Summer's End (Wildflowers #5) - Jill Sanders Page 0,48
you to hear,” he said, his voice echoing in the marble room. “Well, come in.” He turned and disappeared into the house.
Aubrey looked up at him, and he realized that she’d been shaken at seeing the man again. His arms tightened slightly around her.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Instead of answering, she nodded.
Walking through the gold gates, they passed by a twisted gold and iron staircase. A two-story gold chandelier hung over the marble stairs. There were even gold-leaf decorations on the ceiling that twisted around the staircase. There was no comfortable furniture. Instead, antique furniture, no doubt more expensive than anything he’d ever own, was neatly placed around the rooms.
There were no warm rugs, no tasteful paintings hanging on the walls. Actually, the only thing decorating the walls was a massive mirror with a gold leaf frame that hung over a matching table.
When they stepped into a two-story study, he realized that this was the room where Harold Smith spent most of his time.
Here there was warm wood and comfortable leather chairs that faced a massive desk, which sat in front of a fireplace. A fire crackled in its massive hearth, warming the space.
Harold moved over and sat behind the desk before motioning to the two leather chairs. “Sit,” he demanded.
Aubrey moved to the other side of the desk, but instead of sitting, placed her hands on the wood and leaned across it.
“You had your lawyers lie to me? Why?” she demanded.
“Did he actually tell you I was dead?” he asked. Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. Her father’s left eyebrow rose slightly. “How else was I supposed to get you back here? You’ve made it very apparent that, short of my death, nothing would bring you back to the city.”
Aubrey’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve had your fun…” She turned and grabbed his hand and started pulling him towards the door.
“Aubrey,” her father’s voice boomed. “Enough games.”
She stilled and glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t play games. I’m not the one who lied to get me back here.”
Harold opened his mouth to answer, but just then his gaze moved to a spot beyond them.
Aiden and Aubrey both turned and watched a young blond-haired woman stroll into the room as if she was late for the party.
The fact that the woman was wearing diamonds and an evening gown in the middle of the day had them both stopping.
Then Aubrey stiffened.
“Bridgett?” Aubrey gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter 15
Aubrey had only seen pictures of the woman before. Wedding pictures of the woman standing in front of them now with Zoey and Scarlett’s father, Jean Rowlett.
But Aubrey knew all about Bridgett Rowlett. The woman, who was a mere fifteen years older than she was, had been the cause of her best friends’ parents’ divorce.
Shortly before Zoey and Scarlett’s father’s death of cancer two years ago, Bridgett had divorced Jean Rowlett, owner of R&R Enterprises, a company whose power and reach rivaled that of one of her own father’s businesses.
When Bridgett found out about her ex-husband’s death, she’d tried everything she could to get her hands on the man’s remaining money. But their father had changed his will after the divorce and the sisters had spent some of their inheritance on helping out with the camp.
The sisters had decided to use it to build a few more cabins, which had boosted the business greatly.
Bridgett narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you?” It was the slight smile on the woman’s lips that had Aubrey’s temper growing.
“Don’t play games with me,” Aubrey hissed. She stormed across the room towards the woman.
How the hell had her father and Bridgett met in the first place? Was she working for her father?
Had Bridgett learned about Aubrey being Zoey and Scarlett’s friend and then hunted down her father in hopes of getting her hands on his money like she had Jean Rowlett’s?
Zoey had informed her that Bridgett had gotten a lot of their father’s money in the divorce, but the last she’d heard, the woman had blown through it. The last the friends had heard of Bridgett, she had been working as a dancer in Vegas.
How long had she been in New York?
Aubrey watched Bridgett lay her hands, which had extremely long manicured fingernails painted in a hot pink, on her father’s shoulders, as if they belonged there.
“I’m best friends with Zoey and Scarlett Rowlett,” Aubrey answered as she crossed her arms over her chest.
She watched the woman’s reaction and noticed the lack of surprise in her eyes.