Page 112 of Mark my Words

As the elevator stopped, Sam squeezed my hand, winking before he leaned in. “We got this.”

The doors opened into a spacious penthouse suite, floor-to-ceiling windows across the entire space with a view of Manhattan most would kill for. It’d been remodeled after I left for Harvard, all of the historic touches I once loved erased to accommodate my mother’s need to spend ridiculous amounts of money to make herself look important.

“Kristine,” a deep voice to my right startled me, “nice of you to join us this evening. We weren’t sure if you could step away from your commitments.”

My father, Mason Willard the Third, stood just outside the door to his home office, the requisite glass of whiskey in his hands. His imposing height—well over six feet—and his severe features were intimidating to most. But to me, they represented a lifetime of not measuring up to expectations.

“Of course, Mason. I was invited by the birthday girl personally. It’d be rude to decline when I already planned to be in the city.”

One heavily grayed eyebrow arched on his immobile forehead before he looked over my shoulder to Sam. “You must be the colleague we’ve heard so much about. Not from Kristine, of course. Her family is quite the point of embarrassment for her.”

“Well, can you blame her?” another voice laughed. A slim, perfectly manicured hand slipped around my waist. “Every time she comes home, you corner her and try to foist another brainless heir in her direction.”

“Nana,” I smiled, turning to give her a tight hug. “Thank you,” I whispered in her ear. Being cornered right inside the door had not been a pleasant surprise.

“Mason, did you find that bottle of champagne I requested? The poor caterers had no idea what I was asking for. What a shame your wife can’t manage to oversee a simple birthday party for an old lady. They couldn’t find her anywhere.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Mother,” he assured as he stepped around us, his face blank as he looked back toward me. But that was understandable since I knew he’d been getting more Botox injections than my mother since turning fifty. Not that he’d been all that expressive to begin with. If people called me heartless, I’d inherited it from him.

“Thank God you’re here,” Nana smiled, pulling me toward the main seating area and glaring at a few overly perfumed women seated on the couch.

Once they realized who she was, they hastily gathered their things and fled. “I don’t know half the people here. Your mother invited all her succubus friends, and they’ve been gushing over how great I look for my age since I got here. They somehow think their poor performances as trophy wives for a few years before they were put out to pasture entitles them to my respect.”

“Well.” I smiled as I sat down, tugging Sam down next to me. “You do look pretty spectacular.”

“Oh, stop it,” she laughed, leaning back into her chair. “Your place in the will is secure. You don’t need to flatter an old biddy like me.”

She shook her head, glancing across the room, her features softening. She raised one hand, gesturing to someone, and then tipped back the rest of her wine glass.

“If it weren’t for Pietro, I’d be hiding right now. He was talking to your father’s boring business partners about profit forecasting. I was about to stab myself in the temple with one of your mother’s prized heels. Lord knows why that woman needs an entire room full of shoes she can barely walk in. She’s never been the most graceful creature.”

I glanced at Sam, who’d been silent since we sat down, quietly rubbing his thumb over my hand as he scanned the room around us. I was sure it all looked intimidating, but none of these people held any real substance. It was all smoke and mirrors and millions of dollars of cosmetic enhancement. “If you couldn’t tell, there are more artificial body parts in this room than in a Barbie factory.”

He chuckled, squeezing my hand, but his expression was still distant.

“Were you planning to introduce me?” Nana interrupted, wiggling her eyebrows as she gave Sam a pointed glance.

“Sorry, of course. Daphne Willard, this is Sam Langley.”

“I can see why you’d be so taken with this one,” Nana winked as Sam leaned forward with his hand outstretched.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Willard. Kris speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh, aren’t you adorable? Call me Daffy, Sam. Chicklet told me you were a charmer, but you’re just darling.”

My cheeks heated as Sam looked down at me, obviously memorizing my grandmother’s nickname to bring up later.

Nana’s smile widened as she looked past us, Pietro stopping at the arm of her chair.

“Come meet Chicklet’s young man, Piet. He edits those mystery books you love so much.”

“Ah, another logophile,” Pietro smiled. “What authors do you work with? Or is that a secret too?”

I scooted down, pulling Sam with me so Pietro could sit on the end of the couch closest to Nana. They held hands while the two men talked, and I could practically see the heart eyes Nana was throwing in Pietro’s direction.

“What?” she mouthed as I smiled at their public display of affection. I was sure it drove Mason up the wall that she’d brought her new boyfriend home for her birthday party.

Nodding my head at the two men, deep in discussion over the latest crime drama Sam had edited, I realized that the only person in my family who mattered was giving Sam the stamp of approval.

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