Following orders like a soldier being led to their slaughter, he stepped onto the raised circular platform without a word. Walking to the worktable, I grabbed the longest piece of blue silk before turning to Preston standing there like a statue—or a mannequin, in this case—and getting close enough to drape it over one of his shoulders.
The second the fabric touched him, he jumped back, nearly stumbling off the podium. Hands held up before him, eyes wide, he asked, “What do you think you’re doing?”
Tilting my head, the long swatch of silk still held in my hands, I replied, “Piecing together a dress. Last time I checked, this was a fashion studio.”
Those hazel eyes flashed gold. Honestly, the past few weeks had been anticlimactic. I’d been too busy with work to focus on provoking a reaction from Preston, and I had to admit, seeing him riled up now, I missed it. Nothing made me feel more alive than having the knowledge that I was the thorn in his side after the years of torture he put me through. He’d do well not to forget I could make his life a living hell. Today would serve as a reminder.
Preston was breathing heavily, trying to control his temper. It took every ounce of willpower not to burst out laughing. This was the stuff sitcoms were made of.
Pretending to be annoyed, I tapped my foot. “I don’t have all day. The sooner I get this dress pinned, the sooner I can hand it off to the seamstresses.”
His eyes floated between my face and the fabric I held in my hands. “You can’t be serious. I’m a man. That’s a dress.”
Rolling my eyes, I retorted, “I’m not stupid, Preston. I know that. This is a plus-sized dress; none of my mannequins are large enough. Your proportions are perfect.”
Panic set in, and he looked around the room, hoping to find something to save him from his fate. His eyes lit up when they landed on Sophie. “Her! She can be your mannequin.”
Sophie’s eyes went wide when she realized he meant her, but I brushed him off. “Oh, Sophie? No, that won’t do. She’s far too short for this dress. The model I have in mind is much closer to your height. Now, if you could please step into the center and stop wasting precious time. We only have a few more days here.”
Preston was observant. No doubt he remembered that I mentioned a December return to Belleston, but it was only the third week in November. If he wanted to get his hopes up of going home early, who was I to crush his spirit? He didn’t need to know that when we boarded the plane, we were crossing the Atlantic. That would be a fun little surprise.
With the hope of getting back to his daily routine and his precious job dangling like a carrot before him, his shoulders slumped, and he stepped forward once more.
Damn, I really thought this was going to be the one that sent him running home with his tail between his legs, but to my chagrin, he stood there for two hours while I pinned the dress together around his body.
This was going to be harder than I thought, and time was running out.
Chapter 13
Lucy
Preston was suspicious whenwe boarded the private jet to find Amy and Liam waiting for us on board, but seeing a friendly face distracted him enough that he didn’t ask questions. It didn’t sink in until the third hour of the flight, when he checked his watch and realized that we should have already landed in Belleston.
When he looked to his friend for answers, Liam was visibly uncomfortable. I felt slightly guilty for placing him in the middle of our war when he asked me to leave him out, but it couldn’t be helped. This was part of Amy’s plan, after all. I was sure she’d make it up to him once we landed and they were back in their natural habitat—if Milan was my escape, then Connecticut was theirs.
After nine hours in the air, we landed in Hartford, Connecticut, and Preston was a bomb, ready to explode. Somewhere over the ocean, he figured out that the time difference would make working impossible.
Another point for me. I hadn’t been keeping score, but if forced to guess, I’d say the scales were tipped in my favor.
Two black SUVs were waiting on the tarmac, and I quickly grabbed Amy’s arm and jumped into one so the boys would be forced to ride together. After nine hours spent in a metal tube with Preston, I needed some breathing room.
The ride to the gated community where Amy and Liam lived was short. As luck—or fate—would have it, Natalie and Jaxon lived next door to my brother and his wife. Over the years, they played a little game of musical houses. Natalie, Amy, and Liam had once lived in the big house with the kids, with Jaxon as their neighbor. Lines were crossed, leading to Natalie and Jaxon’s relationship, as well as Amy and Liam’s, so they swapped. It was perfect, really. They found the loves of their lives and kept their best friend close—if you could no longer live together, living next door was the next best thing.
Wasting no time, I barely waited for the tires of the SUV to stop before jumping out. The second car was pulling up behind us in the drive of Amy and Liam’s house as I grabbed my bags from the trunk. I heard the doors open behind me as I made a beeline for the path that led to Natalie’s house.
“Where are you going?” Preston’s weary voice called out.
Why did he even care?
Turning to face him, I threw a thumb over my shoulder. “Natalie’s house. I’m staying there. You’re staying here.”
He simply shrugged in response. I was sure he needed a break from me as much as I needed one from him. Amy left her bags for Liam, and met me at the entrance to the path.
Liam groaned. “Ames, where are you going?”
Amy bit her lip, slightly conflicted, before answering, “Girls’ night?”
Running a hand down his face, Liam grumbled, “Of course. Why wouldn’t you plan for a girls’ night the second we get off a trans-Atlantic flight? Makes perfect sense. I’m going to bed.”
