Page 16 of Princess of Pride
“Mom?”
“Yes?” Her tone is gentle as she plays with the hem of her dress, probably planning my entire wedding in her head.
“When I open my bookstore, will you help me design it?” For all her drinking and blasé behavior, she’s incredible at those things. With years of planning multiple parties and events, she’s more than capable of helping me create the bookstore of my dreams.
“And when would that be, dear?” She rings the bell on the table, summoning Zelda.
Zelda appears as if she were outside the door waiting. “Mrs. Spencer?”
Candace is the only housekeeper allowed to address Mom by her first name. Priscilla.
“Take these away and bring me my phone. I’ve misplaced it again.”
Zelda removes it from her uniform pocket. “Candace found it in the hall.”
“Wonderful.” Mom beams and snatches it from the housekeeper.
Zelda picks up the drinks. “Would you like anything else?”
“A gin and tonic would be nice, extra lime.”
“Certainly, Mrs. Spencer.” She looks at me for my order.
“I’m fine. I’m leaving actually.” I stand.
“Whatever for?” Mom pouts. “I thought we could scroll through dresses on the boutique site.”
“I’d rather wait until I can try them on.” And make sure my boobs don’t look huge.
She waves her hand down. “Oh, you’re no fun.”
And you can’t even remember that I just asked about my bookstore and if you’d help.
“Don’t go disappearing. We have dinner tonight to celebrate the arrangement.”
I roll my eyes. How many celebrations do we need? I wouldn’t even care if we eloped. Wait. That’s not a bad idea. Even better, we don’t have to elope, we can pretend we did, and no one would know the truth.
If I leave with Lachlan on one of his business trips, we could lie and say we eloped. If he—we—travel to a place where my family can’t just drop in, I won’t have to endure them anymore or be around Lachlan. He’ll be busy with work. I’ll beleft on my own to focus on my business plan and get ideas. I could do whatever I want. Based on how he acts, Lachlan would prefer I not be around him, even if we’re under the same roof.
Mom won’t be able to summon me home. I’ll be with my husband. I might be able to convince Lachlan to have my back and agree to no wedding. It’s not like the event is for him or me. It’s for my parents. And it’s always at the estate. They do it at home so they can control every detail and so no uninvited journalists can get in.
From what I’ve heard about Lachlan, he’s persuasive with Dad at a level others haven’t been able to reach. I just have to figure out how to convince him this is what’s best for us. And by us, I mean me.
I stand taller, proud of myself for coming up with such a great plan.
Mom takes me in. “Now that is the posture and smile I expect to see on your wedding day.”
Not if I can help it. “Mother.” I excuse myself with a girly curtsey and pretend to head for my bedroom.
Instead, I take a back hallway toward Dad’s office. The door is closed, so I creep to it and press my ear against the wood frame, listening.
“Is this a habit of yours?” a man’s voice sounds from a darkened alcove.
I cover my mouth to stop the scream, my muscles locking tight.
Lachlan emerges from the shadows. His phone is in one hand while his other is stuffed in his pocket. Damn, he looks good in his blue suit, which is more nautical than the steel color he wore yesterday.
“Were you spying on me?” I accuse in a whisper.
