Page 78 of Calamity Rayne Gets Hitched

He transferred the margarita to a silver tray and carried it into the other room, waiting for me to select a seat. My butler was serving cocktails in the sitting room and my life had become that of a game piece in Clue. This was fucking nuts.

Skipping after him I plopped down on the French Renaissance settee. “Why thank you, Percy.” I took the margarita with two hands and sipped. “Uh—mazing.” My lips snapped at the delicious tartness. “Wow. This clearly isn’t your first tequila rodeo.” The smooth blend of lime and salt tasted like it came right out of Barcelona.

“If there’s nothing else…”

“Oh.” I wanted to get to know him if we were going to be hanging out over the next few days, and he seemed less intimidating than Marty my driver. “Why don’t you make a drink for yourself?”

He smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but I must decline.”

I studied him for a long moment. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, but he talked like he was torn fresh out of a Victorian novel. No millennial was that serious. I bet he had tattoos under that tuxedo.

“I won’t tell your boss if you have a drink. Relax. I’m probably the easiest guest you’ll ever have.”

“Thank you, but I must decline.”

Hmm. He was going to be a tough nut to crack. I sipped my margarita. “You sure? It’s really good.”

“Positive, madam. I’m pleased you like it.”

“I guess I have everything I need then.”

He nodded. “If there’s anything else, you can ring the bell.” He pointedly tipped his gaze toward the antique end table.

I followed his stare to a small bell—so very Queen Elizabeth. “Okeydokey.”

After Mr. Purcell—I couldn’t call him that. It was too formal. He was Percy—After Percy left the sitting room—not quite sure where he went—I stared at the furniture.

A few minutes later I was slurping the last few drops out of my cocktail and crunching on the lime-flavored ice cubes. Not quite ready to head out into the world of traffic and bridal veils, I texted Hale.

This hotel is insane! I just housed a margarita at 10:23 in the morning. My butler made it. I have a butler!

It lost a little of the sheen when there was no response. I glanced at the time. Hale wouldn’t be landing for hours. Eyeing the bell, I considered asking Percy to make another margarita just so I could have his company again. I only hesitated because I didn’t want to be trashed when I left for Phina’s boutique.

Setting my glass aside, I drummed my fingers on the arm of the settee, debating if I should let Hale’s sister know I’d arrived. The moment she knew I was here it would be full-throttle wedding-gate for days, so it made more sense to procrastinate a while longer.

I picked up my phone and dialed the second contact on my speed dial

“Meyers,” Remington answered briskly. “Did you make it to the hotel in one piece?”

“Rodger dodger. How much does a place like this run a night?”

He gave a gruff laugh. “What did I tell you about price inquiries? A real man never brags about how much his luxuries cost. And a classy woman should automatically assume—whatever it is—she’s worth it.”

“But seriously, Remington, how much? Did you know the tub spigot is plated in fourteen-carat gold? Real gold!”

“Why aren’t you on your way to Madison Ave.?”

“My appointment’s not for an hour.”

“Oh, please. You’re family. Get your ass downstairs and have Martell run you over to Phina’s. New York isn’t in a penthouse. Get outside and experience it.”

“Hey, about Martell, where did you find him?”

“He’s Hale’s guy.”

“But you use him too, right?”

“When I’m in the city.”

---