Page 95 of Bad Little Bride

“Enzo knew before I did that Philip’s family was angry with my dad for his refusal of even allowing a conversation about an arranged marriage,” I say as I stand, stripping off the pajamas I put on after my shower and tying the robe over me instead. “I guarantee he knows more about the Mitchells than I do.” I step in front of the mirror, admiring the piece all over again.

It looks even better than it did in the store this afternoon.

“And if he doesn’t, he will after you tell him, likely before your visitors.”

Spinning, I lean against the mirror, crossing my arms, and ask the question I’ve been wondering all day. “Why did he allow them past the guards?”

“For you.” My head tugs back and she rolls her eyes. “When you came to Mr. Fikile, it was widely rumored he was after your father’s position. Now, you’re engaged, and that position belongs to Mr. Bishop. Trusting him around you, if you could call it that being every guard on payroll was hidden around the grounds hours before their arrival, was to show you what your impending union means to him. And before you make some sort of joke, let me assure you, the sentiment is unmatched.”

Trusting him around me…

A thought hits me then, and I glare at the diamond studded heels she picked today that I have no intentions of ever stepping into. “Do you know who Nicholas Galley is?”

Grandma stills for a single second, then continues unboxing the items she refuses to let me help with. “I do.”

My eyes narrow and I step beside her. “At the club, after Enzo?—”

“Was blinded by possessiveness and pulled an Enzo?” she offers.

A smile tugs at my lips, and I nod. “Yes, that. Nicholas called him boss. Does he work for Enzo?”

“Mr. Fikile employs many people.”

“What was he hired for exactly?”

“Mr. Fikile employs many people for many things.”

“Grandma!”

“I despise that name,” she mumbles, finally facing me. “Has Mr. Fikile ever required the particular services the Galleys provide, yes.” She tips her head, pinning me with a very mother-like expression. “Judging by your line of questioning and the look in your eye, he’s worked for you too, something you may need to discuss with your fiancé.”

The problem with a motherly expression? It doesn’t exactly work on me being I grew up without one. So I only shrug, having zero intentions of telling him. “If that’s the case, then Enzo probably already knows.”

“Probably, but you should still tell him.”

“Because he’s so forthcoming with me.”

She follows me out of the room, turning on the firepit and opening the giant wall of windows, revealing the stars in the distance. “I’m not sure you realize the power you hold here, Miss Revenaw. If you want to know something, you need only ask.”

I grin, tipping my head. “This is me asking.”

“Mmhmm. You know what I’m saying to you. Don’t be cute.”

A genuine smile reaches my lips and I step out onto the patio as she does, watching as she fluffs the cushions and adjusts the chairs that were perfectly fine to begin with. “Would you like a glass of wine on the patio to end your evening?” she asks.

“That sounds nice, thank you.” My gaze follows hers as she moves back inside the room, snagging on a corner door I never noticed before. It sits alone at the farthest edge of the room, almost tucked away in a small conclave you have to be looking at from this general angle in order to spot. “Where does that door lead?”

A moment passes and she doesn’t respond, so I spin to ask again, assuming she didn’t hear me, only to find her standing still, eyes locked on mine.

A haze sweeps over me, but the longer we stare at one another, the clearer it becomes. She heard me.

She just doesn’t want to answer.

“That door,” I press, this time more firmly. “Where does it lead?”

Her expression is as blank as the day I met her, chin held high.

“A room,” is all she says.

---