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“The Sun,” Lydia Henderson told him.
Justin shook his head. “That’s a tabloid, Mum.”
“It was a fun read,” Lydia laughed.
“You read gossip about your own son?”
“Like I said, it’s fun.”
“And it puts ideas in your head, Mum,” Justin told her.
“Mum, shall I stop the movie?” Louisa asked.
“Yes, yes, dear. Justin and I have a lot of catching up to do. Care for some red?” she asked her son.
“It’s been a long day,” he began, but he stopped seeing his mother’s look. “Fine, maybe a glass or two.”
They had wine at the patio, facing the other houses that lined the quiet street. Two of their four cars were parked outside by the curb. The air was cool and his mother expertly poured him a glass.
“I hope you have time for us tomorrow. Well, the whole engagement proper isn’t until Thursday.”
“I have to see the office tomorrow morning. Maybe in the afternoon?”
“It’s been handled fine. You know I still oversee a few things.”
“You don’t even like visiting the office.”
“It’s not the only place I get to visit when I go,” Lydia said, referring to their meager thirty-five story building downtown, prime property that everyone wanted to snatch the moment other businessmen thought Henderson Steel would falter the moment Justin took over.
“Why stay in America, though?”
“Because we’re fairly new there,” Justin reasoned, “and I’m far away from those godforsaken paparazzi.”
“You can always ignore them.”
“I can’t relax or date anyone properly with those cameras and nosy reporters breathing down my neck.”
“Speaking of media, there will be a few media on the engagement day.”
“You turned this into some celebrity affair?” Justin began, “Mum—”
“Hear me out first, Justin. First off he’s the son of the Leader of the House of Commons, so that’s to be expected. Second, his mother works as society columnist at the Daily UK, that’s expected too.”
Justin sighed. He had wished for a low key engagement party. He had nearly forgotten that his sisters were socialites, although he hated the term. It couldn’t be helped, they were a prominent family, after all. For all he knew, Mrs. Murray was in on it, writing articles about him and his billionaire lifestyle. The paparazzi were lenient on his sisters though, and for that he was glad. Perhaps it was because they were low key, and didn’t like partying much in public. The media liked it when one made public disturbances and embarrassments. He dated a lot of women, and according to some claims “broke a lot of hearts.”
“Which hotel?” he asked immediately.
“Rosewood London.”
Great, he thought. “Couldn’t you have found a newer place?”
“I happen to be comfortable with Rosewood, and so do the Murrays. Beatrice was all for it, too.”
Justin knew this was going to be some high tea session, with a professional photographer and knolls of flowers from Lydia’s garden for ambience. He knew he would not spare any expense for this, seeing how his family was richer than the Murrays. The Murrays had to know who they were dealing with, and Justin would send this off as a subtle warning.
He nodded, knowing there was no way out of this. “All right. Any arrangements I need to make?
“All taken care of. Why would you spend a measly week with us just to plan an engagement party?”
