Page 72 of Baby Duke

"I suppose you're right," he says before sliding back into his seat.

I grin to myself as I browse the limited options. Fashion, home renovations, cooking, and gardening seem to be the choices. My lip turns up as I snatch a gardening one and flick through it, already knowing I have zero interest in it. With a huff, I chuck it back onto the rack.

My phone chimes before I can reach for a second option.

I glance at the screen and roll my eyes.

West: All good?

Roe: You literally just left!

West: Answer the question, or I’m coming straight back

Roe: Far out, I’m fine, asshole. Besides the dismal selection of magazines in this place, everything is dandy

West: Good. Keep me updated

Roe: You’re the one in potential danger tonight, remember?

Roe: East and I will be fine. I will let you know when we are settled in our rooms

West: Fine

Roe: See you tonight x

I cringe as I send the last message.Are we at that stage yet? Will we ever be at that stage? Why am I overthinking this like a little bitch?

My phone pings once more, and I close my eyes and take a deep breath before chiding myself for being a coward and open the text.

West: Be safe xx

My heart flutters like a damn butterfly before I shut that shit down, shoving my phone into my pocket and snatching a random magazine off the shelf. The magazine behind falls to the floor so I bend to pick it up, glancing at the title as I reach for it.

"Yes!" I exclaim, ignoring the eyes that swivel to me as I gush over the four-year-old gossip magazine. I drop theother magazine back to the shelf and shuffle back to the table, already flicking through the pages.

"Found a good one, hey?" Mr. Foster asks, smiling as I retake my seat beside him.

"I almost died when I saw the selection I had to choose from."

Mr. Foster chuckles, tapping away at his keyboard. "I'm not surprised."

We sit in companionable silence for what feels like hours as I lazily turn page after page of the magazine, admiring this celebrity’s dress while cringing at others, rolling my eyes at the typical drama of the elite. I flip my phone over after a while and scoff when I see it has been just fifteen minutes.

I finger rapidly through the next ten or so pages, barely paying any mind to what is on the pages, when I spy something curious. Quickly, I flip the page back to what had caught my eye.

"No fricking way!" I whisper gasp. Mr. Foster glances over curiously, but I move quickly to sit beside East. "What the hell is this?" I whisper, leaning close as I point to the page of some charity ball back when the magazine had been published.

Besides the main photograph, some movie star and his supermodel wife, there are a bunch of smaller photographs of other couples attending the event. In one of these photos is a lovely, curvy redhead staring starry-eyed at her date, a well-groomed, greying at the temples, and a few years younger Vincent Mazzuchelli.

East rips the magazine from my hands and practically slaps the page to her face as she takes a closer look.

"Whoisthat?" she whispers, placing the magazine back on the table between us.

"You’re his daughter, you tell me!"

"I honestly have no clue!" East says, her eyes squinting as she skims the article. "There is nothing in the story about him."

I point underneath the photo. "All it says here is 'Renowned businessman Vincent Mazzuchelli and his date'," I quote. "He has never mentioned a woman before?"

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