Page 103 of The Billionaire's Bride
"No," I laugh, "it’s you." I step forward and hug her. "You are glowing," I compliment her.
"So are you." She moves back, looks me up and down, "Yep, definitely glowing."
"Must be the sweat from practice." I chuckle. "I didn’t have time to take a shower."
"We women glow, period." She grins back at me, "You can take a shower in the guest room, if you want."
"Oh, can I?" I cry gratefully. "That would be perfect."
"Come on," she pulls me inside, then glances over her shoulder at the hovering butler. "It’s okay Jeeves," she waves at him, "I’ve got this."
He lurks there for a few more seconds, then half bows. "As you wish, Madam." He pivots and leaves.
"Is his name really Jeeves?" I whisper as she shuts the door behind me.
"No, but he answers to it." She giggles, "And he definitely looks like a Jeeves. I’ve yet to get Sinner to respond to any of my Bertie Wooster jokes though."
"Good luck with that." I frown. "I can’t see the grouchy Sinclair Sterling laughing at anything."
"Oh, he laughs alright; he has a weird sense of humor."
"Only because you bring that out in him." I tilt my head at her.
"Yeah, guess that’s the sign of a healthy relationship, right? I mean, I am sure Baron would laugh at—" her voice trails off. "Jeez, sorry," she blinks rapidly, "didn’t mean to bring the B word into our conversation."
Yeah, well, I’d had a few very drunken nights with the girls over the past week where I had poured out my heart to them.
"It’s okay," I murmur, "I can’t hang around you and the Seven without mention of Baron, or Edward, for that matter."
"Hmm," she peers into my face, "so he hasn’t contacted you at all?"
"Who?"
"You know who I am talking about." She leads me toward the flight of stairs.
"If you mean Baron, no, and I don’t expect him too either."
"Hmm." She huffs again.
"What?" I scowl. "What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Tell me," I pause with my foot on the first step, "please, Summer."
"It’s probably nothing, but Baron has been in touch with the Seven."
"He has?"
"He’s taking an active interest in all of their investments, so he attends all of their calls."
"Oh." I swallow. "And how is he? I mean, has Sinclair mentioned anything—?
She reaches down and grips my shoulder, "He’s apparently, okay, and back in London. He’s staying at a service apartment that he’s renting from Saint."
"A service apartment." I swallow, "You…uh, you don’t happen to have the address, do you?
Her eyes twinkle. She whips out her phone from her pocket and fingers flies across the screen.
