AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Could you not have at least found him a decent suit? He’s an embarrassment.”
No, Jethro’s suit wasn’t one of the ten-thousand dollar bespoke beauties hanging in her father’s closet, but she thought he looked rather dashing all the same—would probably look even more so if he were less uncomfortable in it.
He clearly didn’t wear a suit often which was fine with her. He was drool-worthy in his Henleys and his flannels and his jeans and work boots. Or his Santa suit. Whatever did it for a girl.
“He looks fine, Mother. I appreciate you including him.”
“It was a nightmare to redo the entire seating chart. And for that.”
Her mother was clearly unimpressed and that was fine. What else was new? Jethro could’ve shown up in a suit straight from Savile Row and she’d still find something faulty.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about?”
“I don’t like that man, Sable.”
“Yes, I know. Was there something else?”
Her mother’s mouth pursed into a bud of disapproval. “No need to be fresh with your mother, young lady. I don’t think he’s a good choice for you.”
“Because he’s a farmer?”
“Sable Blair Hollingsford, I don’t appreciate your sarcasm.”
Sable wanted to tell her mother it didn’t seem that she appreciated anything about Sable, so what was the point in trying to please her? But she also wanted to get this over with as soon as possible and being borderline rude wasn’t going to move this along.
“Anyway, aside from his inability to dress and his occupation being so…earthy, he seems to have latched onto you rather abruptly.”
Yes, things were moving kind of fast, but—
“You have to be wondering if he isn’t after your money.”
“Jethro has never said a word about—”
Her mother pooh-poohed her with a wave of her manicured hand, weighed down by several carats of diamonds.
“Of course he hasn’t. They never do. Have you looked into his financials? It could be his little farm is in distress. Tax evasion, that sort of thing. You never know with these companies who hire migrant labor.”
If ever there was a time for a facepalm, this would’ve been it.
“I’ll ask for a prenup. Are you happy?”
“Like he’ll sign anything of the sort,” her mother scowled. “He’s very controlling, don’t you see that? Forcing you to wear this monstrosity when you’re perfectly fine.”
Given that her shoulder was starting to ache, no. She wasn’t.
“I’m not—”
“And you’ve barely been back to your apartment since you met him. Only twice in almost a week. I’m sure he’s a good fuck, but darling, please. He’s taking advantage of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he hired that so-called mugger to attack you so he could swoop in and be the hero.”
That—that wasn’t true. Couldn’t be true. Jethro couldn’t have even known she’d be at the club. Right? She could’ve sworn he’d looked just as shocked as she’d felt seeing him.
But what if he and Hudson had…conspired in some way? Which didn’t make any sense given that Hudson had asked her a favor at the last second and had no guarantee she’d say yes. But the thought still made her uneasy. Yes, she sometimes liked to be treated as an object to be passed off, but only under very specific—and imaginary—circumstances. Realizing also that no one had told her whether they’d found Trent or what had happened made her even more uneasy—her stomach soured.
But then something else occurred to her.
“How do you know I’ve only been at my apartment twice this week?”
