Chapter 16
Chapter 16:
Jocelyn sat at the far end of the table in a simple black dress. It was armor.
Elouise sat opposite her, eyes swollen and red, stabbing her salad with unnecessary violence. Robert sat between them, drinking wine as though it were water.
Aspen was absent. Robert had kept his word on that, at least.
“So,” Robert said, clearing his throat. The sound echoed in the vaulted room. “I hear you married p>
“I did,” Jocelyn said, not looking up from her plate. She pushed a cherry tomato around with her fork.
“To whom?” Elouise snapped. “Some bartender? A personal trainer p>
“His name is Gaston,” Jocelyn said.
Robert frowned, pausing with his glass halfway to his mouth. “Gaston? Last name p>
𝘙е𝗮𝗱 f𝘳e𝖾 n𝗼𝘃е𝗅s 𝗈𝘯
“I don’t think that’s your business,” Jocelyn said. She watched their reactions closely.
Robert snorted. “Nameless, then. Please. You probably found some nobody to spite us p>
“He’s in finance,” Jocelyn said vaguely. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want to reveal anything about the man she believed to be the notorious playboy Babe Vincent.
“Well, whoever he is, he’s inconvenient,” Robert said, setting his glass down. “We have a dinner on Friday. At Le Coucou p>
“We?” Jocelyn asked.
“The family,” Robert said. “And the Vincents p>
Jocelyn’s knife screeched against the porcelain. She froze.
“The Vincents?” she repeated, her voice tight.
“The shipping magnates,” Robert said, oblivious to her panic. “They have a son. A bit of a wild card, but the families want to merge our logistics division with theirs. We were hoping to introduce him to Aspen p>
“Since Kieran is legally entangled,” Elouise muttered.
Jocelyn’s heart hammered against her ribs. They were setting Aspen up with Babe Vincent.
If she went to that dinner and “Babe” showed up, the charade would be over. They would see she was married to a fiction.
“I can’t make it,” Jocelyn said quickly.
“You have to,” Robert said, his voice hardening. “It’s a show of family unity. The Vincents are old-fashioned — they want to see the whole clan. If you don’t come, I might reconsider that audit block p>
It was a threat. A direct one.
“Fine,” Jocelyn said. She needed time to think. She couldn’t warn Gaston; he was just a paid actor in this drama. She was on her own.
“Excuse me,” she said, standing. “I need the restroom p>
She didn’t go to the restroom. She slipped down the service corridor toward the West Wing.
The air here was stale, smelling of medicine and lavender. This was where they kept Grandma Wolfe.
The nurse was dozing in a chair by the door, an iPad glowing in her lap. Jocelyn tiptoed past her.
The room was dark, lit only by moonlight filtering through the heavy drapes.
Grandma Wolfe sat in her wheelchair by the window — a small, shrunken figure wrapped in a wool shawl, staring at the moon.
“Grandma?” Jocelyn whispered, kneeling beside the chair.
The old woman turned slowly. Her eyes were milky with cataracts, her expression vacant.
“Who’s there?” she rasped.
“It’s me. Jocelyn. Little Wolf p>