She’d been working too hard. Why hadn’t he thought of getting her out of town?
Ben gave his shoulder a shove. “I assume from the smoke coming out of your ears that you’ve decided to join?”
He was supposed to be avoiding her, dammit. The timing couldn’t have been worse. When he noticed Ben watching him curiously, he stalled. “Uh. Where is everyone staying?” Where will Abby be staying? Will she be safe?
“That’s kind of the crazy part.” Ben adjusted his glasses. “Honey was all set to book some affordable motel until Abby casually mentioned her family owns an estate in Southampton. A big one. We’re staying there.”
Russell’s stomach sank to the ground. An estate in Southampton. He could work seven days a week for the rest of his life and never give her that. Was there even a point in trying? Yeah. Fuck yeah there was . . . it was Abby. But he needed more time. He’d had a damn plan up until a minute ago. Now he was facing two days of being in the same house with Abby, knowing she was sleeping down the hall and wanting to continue what they’d started. A nightmare and a dream come true, rolled together in a ball of total mindfuckery.
“Look, I checked, and there are enough bedrooms for you to keep Abby in the friend zone. If that’s what you want.” When Russell only stayed quiet, Ben laughed. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, man, but if Honey was going to be in a bikini on the beach, the only single girl in the bunch, I’d be shitting a brick.”
“I’ll go,” Russell grated. “I’m going.”
IT WAS SATURDAY morning. Abby should have been packing her travel case for a lazy, sunshine-laced weekend with her friends. Instead, she was staring over the top of her Mac computer screen at the company’s lawyer, Mitchell, and one visibly irritated stepmother. Her stepmother, to be exact.
Abby had woken early, thinking to drop into the office to tie up some loose ends so she could relax over the weekend, but she’d stumbled upon a meeting between her stepmother and Mitchell, who were less than enthused about her impromptu vacation. Oh, they were trying to hide it, but her stepmother’s tell had always been rummaging through her purse. And the Balenciaga bag had been rummaged within an inch of its three-thousand-dollar life.
“You’ll be on call, though, won’t you?” her stepmother asked, pulling out her wallet and replacing it seconds later. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled you’re finally taking advantage of the estate. I’ve been begging you to accompany me for a visit for years. But, Abigail—”
“The situation here is minute to minute,” Mitchell interjected. “We appreciate the time and effort you’re putting in, as does your father.”
Abby didn’t look up from her keyboard. “How would I know that when he won’t see me?”
“Sweetheart, he doesn’t want you to see him this way. You know what a proud man your father is. Soon, I promise. Everything will be back to normal.”
Abby inhaled deeply, reminding herself to stay calm. They weren’t in Southampton just yet, but she’d resolved to breathe this weekend. Over the last week, the pressure had mounted to the point where, not only was this trip meant for fun, it might even be necessary for her health. A thought that terrified her, knowing what her father had gone through at the helm of the company. “Yes, I know. And I have everything under control. If it makes you feel better, I’ll have my phone and laptop with me while I’m there.” Her fingers flew over the keyboard, entering reminders into next week’s calendar before switching screens to respond to a client email. “It’s not unusual for father to be unreachable by phone over the weekend. Our clients know they can communicate with him via email, and I’ll be there to handle any concerns.”
“There is a conference call with Venezuela on Monday morning,” Mitchell said, consulting the datebook in his hand. “You’ll be back by then, won’t you? It’s your father’s account, and no one else is familiar with it.”
“Yes. I’ll be back Sunday night.” She spun in her chair and opened a file-cabinet drawer, slipping out the client’s information. “I’ll take the file with me, so I’m up to speed. Is there anything else?”
Her stepmother started to speak, but a familiar voice shouting in the hallway interrupted her. “Mayday, Mayday. We’re down one party girl. I repeat, party girl has gone rogue. Must recover.”
Roxy.
“Roger,