Chapter 17
Jenna
Icheck the time on my phone for the fifth time and press my lips together in a thin line.
It's twenty past one, and she'd clearly specified the venue and stated one o'clock. Stephanie's late.
We're supposed to be having lunch together at Mia's, and here I am, yet there's no sign of her.
She's not answering her phone calls either, and now after twenty minutes of slightly awkward waiting at the table I'd been shown to, I'm officially irritated, as is my server, who no doubt wants his tables to be turned around as quickly as possible so he can seat more guests in this, their busiest time of the day.
As for me, I only allow myself to take a thirty-minute lunch break each day, and I've already wasted most of it. That means I'll probably have to grab something to go and skip a proper break altogether.
I could have been sitting in the park, enjoying nature with a pastrami on rye and a latte right now. Or better yet, I could have been checking out that new Chinese restaurant that's just down the street from my office.
But no. Stephanie wanted to come here, to a trendy skybar full of trendy servers and waitresses, serving tiny portions of food. The staff are starting to shoot me odd looks, and I don't blame them.
I sigh.
I'll give her two more minutes and then I'm out of here.
Just as I make this decision, I spot Stephanie, rushing in with shopping bags in both hands.
"Sorry, I'm late," she says. "You wouldn't believe the traffic."
"Yet you had time to shop at Neiman Marcus right next door," I say, eyeing the bags.
She winks. "You caught me. Sorry, I had a fight with my girlfriend last night and needed some retail therapy. Also, I wanted to get her something to make up for it. Then once I was there, I got distracted, and you know how it goes."
"I do, but I usually don't keep people waiting while I shop. I also make sure I'm reachable by phone."
"Oh, that was you calling? The phone was buzzing in my bag, but I assumed it was Daddy, angry at me for running up the credit card again. I went crazy last summer in Paris, and since then, he's had me on a strict budget."
"Right." Stephanie reminds me a lot of the girls I'd met in my old boarding school.
Spoiled, well-meaning but ultimately completely out of touch with the way the rest of society operates.
She sets no value on other people's time, because she's been taught that other people's desires and wishes can always be moved around to accommodate her anyway.
It's the way things happen when you're that ultra-wealthy.
I used to be resentful, but now I'm just accepting.
It's still irritating, though.
"Oh, and I bought you something," she continues.
"You shouldn't have," I respond, and I realize my voice is perhaps showing a little less enthusiasm about receiving a gift than it would have been if I hadn't endured her brother's shopping spree just two days earlier.
"Oh, it's just something small," she says and opens her shopping bag to rummage around inside.
Eventually, she manages to retrieve what looks suspiciously like a jewelry box.
Taking it from her proffered hand, I see the word Valentino embossed onto the box lid.
I carefully unclasp and pull back the lid.
Inside, I find a very lovely, delicate, and feminine chain bracelet, nestling on the silk cushion inside.
The chain itself is in 18ct yellow gold, with gold stylized roses set into the chain itself at regular intervals.
Each rose petal has been carefully painted in crimson enamel, and a tiny pearl is carefully set in the center of every flower.
The bracelet fastens with a tiny, gold, heart-shaped clasp that is itself a miniature work of art.
The whole thing is perfectly enchanting, and it suits me to a T, as well as looking like it's horribly expensive.
She must have spent a fortune on it.
"I saw it and immediately thought of you. I hope you like it."
"Thanks, yes, I love it. I… I don't know what to say, except you shouldn't have." This was a very thoughtful gift, actually. I wasn't expecting anything from her, or indeed from any member of that family.
"It's fine." She waves a hand. "You're going to be family anyway. This is what family does."
Hmm… this is awkward. It's something I hadn't thought about, but it feels like I'm receiving a gift under false pretenses. What can I do though, when I'm sworn to secrecy and under an NDA not to reveal the truth?
"Right." I'm still not sure if she buys that Grayson and I are dating for real or if she knows this is just a game, so, I play along.
First things first, I need to set the tone moving forward, so she doesn't think she can just walk all over me. I smile sweetly, though my voice stays firm.
"Gift or not, the next time you're more than five minutes late to a date, I'm going to leave," I tell her. "Just so you know. We'll have to tip the server well, because he's really pissed about his table being under-used."
She pauses and leans in to whisper conspiratorially. "Wait, is this a date?"
"No. You know what I mean."
She chuckles. "Yeah, I know. I won't do it again. Probably. As for the server… "She eyes him up and down, assessing his worth. "If he looks after us then I will look after him."
I figure that's as good as I'm going to get from her, so I nod to the server, who comes over to take our order. He looks relieved.
We chitchat until the food arrives, then I finally venture, "So I kind of have a bet with your brother."
Her eyes widen. "A bet? Really? What's it about?"
"I told him that I would get your mother to like me, and in return, I could dress him up however I wanted for a week."
"Ooof. Good luck with that one, babe. That's a steep hill you've chosen to climb."
"I know." I shrug. "But I'm the competitive type and I wanna know. How do I win? What can I do to get your mom to like me?"
She chews thoughtfully, swallows, and takes a sip of her champagne.
"To be honest, probably nothing," she finally says.
"In fact, I can't think of a single thing you could do, short of maybe quitting your job and joining a few women's groups and charities.
That might make her like you. Or anyway, make her hate you a little less.
" She giggles and sips a little more of her champagne, and I somehow get the feeling it's not her first glass of the day.
"I'm not doing that," I say automatically. "I don't have the time."
She shrugs. "Well, there you go."
"She's really that hard to please?"
Steph sighs. "Look," she says, waving her fork at me as she speaks. "It's not about you, I want you to understand that. It's about what you represent."
"And what's that?"
"A mistake. Though my brother'll deny it, you look and act a lot like Marina."
"His ex."
"Yes. She was also beautiful, smart, and ambitious.
She graduated from Harvard with a first in law, became a junior partner in a prestigious New York law firm, and after a couple of years of experience and networking, started out on her own.
That was when Grayson met her. She was working for our holding company at the time.
Something to do with branding and copyright, I think.
Grayson fell madly in love with her, and eventually she moved in with him.
They'd been together for a few years by that point, and I think she wanted to get married sooner, but he'd been kicking his heels, taking his time.
If you know my brother, you know he always takes his time with things like that.
"Anyway, she was very similar to you… a working-class background and a can-do attitude.
Totally self-made. Grayson introduced her to the family, and my mother instantly said, ‘No way.
' She instantly disapproved of her, and put her foot down, but Grayson was stubborn and wouldn't let her go.
In the end, they were forced to reluctantly accept her into the fold.
He didn't give them a choice in the matter. "
"And then what happened?'
She finishes her champagne and waves it vaguely at the server, who nods and brings her another. She takes a sip before she continues.
"Well, I have another brother. George. He's an idiot." She gestures with her glass. "He's typically in London, overseeing the European branch of my dad's company, but he came back to the country during the time of their engagement."
"Wait a minute… Grayson's brother's name is George?"
"Yes, what's wrong with that?"
"Well… George and Grayson. Weird choice of names, that's all I'm saying."
She sighs. "It's like this," she says. Daddy's last name is really O'Reilly.
Michael O'Reilly. He's from a long established Irish family, who came across the Atlantic in the seventies and built hos own empire from literally nothing but the few copper coins he had in his pocket.
Get him on that topic and I swear you'll be there all night.
" She pauses a moment to take another sip of champagne, before continuing.
"When he met Mommy, they fell in love, but she's a Wolfe from a very ancient and high-class line of stewards to the royal family in England, and she refused to marry him unless he adopted her name, instead of the usual way around.
Well, he loved her enough to say yes, and anyway, by then he'd kinda caught the Wolfe disease — thinking we're better than everyone else, I mean.
I was named after Princess Stéphanie of Monaco because she's actually one of my godmothers.
George was named after the famous line of kings that our family had served back in the day, and being the eldest son, Grayson inherited the family name.
It's a medieval term meaning ‘steward of the estate' that was conferred on our family by our royal patrons in the Middle Ages. "