I was barely listening to him. Saffron’s heels clicked on the floor, drawing my eye to her. My attention had gone to the sexy woman cat-walking away. I should run over to her and apologize. What I said in there was mean, and I was sure, for whatever reason she was taking those pills, it wasn’t because she’s a drug addict. I should have
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” The foreman snatched my attention away from Saffron. “Unless of course you have a meeting, then we can do it later,” he added when he saw my grimace.
“No, it’s fine. What is it?” I said, but I was barely taking in what he was saying. My thoughts were on the woman who was going to dominate my mind for the rest of the day.
Chapter 10
Saffron
Ientered my tiny apartment and threw myself onto my bed after kicking my shoes off. I was beat, and my feet throbbed from walking all day in heels. Heels were amazing. I loved them, but, my god, they were painful.
After the excruciating meeting with that asshole, the remainder of the day flew past in a blur. It was exactly as I intended. It meant I didn’t have to think about him or what had happened in the elevator. But then, at the end of the day, an email from Tyler’s project manager popped into my inbox. Tyler signed off on the changes. All of them. I should have been happy, but the news made me want to hurl my laptop. He fucked with me just to turn around and do what he was supposed to do, anyway.
I cast Tyler to the back of my mind and checked my texts. My aunt messaged me earlier asking if I was free for dinner. I responded with a resounding yes. Even though my bones protested, I’d rather do anything than think about work.
Aunt Pamela’s place was a walk from my own. It would take me little time to get there, despite my tiredness. I got out of my bed, wore a casual dress, and got out of the studio. The rush-hour bustle had slowed down, making the streets pleasant to walk in. First stop was the bakery on the way that sold her favorite cannoli. Second was the one that sold her favorite cherrypie. I bought a slice, and I arrived at her place with boxes full of pastries.
“You’re later than usual,” my aunt said after we had made our regular greetings. She was living in the same place she had lived ever since my father fell from grace. Her apartment was the only valuable asset that remained in the Channing family estate after Dad ran through its holdings. It was spacious and cozy. But that was not how Pamela saw it. Living in it was a constant reminder of how life could have been so much better if she were still in the lap of luxury. And she liked luxury. I spotted a Dior gift bag she had immediately taken to her bedroom when I entered. Where she found the money to buy expensive items, I never knew, but then again, a single childless woman like her could ostensibly save money and splurge from time to time.
“I brought you your favorite dessert,” I said, entering the kitchen and placing the boxes on the counter.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Aunt Pamela was behind me, looking over my shoulder eagerly. The kitchen smelled of delicious roasted potatoes and rotisserie chicken. Knowing her, she had already made dinner before she called me. “How’s your job? Is the new client treating you well?”
“Uh…yeah.” I went to the cupboard and took out a couple of plates and cutlery, hiding my face from her. “They’re exacting, but it’s nothing I’ve never experienced before.”
“It will work out. Business is hard when you’re starting out.”
“I know.” It was difficult to tell her that the person who had given us the contract was my husband, who refused to divorce me.
We settled at the small dining room table and helped ourselves to the meal. For a child who grew up with chefs and maids cooking for her, Aunt Pamela was an exceptional cook. The buttery potatoes melted in my mouth, and the chicken was juicy and well-seasoned. Paired with the cheap but flavorfulwine, the entire meal was better than anything you could find in a fine dining restaurant.
“Have you spoken to Tyler Hawthorne recently?” Aunt Pamela was cutting her potatoes into tiny little cubes.
The question almost made me choke on my food. “No, why?”
She shrugged. “No reason. I read an article about him recently. They were going on and on about his magnificent new building; it was just insane the way you could tell the reporter was slobbering over him.” The sneer in her voice was obvious.
“Oh, right.” I'm pretty sure I knew which article she was talking about. It was a puff piece about how Tyler and Sebastian had built affordable housing units that were both accessible and cheap to construct but also beautiful with spacious apartments. It was an over-the-top piece. The reporter made it appear as though Hawthorne and Hawthorne had single-handedly solved the homeless crisis through that one building.
“Why don’t you use his surname? Your surname, really. It could help you get work since the entire city loooves him so much.”
“I thought you hated him and everyone named Hawthorne,” I said.
She scoffed and took a sip of her wine. “Your father hated the Hawthornes. I’m ambivalent.”
I was about to point out it didn’t sound like it from the derisive tone she had when she mentioned the article, but I didn’t want to talk about that man anymore; this dinner was a means for me to forget about him. But since she had brought him up, I might as well tell her what I have been neglecting to say before.
“I don’t think I’ll be legally able to for much longer. I’m divorcing him.”
“Aunt Pamela almost choked on her wine.”
“Did that bastard serve you papers?”
“No. I made the decision to end it. It’s not like it was much of a marriage to begin with, and my father was the one who wanted it, not me.”
“Saff,” she touched her heart. “Don’t say that. Your father went to great lengths to secure that marriage for you.”
Yeah. Including blackmailing the groom and coercing money out of him. “Didn’t stop him from selling me at a marriage market.”
