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Little does anyone know my grandfather is controlling us like puppets from the grave.
“I’ve known her for years.” I smile.
“Ah, ok. Well, congratulations on the marriage. I’d love for you to come by my office sometime soon.”
I shake his hand again. “Sure thing. Just call Kurt and we can set something up.” It's an election year, and I know very well why he wants a meeting—campaign money.
Half the people who set up meetings with me want an investment, donation, or employment. The other half want me to buy something. It’s a never ending cycle, when you’re as wealthy as I am.
On my walk toward Clementine, I smile and nod to guests who have drifted out of the ballroom, but my heart isn’t in it. I’m ready for the party to be over and get my soon-to-be bride moved in.
If I could have all her belongings moved in by tonight, I’d be happy. Hell, I’d buy her new stuff, but I know I can’t rush these things.
I know Clementine doesn’t want to be rushed. They cross toward the main entrance of the house and I lengthen my strides to catch up to them.
“Leaving?”
She turns. “Yes. I think Tenny has had enough excitement for today.”
“He can take a nap in his room,” I offer.
She debates for a second before smiling. “No, it’s ok. We really should get going.”
I walk her to the front of the estate, not really wanting her to go. It’s odd how well we worked together tonight.
The valet drops off her Ford and she buckles Tennyson into his seat.
When she closes his door, I say, “I want you to start packing, so you can move in immediately.”
Either Clementine is too tired, or finally defeated, because she doesn’t put up a fight. “Ok.”
She crosses around the car, and slides in the driver seat.
“She’s not as tough as she looks,” Erin says in a low voice.
“I’ll go easy on her.” She studies me a moment and then smiles, before getting in the car.
I watch them drive away, before heading back inside.
Erin is wrong. Clementine is as tough as she looks—maybe even tougher.
