SCARLETT: Soul Sisters - Book Two (The Soul Sisters 2) Page 2

  His eyes narrow at me, and I get the feeling my sister never speaks to him this way. “He’s an employee of the record label, Ms. Justice. Don’t forget that.”

  I flick my eyes to the numbers and watch us rise almost all the way to the top. In fact, we stop one floor below the P which I’m sure indicates penthouse.

  The doors slide open, and we get off on the forty-third floor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Scarlett—

  We step out into a foyer. My bodyguard, Quincy, punches us in with a code, then steps back, waving me in.

  Wow. The suite is stunning with marble floors and exquisite furnishings, all in a beautiful cream color, but my eyes are drawn to the gorgeous view out the floor to ceiling glass. We walk down a short hall, around a wall and half dozen people come into view. I stop short.

  Lou takes control. “Sorry to keep you waiting. She’s here now.”

  “I apologize,” I murmur as those not already standing, come to their feet. A striking woman with a short dark bob comes forward, her hand extended.

  “Ms. Justice. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Priscilla Proctor.”

  “Ms. Proctor is the CEO of Cali Girl,” Lou fills in the blanks for me.

  “Oh, my. The CEO?” I shake her hand.

  “This is an important collaboration for us. We want to make sure our designs are right for what you had in mind for your line. We’ve brought our design team with some lovely designs for you to look over.”

  “Thank you. That’s wonderful. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

  “This is Gino Finelli, our top designer.” The man comes forward.

  “A pleasure, Ms. Justice.”

  “Please, call me S-Charlotte.” I cover my slip up with a smile as I shake his hand.

  “I’ve always admired your casual and easy style, and I think you’re the perfect person to represent our brand. Cali Girl after all is the epitome of casual but still stylish with a very boho feel.”

  He seems like a pleasant man. “Of course.”

  “Perhaps you’d like to spend a few minutes with our hair and makeup people before you try on the sample garments we’ve brought with us?” Priscilla holds out her arm to a pretty young woman and an attractive man.

  “Yes, of course.”

  An hour later, I’ve had my hair styled in long loose curls, and my makeup done in a soft pink pallet that goes beautifully with my skin. The woman also removed my chipped nail polish and replaced it with a pale pink. They brush a dusting of gold over my tanned arms, then help me into the first design—a flowing maxi dress with beautiful golden embroidery.

  The hairstylist adds the finishing touch with a thin leather headband that gives me a flower child look.

  I walk out and see the design team has set up a tri-fold mirror and a box stand. I step up on it and look at the dress.

  “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

  “Lovely,” Priscilla murmurs. “It suits you.”

  I nod. It does.

  “I’ve been in contact with Vibe magazine,” Lou says. “They want to do a cover story on you, and we’d like you to wear this for the shoot. They’ve agreed to let Cali Girl supply all your looks for the layout.”

  I have no idea how long any of this has been planned, so I just nod. “That would be wonderful. I’d like to see the other styles.”

  “Of course. We brought them all for your approval.” The designer stands and gestures to an assistant.

  An hour later, I’ve tried everything on. Most items fit like they are made for my measurements. Some items have last minute changes made with a pin here and there. Every outfit is amazing.

  “We’ve got one last look we brought. It isn’t part of this line, but we hoped perhaps if this endeavor goes well, we’d bring in a bridal line next season.” The designer pulls a dress from a rack they’ve set up and holds it out for me to see.

  It’s long and fairytale lovely, but still with a boho feel. I’ve never worn anything like it.

  “What do you think? Want to give it a go?”

  I smile. “Yes, please.”

  I change and come back out. By now the sun is sinking on the horizon, and a spectacular sunset colors the sky in painted stripes of pink and orange and vibrant purples.

  I step up on the platform and take in my reflection. I’m in awe.

  The hairstylist has pinned little diamonds in a scattering throughout my long curls.

  “Oh my…” I’ve never tried on a wedding dress, and for a moment the future I had planned with Buck flashes before my eyes, and I tear up. The pain of losing it all seers through me, knowing being his wife and the mother of his children is something I’ll never have. I press my hand to my lips, and the designer comes forward with a tissue.

  “That’s the reaction we’re looking for,” he whispers.

  “Do you like it?” Priscilla asks, her brow knitting. “Are you okay, dear?”

  “I’m fine. It’s lovely. I’ve never worn a wedding dress before, that’s all.”

  “I see. What do you think of the idea of a Charlotte Justice bridal line under the Cali Girl label?”

  I nod, overwhelmed. “I’d like that.”

  Lou looks at his watch. “I think that’s a wonderful option for her to consider, depending on her cut. If you draw up some paperwork, we’ll take a look at your offer. Right now, she has an important call with the record label in a half hour. If we’re about through here…”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Lane Grantham—

  I hate winters in New York. I’ve had enough of overcast skies growing up in London. Perhaps that’s what drew me to the sunny southwestern United States to start up the first in a line of boutique hotels here in Las Vegas.

  It’s so opposite of the Grantham Hotel brand that I’m sure my proper father would be rolling over in his grave. Father was a Londoner, born and bred. His father was the Earl of Grantham. Unfortunately, father was born the second son, and therefore didn’t inherit. But he was born with a superb mind for business and started a very renowned and successful line of hotels, the flagship being the Royal London Grantham Hotel in Kensington.

  Quite a mouthful, I know.

  My biggest fear is that I’ll never be able to fill my father’s shoes. He was absolutely driven. I’ve done my best to keep the ship righted, but carrying on as CEO of the Grantham Hotels hasn’t been easy. Thankfully we have a good team to rely on. My sister is very involved, as is her husband, which has taken the weight off my shoulders greatly, and allowed for me to branch out with my passion project—this new line of boutique hotels with a more eclectic feel than the staid traditional British hotels our brand is famous for.

  Hotel Blue is my baby.

  And shocking all my father’s right hand men, I chose the American capital of sin in which to debut it. I’m betting the bank that my instincts are right. I’ve secured all the major financing for this one on my own, and its success here in Las Vegas is paramount to the success of the entire endeavor.

  I stare out over the Strip, bustling with activity as the sun slides behind the mountains in the distance. The view from my corner office on the fortieth floor is magnificent.

  Behind me, my sister clears her throat, and I turn.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” I reply.

  “Have you met her yet?”

  “Who?”

  “Charlotte Justice of course. Don’t be obtuse, Lane.”

  “I’m not being obtuse, Miranda. And no, I’ve not had the pleasure.”

  “You haven’t introduced yourself yet? Seriously? Time is wasting. She’ll only be in town for a few weeks, and then you’ll have missed your chance.”

  There’s a giant photo of our special act down in the lobby. I pass it every time I enter the building. Her run starts at the end of the month. The first two shows are sold out and the final one is almost as well.

  It was Miranda’s idea to book Charlotte Justice and give her free use of one of our pr
ime suites, as well as space for rehearsing for her upcoming US tour. Publicity she claims will pay off. I trust Miranda’s judgment, but I’ve never heard of Charlotte Justice or her band. Not that I’m up on the latest music scene; I’m not. I stand behind my desk and stare down at the picture, shoving my hands in the pockets of my Savile Row suit.

  The woman in the photo is drop dead gorgeous, though not my usual type. The kind of women I’ve been dating of late, usually in Manhattan, are sophisticated working women or more usually social climbing society bitches looking to land a man with a home in the Hamptons, preferably with two-hundred feet of ocean frontage. Or a man with a royal lineage and a dukedom to go with it.

  My family has the blue-blood pedigree… and billions. When our parents passed away in a very tragic private plane crash, my sister and I inherited everything, fifty-fifty. Though even splitting the bulk of it all, we’re still each worth billions. It’s insane how money can make people react to a person. They become completely different people when they find out my net worth.

  I long for those I’ve known since childhood. Though they can be stuffy snobs, at least I understand them. American women on the other hand, are a whole different animal.

  “Well?” Miranda draws me from my thoughts.

  “I don’t need this now, sister. I’ve a great deal on my plate already.”

  “Yes, you do. Especially now. You’ve been working ridiculous hours. The hotel is open, and everything is going smashing. And with the added bonus of the publicity we bring in with having Charlotte Justice perform for our debut concert series, things can only get better. Soon you’ll be competing with all the big guns on the Strip.”

  I shuffle through some papers, grunting a reply.

  “Lane Grantham, are you ignoring me?”

  “Trying my best.”

  She folds her arms and huffs.

  I glance up. “Why are you so set on playing matchmaker? And this woman of all people?” I lift my chin to the media photo on my desk.

  “Because she’s different from those insipid women you’ve been dating. I saw several interviews of her when she was in London on her European tour. She’s a breath of fresh air. I think she’s perfect for you.”

  “Really? And why’s that?”

  “Just give it a try. For me?”

  “And what’s in it for me?”

  “A lifetime of happiness?”

  “Or should I ask, what’s in it for you?”

  “Perhaps some nieces and nephews and a sister-in-law I won’t actually hate.”

  “You hated Camilla? That’s a strong word.”

  “She was a bitch, and if you had married that woman, I would never have forgiven you.”

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “Okay, here’s a deal even you can’t refuse. Go on three dates with this woman and give it a chance—an honest real chance—and I’ll sell you something you’ve been pestering me for all year.”

  That has my attention, and my hands still because I immediately know what she’s offering. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Three dates of my choosing. I’ll arrange them; you just get her to show up.”

  “And?” I want her to say the words.

  “And I’ll sell you Royal Faction.”

  Even after the words leave her mouth, I’m not sure I believe her. “I thought you were training him for the Triple Crown.”

  “I am.”

  “And yet you’d sell him to me?”

  “I want your happiness, brother. Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Something’s happened. Does he have a ligament injury? A fracture? You’re just trying to foist him off on me. Be honest.”

  “I’m being honest. Your dream horse is perfectly healthy.”

  I stare at the woman in the photo. “Three dates with this woman, that’s all it takes?”

  “Yes. And you have to be nice.”

  “I’m always nice.”

  She actually huffs at my answer. “You can be quite miserable, Lane. Half your staff is afraid of you.”

  “They are not.”

  She quirks a brow. “No? Ask Patsy.”

  Patsy is a close family friend who has know the two of us since our school days. She’s the best personal assistant I’ve ever had. She actually worked for my father before he died. She’s the one person, other than Miranda, that I trust implicitly. She also doesn’t take any shit from me.

  I press a button on my phone console. “Patsy, come in here please.”

  A moment later the woman walks through the door.

  Miranda doesn’t even wait for me to speak. “Patsy, tell my brother how the staff is afraid of him.”

  She smiles. “It’s true, I’m afraid. Absolutely terrified.”

  “This is a joke, right? I mean, I know I can be demanding, and all right, gruff at times, but terrifying?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s quite true, I’m sorry to say.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “No, I didn’t bloody know. Thank you, that’s all.”

  Patsy winks at Miranda and exits.

  “What was that about?” I demand.

  “What?”

  “That wink? She winked at you.”

  “Oh, Lane, don’t be paranoid. We’re not plotting against you.”

  I drag in a long breath and slump back in my chair, running my hand over my chin. My staff is terrified of me, and my sister is playing matchmaker. Any other bombshells about to be dropped on me today?

  “So, is it a deal?”

  I meet her eyes. I’ve wanted Royal Faction since he was a foal. My sister stole him right out from under me at Keeneland's September yearling sale.

  Royal Faction was one of the most coveted yearlings as an offspring with the lineage of several former derby and triple crown winners in his blood. Perhaps I’d have a real shot at the Derby with him.

  “Deal.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Scarlett—

  The team from Cali Girl has left, and it’s just Lou, Quincy, and I.

  I’ve changed back into the outfit I wore when I stepped out of the limo, right down to the Jimmy Choo shoes. I sit on the couch and cross my legs, admiring them. Inside I’m squealing with excitement. I’ve never owned anything so pretty.

  I took a few minutes earlier to dash in the bathroom and read the note Charlotte scribbled down for me. There wasn’t too much on it except for the names of her band mates and a brief comment about each, her suite number, the password to her phone, and advice to call Daryl for anything I need help with.

  Quincy cracks open a bottle of water and carries it to me. “Drink. You look dehydrated.”

  I smile at him, taking it. “Always looking out for me, hmm? Thank you.”

  “Someone needs to.” He gives Lou a glance of reproach.

  “Why do you keep putting this off?” Lou asks. He’s miffed I put off giving the record label executive a firm answer on the phone call just now. “It’s a good deal, Charlotte.”

  My sister’s words have hung in my brain since Lou mentioned the call.

  Don’t sign any record deals. Put them off until I get back.

  So that’s what I did.

  “We’ve got time to work the deal out, Lou. I don’t want to be rushed.”

  “This is a fast-paced business, doll. You of all people should know that. Look at how fast your friend Rory shot to fame.” He snaps his fingers. “That’s how quick Reece Jones can find another act. Don’t think you’re not replaceable, kid.”

  I’ve followed my sister’s career enough to know she just finished a sell-out tour across Europe. So I’m not falling for Lou’s bullshit.

  I give him a don’t make me laugh smile, which only pisses him off more. I almost laugh. It’s fun to watch him think he can throw his bluster around, but it doesn’t faze me. I can’t stand a man who tries to control me.

  He shoves to his feet and paces a few steps, then grabs the unlit
cigar from his mouth and jabs it at me. “Don’t blow this deal, Charlotte. I worked hard to get it for you.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’m the one working hard, Lou.”

  His eyes blaze. The chime of the hotel suite’s doorbell interrupts us. Yes, it has a doorbell. How freaking cool is that?

  Quincy moves to answer it as Lou and I swivel our heads to see who it is.

  My bodyguard peers through the peephole, then turns back and murmurs, “It’s the CEO of the hotel.”

  My brows slash down as my eyes flick to Lou.

  “Lane Grantham. He’s worth billions, so fucking be nice.”

  I take offense to his comment. “I’m always nice.”

  Quincy opens the door. “Mr. Grantham.”

  “Good evening. Is Miss Justice available?”

  “Yes, sir. Come in.” Quincy steps back and in strolls the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  He’s tall and blond, with a distinct Nordic look about him. If the role wasn’t already taken, he’d make a great Thor, except his hair is shorter in a cut that probably cost more than my bar made last week. My eyes slide down over his body in the magnificent suit that fits him exquisitely.

  I stand, and our eyes connect. Good God, this man is beautiful.

  He extends his hand, and I notice the Tag Heuer watch on his right wrist. So he’s a leftie. Interesting. I extend mine, and the moment we touch, something zings through my body, and I don’t want him to let go.

  “Miss Justice, a pleasure to finally meet you. Lane Grantham of Grantham Hotels. I hope you’re enjoying your stay with us.”

  He’s got a British accent! Could he get any better? I smile. “Yes, very much so. The hotel is lovely.”

  “The staff has been taking care of you?” He still has a hold of my hand as I stare dreamily into his crystal blue eyes.

  “Yes, they’ve been wonderful.”

  “Excellent.” He finally lets go, and Lou extends his hand.

  “Lou Crawford, Miss Justice’s manager.”

  “How do you do.” They shake.

  Lane Grantham shoves his hands in his pockets, and the gesture pulls the fabric of the expensive suit, showing off his muscled physique even more.