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Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(62)

Author:Melanie Harlow

“The car should be here any minute. While we were inside, my assistant texted that we have a dinner reservation at 5:30, and our tickets will be waiting for us at the Met box office for a 7:30 ballet.”

“Ooooh! What are we seeing?”

“Romeo and Juliet performed by the American Ballet Theater.”

“Really? That’s perfect!” I checked my phone. “But that doesn’t leave much time for us to get ready.”

“We’re having dinner downstairs at The Pierre, so we’ll be fine. And if you need more time, I’ll have dinner sent up.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Here’s the car.”

The sleek black SUV pulled up to the curb, and Hutton opened the door for me. I slid across the back seat and he joined me, instructing the driver to take us back to the hotel. “Of course, Mr. French,” replied the driver.

“Is that the same guy?” I whispered as we pulled into traffic.

“Yes. I hired him for three days.”

“So he just waits around for us?”

Hutton shrugged. “That’s his job. I pay for his time.”

“Sheesh.” I laughed a little, rubbing my hand along the leather seat. “How do you get used to this? To being able to afford luxuries like not ever having to hail a cab, and fireplaces in your hotel rooms, and—oh yeah—chartering private jets to take you where you want to go?”

“At first, it was really strange,” he admitted. “For a long time, I was still riding my bike everywhere, staying at inexpensive places, flying coach. Wade always thought I was crazy. But he’d grown up with a ton of money, so he was used to luxury. My mother doesn’t even throw away those plastic containers cream cheese comes in.”

I laughed. “How’d you finally get more comfortable with being rich?”

“Little by little, I guess. I’m still not completely used to it, and I do feel guilty about it sometimes.”

“But you give a lot of money to charity, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Yes, and that helps. I also paid off all my sister’s college loans and her grad school tuition. I offered to buy both her and Neil and my parents new houses, but they all told me to fuck off—not in those words, of course.” He cocked his head. “Actually, I think my sister did use those words.”

“I believe it,” I said. “She seems very independent and proud.”

“She is all that and more.”

Laughing, I rubbed his leg. “I have an older sister too. I know how they can be. It’s funny, I haven’t been to a ballet in forever, but Millie used to perform in them—not professionally, but she was a pretty serious dance student back in the day.”

“Oh yeah?”

I nodded. “She danced until she was maybe fifteen or so and then quit. She even went to a performing arts school for a year.”

“Why did she quit?”

“She said she just outgrew her passion for it, but I think a lot of it was related to pressure to look a certain way. Ballet dancers are traditionally very thin and small-boned, and Millie is built differently—it was a constant struggle for her to maintain a certain size and she was just tired of fighting it.”

“Was it hard for her to quit?”

“Oh yeah. There were a lot of tears and serious talks behind closed doors. But I think my dad and Frannie were really glad she decided to quit because she was so unhappy. I was only like eleven or twelve, but I remember the tension in the house.” I thought back to that time, how Millie had struggled—I’d hear her crying in her room and felt helpless to cheer her up. “But she seemed relieved once the decision was made. Plus, the twins had just been born, so there was a lot of chaos in the house. Frannie was glad to have Millie around more often to help. She was so good with them.”

“You weren’t?”

I laughed. “Not like Millie was. I thought they were noisy and boring. I liked them better when they got bigger and I could read stories to them—they liked the silly voices I’d do. But anyway, I’m really excited about tonight.” Tipping my head onto his shoulder, I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his as New York sped by outside the window. “Thanks again for everything. Sorry I got a little weird back there. I do trust you.”

“Good. And you’re welcome.”

We pulled up at The Pierre, and Hutton told the driver when to come back for us and where we’d be going. Then he got out, offered his hand, and helped me down. I held onto it as we entered the hotel, took the elevator up to our floor, and walked down the hall toward our suite.

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