Chapter 5 #2
Right. Still stuck in a romance novel, though at least now I was a very relaxed version of the villain.
“Mrs. Everett?” The spa attendant’s voice was gentle. “Would you like help getting dressed?”
Help getting dressed? Was that actually a thing? “No, I’m good. Thanks.” I sat up, clutching the plush robe around me. My wine-stained blouse hung accusingly on a nearby hanger.
Sam materialized with shopping bags. “I’ve brought several options from the designer boutique?—”
“Thanks, Sam, but the blouse is fine.” At her horrified look, I added, “We’re just heading home anyway.”
Her expression suggested I’d proposed wearing a trash bag to a royal wedding.
The spa staff’s faces as I walked out in Victoria’s wine-decorated designer blouse were priceless.
Phones appeared and disappeared like nervous butterflies as I passed.
I caught their wide-eyed stares—probably shocked to see the perfectly polished Mrs. Everett walking around in a stained blouse like a mere mortal.
Back at the penthouse, I dismissed Sam for the day, ignoring her concerned glances at my stained blouse. I’d barely settled into the sitting room’s obscenely comfortable chaise—seriously, this thing was like sitting on a cloud made of money—when my phone rang.
Elizabeth Hayes. Perfect. Nothing says relaxing evening quite like your mother’s disapproval in surround sound.
“Victoria.” Her voice had the kind of chill factor usually reserved for Arctic expeditions.
“Hello to you too, Mother.” I stretched out on the chaise, admiring how the wine stain made an almost artistic pattern.
“I’ve had to watch that video seventeen times.” Ice cubes clinked in what I assumed was definitely not her first drink of the day. “Seventeen times, Victoria. And I still cannot believe what I’m seeing. My daughter, manhandling socialites like some… some…”
“Responsible adult breaking up a fight?”
“Like your sister!” She practically spat the word. “Do you have any idea what this is doing to our reputation? The notifications won’t stop. Charlotte’s foundation board members are beside themselves. The Ashworths aren’t sure they can seat you next to their son at the benefit gala?—”
“Mother, nobody got hurt?—”
“Nobody got hurt?” Her voice rose an octave. “What about our family’s dignity? What about your father’s blood pressure? He’s had our lawyers working, trying to contain this… this…”
“Social media sensation?”
“Don’t you dare sound proud of this.” More ice clinked. “First, you show up in that garish shade of green?—”
“It was emerald, Mother. Hardly a scandal.”
“Then you actually eat during a charity luncheon?—”
“The horror of sustenance.”
“And now this… this bouncer behavior! I’ve spent thirty years cultivating our family’s image, Victoria. Thirty years! And you destroy it in one afternoon with your… your…”
“Conflict resolution skills?”
“This is not funny!” Something slammed—probably her empty glass. “Your father and I expect you at dinner tomorrow night. Seven o’clock sharp.”
I examined Victoria’s perfect manicure. “Actually?—”
“This is not a request, Victoria Alexandra Hayes Everett.” Full name deployment—she must be really wound up.
I tilted my head, pleasantly surprised. Alexandra? That wasn’t in the book. Nice to know Victoria had at least one pretty thing about her, even if it was just her middle name.
“Seven o’clock. Wear something appropriate. And for heaven’s sake, try to remember you’re a Hayes woman, not some… some nightclub security personnel!”
She hung up before I could suggest that nightclub security probably had better work-life balance than Hayes women.
I stared at the phone, counting down. Three… two… one…
It rang again.
“And change that blouse immediately!” Click.
I rolled my eyes so hard I probably pulled something. “Gregory?” I called out, heading toward the kitchen. After that performance, I needed comfort food that didn’t come in a microwave container.
He appeared in his pristine chef’s whites, looking both professional and slightly concerned. I wondered if he’d seen the video too.
“Yes, Mrs. Everett?”
“I need something…” I hopped onto one of the kitchen island’s stools, the wine-stained blouse probably giving Gregory heart palpitations.
“Something amazing. Decadent. The kind of meal that makes you forget your mother just compared you to a bouncer and meant it as an insult.” I spun slowly on the stool, enjoying how un-Victoria-like it probably looked.
“Surprise me? After the day I’ve had—and the dinner I’m apparently having tomorrow—I deserve something special. ”
A small smile tugged at his lips. Was that approval? “Perhaps the duck confit? With truffled potatoes and that chocolate soufflé you never let me make because it’s too many calories?”
My eyes widened. Duck confit? Real truffles? And chocolate soufflé that wasn’t from a box mix? This was definitely better than my usual post-mom-drama meal of instant ramen and self-pity.
“Gregory, you beautiful culinary genius.” I beamed at him. “Yes. All of it. And maybe some of that fancy wine that goes with duck?”
“Of course, Mrs. Everett.” That was definitely approval in his eyes now.
As I watched him begin his culinary magic, I couldn’t help but smile. Let Elizabeth Hayes clutch her pearls over her daughter’s social media infamy. Let the whole Upper East Side gossip about Victoria Everett’s new bouncer career.
At least I’d end this crazy day with duck confit and chocolate soufflé. And tomorrow… tomorrow I’d finally meet my beloved Sophia.
Sometimes being the villain had its perks.
Two hours later, I was curled up on the most comfortable couch known to mankind, surrounded by plates. I’d changed into the softest sweatpants and t-shirt I’d ever worn. The massive TV screen displayed my latest Korean drama obsession—episode six of The CEO’s Secret Heart.
“Oh, come on, Hyun-woo!” I gestured at the screen with my fork, savoring another bite of the duck confit. “She’s obviously not the one trying to take over your company. Aish! (Ugh!) It’s your evil stepmother! Again! Pabo! (Fool!)”
I caught movement in my peripheral vision—Maria, the younger of the two sisters who worked as maids in the household, had slowed her dusting to watch the screen.
Her face showed the same investment I felt watching the handsome chaebol CEO nearly catch the beautiful department store worker practicing her sales pitch in the executive elevator.
“Omo! (Oh my!) Did you see that?” I whispered, making Maria jump. “The way he looked at her? That’s what we call eye-chemistry. Or in Korean drama terms, some serious visual tension.”