“You okay?” he finally asked after long silent minutes of driving. “You’re very quiet over there. ” For once. I knew he was thinking that last bit though he hadn’t actually said it. But yeah… he’d finally found a way to shut me up.
I’d practically bitten a hole through my lip and, with my arms folded across my chest, my fingers were now squeezing bruises into the flesh on my upper arms.
When I figured there was hardly any hill left to climb, Lucas pulled down a private road. It led to what could only be described as an estate, not a mere mansion.
Fuuuck. What the ever-living hell?
I’d think this was some kind of joke if he hadn’t been waving cards in front of machines. To say nothing of calling out his last name like he was a goddamn Rockefeller or a Carnegie.
The driveway was long, lined with a seemingly endless row of palm trees, culminating in a decorative circular plaza set before the sprawling home. A valet raced up to open my door as Lucas parked at the curb. I looked toward the driver side where Lucas was letting himself out and, curiously now, avoiding my gaze. He handed his keys to the valet who greeted him by name and pulled the car away to park somewhere else.
Then I turned to gape at the house before us. “You didn’t tell me that your family lives in a hilltop resort. Is—is this a hotel?”
Lucas did not respond, glancing up casually at the massive structure that towered above us, all stone, glass and sleek, modern lines and curves. The home itself was a work of art.
My head tilted as I continued looking up and up and up. There were at least a dozen slender, circular chimneys scraping the late afternoon sky. Uh. Gulp.
I wiped sweaty hands across the material covering my thighs. Lucas’s great-grandmother’s diamond ring winked, catching in the sunlight. When I stopped to study it, I fixated on the horrid state of my cuticles and chipped nails. My breath seized. I’d never been more self-conscious in my life. Most likely the family would be asking to see the ring on my finger tonight. I hadn’t thought about how crappy this lovely piece of jewelry would look on my unadorned hand.
“I shoulda got a manicure. Or at least painted my nails.”
Lucas seemed unconcerned about the state of my hands as he held out his to me. Slowly I took it and his fingers engulfed mine, holding firm as if reassuring me. “There’s no time to be nervous. Just take a deep breath and go with the flow.”
Go with the flow. Riiiiight. I sent him major side-eye for that. He caught the expression, eyebrow raising. Oh, I promised him payback for this bullshit. It would be swift and painful, too. I hoped he read that in my eyes. We’d just see how easily he got through the flow when recovering from a non-metaphorical swift kick in the nuts.
We climbed the shallow steps down the walkway of geometrically fitted slabs divided by shallow trenches of trickling water. It was designed to look like we were walking on the stepping stones of a stylized stream, driven by a fountain near the front door. Instead of knocking, Lucas turned the doorknob and entered. I half expected a uniformed doorman.
We stepped inside and I had to remember to breathe because the place was even more exquisite inside than out. My head tilted back to take in the massive chrome-trimmed winding staircase, the huge crystal chandelier that towered over the colored glass-lined reflecting pool in the entry way.
An older couple—probably in their fifties or so—approached the front foyer to greet us. How they knew we were here, I had no idea and figured it must have been that valet dude radioing back to the house. Or maybe even the guards at the gate.
Or maybe the invisible butler did it.
I had no idea if the Van Den Blah Blahs had a butler or not. At this point, it would be the least shocking revelation of the evening if they did.
It was quite involuntary, of course, and purely due to the overwhelm that I let slip a “Holy fuck.” Some moments just required that universal—if profane—exclamation. And this was definitely one of them. I’d muttered it under my breath but apparently the woman heard, her perfectly penciled brows climbing in her botoxed forehead.
Her dress was a glittery non-color, likely by some famous designer.