”
She laughed. “You seem like you’re afraid Thatch is going to, like, pop out of the bushes or something with an entourage of clowns.”
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past the bastard.”
I mean, he did send an entire hibachi grill into our suite last night. And had a band stalk us today.
“You’re just being paranoid,” Georgie chastised.
Maybe she was right. Being best friends with the world’s biggest prankster would make anyone jumpy after they had to suffer a five-alarm fire in the name of Thatch’s idea of romance.
If that bastard ever decided to stop eating at the pussy buffet, good luck to the woman who married him. She either needed to be completely clueless or downright insane to willingly be a part of his craziness for the rest of her life.
Finally, Georgia and I stepped inside an entryway that felt as if it had been plucked right out of Versailles. Gilded pillars and marble floors and a Renaissance-style painted cathedral ceiling filled my view, and I immediately started to wonder about who was footing the bill for this place. I knew I was a billionaire, but a villa like this had to go for more than a hundred grand a night.
Surely, he or she was in the business of making money.
Lots of it.
And damn did they like showing it off.
“This place is insane,” Georgia whispered toward me, and I nodded.
“Whoever is staying here really wants us to know they have money.”
She snorted. “You do realize you’re worth billions, right?” she tossed out, a giggle on her lips.
“Pretty sure you mean we’re worth billions,” I corrected her. “And the day I start renting mansions like this and gilding fucking everything like some kind of sixteenth-century king instead of donating money to charities that actually serve good in the world, divorce me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She slapped my chest. “That would mean I’d be going against my vows.”
“Yeah, well, this is me giving you permission to go against your vows if I turn into that kind of megalomaniac moron.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “How about we actually go inside the mansion and, I don’t know, enjoy the party instead of balking at how much they spent on those gold pillars until your humble billionaire head explodes?”
I grinned down at her. “Good idea.”
Once we reached the end of the entryway, the room opened up into a grand ballroom that was filled with about a hundred guests. Everyone was dressed for the occasion in suits and gowns and masks adorning their faces.
Chatter and laughter echoed within the space, while a live band at the opposite end of the room played cover songs for the guests that had chosen to dance.
The modern music clashed with the Renaissance décor, but somehow, it also worked.
“I kind of feel like I’m Kirsten Dunst in that movie Marie Antoinette,” Georgia said, a smile on her lips.
I chuckled at her adorable randomness and nodded toward the bar. “Do you want a drink?”
“Yes, please. And while you get the drinks, I’m going to run to the ladies’ room really quick. The corset I’m wearing under this dress is about to squeeze the pee right out of me.”
“Okay, baby,” I agreed with a laugh and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
Once I reached the bar and noted from a distance that Georgia had safely found the restrooms on the opposite end of the ballroom, a bartender dressed in a tuxedo smiled toward me.
“What can I get you tonight, sir?”
“A scotch on the rocks and a glass of white wine.”
While he made our drinks, I turned back toward the ballroom, resting a hip on the edge of the bar and taking in the view.
People chatting and laughing and dancing occupied the giant space.
Scanning the crowd superficially, I spotted a man and woman deep in a passionate kiss, their clinch so tight that the side of the woman’s breast was only a scant millimeter from escaping her dress. Damn, they’re really going for it tonight, I guess…