Page 35 of Escorting the CEO
“Pity,” Miranda said blithely.
Luke popped up between us. “Rory, Maria says to say goodnight.”
I beamed at him. “Good night, buddy.”
“Pool tomorrow?” he asked.
“Absolutely.”
He started to run away, but Miranda snatched his wrist. “Ow!”
“Did you forget to say goodnight to your grandmother?” she asked, in a fake-nice voice.
“G’night!”
She released him and he ran for it.
She looked at me coolly. “They boy’s been through a lot. You shouldn’t pretend to be kind to him—it’ll just end up hurting him in the end.”
“I’m not pretending.”
Miranda arched a well-groomed eyebrow. “You’re not fooling anyone, young lady. Take a look around.” She motioned to the other guests. They were confident, using big words about important things, and they were comfortable at Barrington Manor, surrounded by crystal, staff, and antiques.
“You don’t belong here. You never will. Rhodes might think that checking a few boxes will secure his future, but I know the truth: he’ll never be the man his father was, or William.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say,” I said, surprised at her blunt cruelty.
“The truth hurts, as they say.” She shrugged. “But you’ll see for yourself soon enough. There’s a reason he was alone for solong. There’s a reason both his father and brother insisted he marry in order to take on more responsibilities.
“Rhodes Barrington is achild. You can put a child in a suit and call him a man, just like you can put a ring on a finger and call someone a bride. But the truth always comes out in the end.”
“Miranda, are you bullying my fiancé?” Rhodes interrupted, suddenly looming over us.
I breathed out a huge sigh of relief: I’d never been so happy to see my fake fiancé in my life.
PRIVATE
RORY
“It’s notnecessary to bully her,” Miranda said. “She looks silly enough without any help from me.”
Rhodes’s eyes flashed. “I beg your pardon?—”
“Mrs. Barrington?” Philips called from the patio. “Can you come and inspect the ribs, please? Chef is requesting you.”
“Chef won’t save you next time,” Rhodes said icily, as Miranda slid out from under him and strode to the patio.
He turned to me. “What the hell was that all about?”
“I’m not sure. I think she doesn’t like me very much?”
“Is that a question?” Rhodes dropped down into her seat.
“No, it’s not. I’m not sure why I said it like that. Shedefinitelydoesn’t like me. She doesn’t like you much, either.”
He laughed. “No, she doesn’t.”
We watched through the doorway as Miranda barked orders at Chef and Philips. She didn’t appear satisfied with the barbecue.
