Page 53 of The Forever Promise

I know the truth about you

I am going to tell that husband that you’re a no-good whore who turned her back on her family

Just like your mother. A fucking stuck-up bitch!

My blood was boiling by the time I put the phone down. Call me a bitch, tell me how I’m selfish, do what you like. But insult mymother? My dead mother, the only person in the world who ever looked out for Noah and me?

My father had been living with Lydia before my parents were even divorced. Not that it was her job, but sheneverencouraged him to spend time with us or help out. When we’d occasionally stay with them, she treated us like we were a nuisance. And she was threatening to fuckmyshit up? She was the one who needed to watch out, the leech-faced whore!

Boiling blood aside, and wondering whether it was technically possible to be leech-faced aside, I recognized that I had a problem. Lydia could and absolutely would come after me. She wanted money; she wanted all the money. I needed to deal with her before she got even more out of control.

I took a deep breath and dialed her number.

It went straight to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message, I sent a text instead.I’m sorry you’re upset, I wrote, even though that was a lie. I hoped Lydia would be so upset that she’d go die in a hole.Please tell me how much more money you need. I’ll see what I can do.I hit “send,” and the messages turned green, which I thought meant they hadn’t been delivered yet. I still shut down my phone and sighed. She’d see them soon enough. And then she could ask for the sun and the moon, and I would have to give them to her.

I took a shower and trudged to my room to get dressed. I felt lost without Bryce by my side, disheartened by the texts from Lydia, and just generally down. Maybe because yesterday had been such a high, I mused. All the sex, all the attention, the puppy, the pool, the fun dinner. Maybe I should remember next time not to fly so close to the sun. There was no good outcome: either I would get burned, or I would wilt as soon as the weather changed.

Midge wasn’t in my room. She’d left me a note.

I’m helping out at the older Mr. Windsor’s today, so I won’t see you. I left an outfit on the bed. Please do Midge a favor and wear mascara like a good girl! Get breakfast, and then you have a meeting with Olivia Jensen at eight out on the patio.

See you tonight. I think you have another dinner?

Never fear—I’ll find something sexy for you to wear!

xxoo

Midge

I eyed the outfit on the bed—linen shorts and a nice tank, nothing too fancy. I breathed a sigh of relief. It definitely wasn’t a “going on national television” outfit. It appeared I was safe, at least for now. I took a shower, dressed, obediently put on mascara, and headed for the kitchen. After grabbing a yogurt parfait and an extra-large coffee from Chef, I headed to find Olivia Jensen.

Once again, Hazel sprung out at me from a shadowy part of the hallway. “Gah!” I nearly spilled my coffee. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this!”

She didn’t appear to get the joke. “Good morning, Mrs. Windsor.” By the way she scowled, she didn’t seem to think it was really all that good.

“G-Good morning. What’s up? I was just on my way to meet Olivia Jensen.”

“Yes, I heard.” She pursed her lips. “Mr. Windsor wanted you to know that he’ll be in meetings all day. He expects to see you this evening for dinner.”

“Okay, thanks. TellhimI said thanks?” Why was he using his creepy maid as an intermediary? “Is there some reason he can’t talk?”

“He’sverybusy. He wanted to make sure you got the message, so he asked me to find you.” She straightened her shoulders and raised her chin. Being needed by her precious Mr. Windsor must make her feel proud. “And might I add something?”

“Sure, Hazel.” I braced myself.

“He seemed under a lot of stress this morning. I would’ve expected that he’d be in a better mood, given the outing you had yesterday.” Her tone sounded vaguely accusatory like I’d failed him in some way.

Did Hazel know that Bryce and I had literally had sex about athousandtimes yesterday? And that I’d clung to him in our bed last night and fallen asleep in his arms? I hadn’t failed him! I was absolutely doing my best. I was on my way to a meeting with stupid Olivia Jensen just to make him happy!

“We had a tough meeting with his father after the interview aired. I don’t think he slept well,” I explained.

Hazel hesitated. “May I…comment?”

I swallowed hard. “Sure…?”

“He needs your loyalty. Your support,” she said. “Mr. Windsor has worked his entire life to grow his company. I can tell that his stress level’s increasing. If whatever you’re doing isn’t helping enough, you might want to consider doing…more.”

Give him a thousand-and-one orgasms instead of just a thousand? Go on national television and tell the world that not only is my husband the youngest and the best-looking billionaire in the world, but he’s also the hottest in bed? And that he’d do a much better job running his company than his douche father?

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