Page 153 of Violet

He texts back.

Idiot

Five minutes later, I get one more text. My heart skips a beat then stutters and turns to stone.

I don’t want your money. Heath will return it.

“Fuck me.”

Pen sighs, pushes a drink across the table. “Not going well?”

“She won’t accept a thing from me. Not one fucking thing.”

“Have you thought,” Pen says, “that you’re doing it wrong?”

I pick up the drink and frown. “How am I doing it wrong?”

“Grand gestures are nice, but the small ones, those matter.” She shrugs.

“Like what?”

Pen only smiles. “That’s the thing about the small ones. They come from the heart or not at all.”

Hivemind.

Remember when our Luxe and her movie star took off and made an Emporian splash?

Yes, me too.

WHERE ARE THEY?

Or

Where is our LUXE?

We all know trouble in Emporia is broadcast in dark, black, blank silence.

Troubling, I know.

Mrs. St. James isn’t a boat-rocker. She isn’t even a boat-roller. So there’s no tea to spill. No hot topic gossip abouther.

So, it must be

HIM.

Asher.

But what? They were the darlings there same as here without any effort and her real Luxe quality shone.

(Seriously, that dress! Anyone? The short sequined number? Who knew she hid such fantastic billion-dollar legs?)

The Monarch has decreed a penultimate ball of the Season and they’re meant to star. At least that’s the rumor I hear from those in the know. He’s back on the island, so we must assume she is too.

Together or apart, we won’t know, and until there’s an official announcement about whether the Luxe and her mate are attending, we won’t get closer to the truth.

Scandal? Or just mated life?

I don’t know…

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