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Sadly, I was unfulfilled, the pomp and circumstance of my life bordering on tedious. However, that wasn’t something I could share with anyone, including my family. They’d use what little uncertainty I had against me. That was the Warrington way, always in competition with each other. Hell, I’d even been in competition with my own mother, who hated the fact I was younger than she was.
Even though at times I questioned not only my sanity but what I was doing with my life, there was one thing I would stand behind. Going home alone every day was a hell of a lot better than my lying, cheating ex-husband and the game of cat and mouse we used to play.
Sadly, I was reminded of what had once been a passionate relationship every day I signed my name. I’d grown my reputation using his name as a selling point, the man considered king of real estate and finance. My boss had insisted I continue using it after my divorce. When I thought about it, I cringed deep inside, which was another reason I’d agreed to attending my brother’s wedding.
If there was a chance to grab the vice president position within my father’s lucrative firm, then I was all for it. Then I’d handle the business and my life the way I wanted.
Even if it meant returning to my father’s scrutinizing and often condescending regime. One day he would retire altogether. While my older brother was slated to take his position, I could handle Steinbeck. A smile crossed my face. Yes, I could be a devious woman when I needed to be. Maybe the fact he was getting married would keep him preoccupied.
I was ready to pitch my suitcase to the floor of the hotel, groaning when I couldn’t find that little skinny mini red dress I’d paid way too much for. It would seem the violet silk that I thought made me look like a weeping flower would need to do. Maybe the reason I wasn’t as organized as usual was that my soon to be sister-in-law had begged me to attend her wedding.
The ugly truth was that I hated my brother, everything about him. As sweet as his fiancée, Ashley, had seemed over the four Facetime calls, it was the offer dangling over my head like a golden carrot from my father that had prompted me into grabbing the last flight out of Atlanta. That had left my packing skills tossed to the wayside.
I tossed a few additional things onto the bed, finally grabbing my makeup bag, phone, and the chosen dress and heading into the bathroom. It would seem a shopping trip was in order. But not until tomorrow. Tonight was about a foray into debauchery.
You mean another one.
A purring chuckle left my lips as I tossed the bag onto the granite counter.
The trip had been arduous, the turbulence remaining as an ugly black spot in my mind. Even the sinful joys of becoming a member of the Mile High Club hadn’t dulled the queasy feeling completely. However, it was nothing a glass or four of cabernet wouldn’t cure. And if I was lucky, some ogling of sexy California men.
At least I’d have the pleasure of spending a few hours with the three other bodacious, talented, and highly sexual women of the Bold and Beautiful Club, which we’d coined for ourselves way back when we were freshmen in college. Another truth was that three of the four had been late bloomers, including me, but that hadn’t stopped us from developing attitudes. Now I laughed at our ridiculous behavior, but the friendships forged would likely last a lifetime.
I glared at the woman in the mirror, savoring the recent change I’d made the moment the divorce had been finalized. The brilliant golden blonde hair suited my fair complexion, accentuating the green in my eyes.
When I heard the singsong of an incoming text, I grinned at my reflection staring back at me. Let the night of debauchery begin.
Morgan:Where are you? We’re all here waiting for our queen.
Me:At the hotel. I’ll be down in a few.
Morgan:Guess what we got for you?
Uh-oh. The women were all wicked, which meant whatever the girls had done should terrify most chicks. Not this girl.
Me:Should I ask?
Morgan:Let’s just say you might have a date for your brother’s wedding.
Shit. I’d made the mistake of telling Morgan, the woman I’d remained closest to, that I hated the idea of showing up to my brother’s wedding without a husband or at least a man on my arm I’d been dating for a long time. My father was stodgy as they came, acting as if I was over the hill already at twenty-nine.
Me:Nice try. Not a chance. You know there isn’t a man alive who can handle me.
Unless it was carnally for a delicious interlude and the man on the plane certainly hadn’t been the type to ask to be my fake anything.
My sentiments were the gods’ honest truth. My ex hadn’t been entirely wrong about the fact I’d turned into an ambitious ice queen, but Christian had known what was most important to me before we’d gone to the justice of the peace on a whim after a night of partying way too late. That had been my largest regret, but one I’d thought would turn out beautifully given who and what the man was. I’d been so wrong it continued to drive me batty.
I tossed the phone then turned on the shower, giving myself a little pep talk. An even uglier truth was that if I arrived at my brother’s wedding festivities, which included several days of family gatherings, with a huge rock on my finger, a fiancé on my arm, my desire to be vice president would be taken more seriously.
My father was just old-fashioned that way.
He’d treated Christian like his long-lost son ready to turn over the secrets of the mighty Warrington Empire. That had infuriated me, which had led to the first huge fight with my ex.
“Stop. That part of your life is over.” I needed a glass of wine.
Grinning, I yanked off my travel attire, not bothering to worry about where I tossed it. As I jumped into the shower, I reminded myself that I was rich, powerful, and a hottie by at least some men’s standards. What I could easily afford to do was to coax a hunk into pretending to be my fiancé for the weekend. I’d buy a little bobble for my ring finger on the way to Napa Valley.
Then the stage would be set for a takedown of my family’s company.
