“In three days I’ll be Mrs. Victoria Harrington,” I corrected.
“In this town, darling, you’ll be Mrs. Stewart Harrington. Get used to it.”
I inhaled, feeling the muscles in my neck strain as I peered at the traffic outside the tinted windows and tried to change the subject. “Has Travis delivered the money?”
“Not yet. He’s taking me to my office and you back to the penthouse. After that, he will.”
“I want to take my advanced biology final tomorrow. I know it sounds juvenile with all that’s happening, but I’ve worked hard for it. If I score the top in my class, I have an automatic scholarship to the University of Miami.”
Stewart had pulled out his phone and was reading. Without turning he murmured, “Mrs. Stewart Harrington needs neither an advanced biology grade to graduate nor a scholarship to attend college. Your next two days are fully booked. Currently, there are tailors and seamstresses waiting at the apartment to take your measurements.” He briefly turned my direction. “In three days, you’ll not be seen wearing these kinds of clothes, and the work on your wedding dress will commence immediately. There’s also a personal shopper coming later this afternoon to determine your preferences. She’ll get your closet fully stocked. Besides the wedding gown, you’ll need a nicer version of off-the-rack until the custom-made items can be produced.”
My preferences? “What if my preference is what I’m wearing?”
Stewart didn’t respond; instead, still looking at his phone he continued, “You also have various appointments scheduled on Tuesday and Wednesday with hair stylists, manicurists, and cosmetologists. With facials, highlights, waxing, et cetera, your schedule is full. On Thursday we leave for Belize.”
“Belize? I don’t have a passport.”
He looked at me and shook his head. “You will. I’ll call Parker and have one expedited. You may need to squeeze in a visit to the Department of State Passport Agency into your schedule, but it can be done.”
I wanted to say that I thought it took more than three days to get a passport; however, I knew if I did, I’d hear what I’d been hearing all day. It will happen. Before I could reply, my phone rang. Looking at the screen, I saw MARILYN. “My mother,” I whispered.
“I’d give you privacy, but there isn’t anywhere for me to go,” Stewart offered, trying to lighten my mood.
It rang again.
“Are you going to answer it?” he asked.
Was I? Was I ready to have this conversation?
“Hello, Mother,” I said as I hit the speaker button. I didn’t want to repeat the conversation, and besides, I wanted Stewart to hear what I dealt with, firsthand.
“Victoria,” her voice was uncharacteristically relieved. “Why wouldn’t you return my message? What’s wrong with you? You had to have known that we’ve been worried sick.”
My eyes met Stewart’s. I was beginning to read his agitation by his clenched jaw and narrowed gaze. “It’s so nice to hear from you too.”
“Don’t be cute, young lady.”
The absurdity of her tone made me laugh. I had to cover my mouth to keep my amusement silent. “I don’t think you’ve ever accused me of being cute. What exactly have you been so worried about, Mother? My life? My future? Truly anything about me?”
“Victoria, don’t be selfish. Randall is right here. We want to know that you didn’t disappoint our family.”
“Seeing as how I’ve been a disappointment all of my life, I don’t know how you’d think this would be any different.”
The voice changed; it was now Randall. “Victoria, I’ve tried several times to reach Mr. Harrington. I can’t seem to get past his secretary.”
I smiled at Stewart, who nodded.
Thank you, I mouthed. “Why, Randall, why are you telling me this?”
My mother gasped in the background. Her shrill voice cut through the speaker of my phone. “Don’t tell us that you didn’t go to the meeting we arranged for you yesterday.” Was it really only yesterday? “Don’t tell us that you didn’t discuss an arrangement with Mr. Harrington.”
“Oh, I went.”
“Vikki, I know this seems like a big favor we’re asking of you—”
I cut off Randall’s unfelt words. “A big favor? No, sorry. Please pick something up at the store is a favor. Sell yourself to save my ass is not a favor.”
“Don’t speak to your father—”
This time it was Stewart who spoke, interrupting my mother. “Mrs. Sound, from now on, you will not ever speak to your daughter with that tone. Is that understood?”
In our brief time together, I had never heard such command and authority in Stewart’s voice.
It was Randall who next spoke. “Er, Mr. Harrington, can we assume that this means our arrangement is complete?”
“Dr. Sound, I’m waiting to hear your wife’s answer to my question.”
Oh my God. Listening as Randall’s voice wavered and my mother was being called out for the bitch she truly was made my body tense with excitement.
“Mr. Harrington,” my mother began, “I understand. Thank you.”
An apology to me. How hard would that be?
Stewart watched my expression as I listened. As if he read my mind, he said, “Mrs. Sound, Victoria is waiting to hear an apology, not only for your outburst, but for the situation in which you and Dr. Sound have placed her.”