Beautifully Awake(52)

“Hey, at least you know Guy’s there. He’ll be on top of it. You couldn’t ask for a better resident,” I said reassuringly as our town car came to a stop.

“Hmm. That remains to be seen. I’m far from convinced.” His voice was harsh, his eyes cold. Okay?

Our car door opened to yet another white-gloved gentleman. “Dr. Colton, Sir, nice to see you again. I assume you’re in town for your mother’s birthday.”

His body tensed and he tightened the death grip on my hand at the mention of his mother.

“Not exactly, but yes, we will be attending brunch this morning.” Chase glanced my direction, motioning with his eyes for me to exit the car. I slid toward the exit, grasping the extended white glove. I was thankful for the support since I was still a bit wobbly on my new shoes. Chase smoothly exited right behind me.

“Your package, Sir.” Our driver approached Chase and handed him a small gift bag.

“I appreciate you taking care of this for me, although not necessary.” Chase turned toward me and grabbed my hand. “Let’s get this over with,” he hissed in my ear. “I can think of far better ways to spend our time.”

I had absolutely no idea what I was about to encounter, but for some reason I didn’t think it was going to be pleasant.

Just steps from the other side of Central Park, on the corner of Park Avenue, was a prominent nineteen-story building. Bright green trees, creating a stark contrast to the art deco limestone exterior, lined it. The conservative edifice almost hid its luxury. Columns and a gated doorway that not so subtly hinted at the promise of silk sheets, and Picassos flanked the polished marble entry. Of course, his parents lived here.



The penthouse apartment door swung open as we made our approach. I had the feeling someone was looking through the peephole. The woman at the door held a startled expression. I assumed it was his mother. I definitely caught her off guard. It was obvious Chase had failed to mention he was bringing a guest. Her initial reaction of annoyance mirrored mine. I wished he had told them I was attending the party. But seconds later, her face softened as she joined her husband, who stood only inches behind her with a welcoming smile.

“Chase darling, you came.” She embraced him in a tight squeeze, kissing his cheek. Her soft blonde hair cut to a perfect bob encased perfectly shaped caramel-colored eyes. Her complexion sparkled and her skin was pulled tight. I’m sure living on Park Avenue definitely had its perks. Her team of plastic surgeons and dermatologists were conveniently situated just outside her door.

“Mother,” was all he said while handing her the small gift bag. “Dad.” Chase gripped the distinguished white haired man’s hand. Chase was the spitting image of his father. His stormy grey gaze was uncanny.

“Oh, darling, you shouldn’t have, you know I don’t need a thing.” She smiled wide, glancing in my direction.

Chase placed a reassuring hand on my lower back, coaxing me forward.

“Mom, Dad. This is Lili Porter. Lili, these are my parents, Constance and Gregory Colton.”

I smiled timidly, waiting for one of them to extend a hand in my direction.

“Oh, Chase. I didn’t know you had ... I mean you never mentioned anyone in your life.”

“What, Mother? You mean a girlfriend? Well, I do. And let’s not pretend that when we talk you ever ask me anything about my life.”

The encounter was definitely becoming awkward.

“Lili, please call me Greg.” Chase’s father pushed around his mother, extending a hand in my direction. Our clasp lingered a beat too long, giving me the creeps.



“Very nice to meet you, you have a very lovely home.”

Constance’s eyes penetrated me while bouncing from my shoes, to my dress, to my hair. Was I good enough for her son?

“Lili, dear. The pleasure is mine, any friend of my son’s is welcome in our home.” She hooked her arm through my elbow and directed me into the gallery. “Now Lili, what do you do for a living? I presume a single woman your age works and has not made a career out of seeking out rich, eligible bachelors.”

My eyes widened and I tasted the bitter bile at the back of my throat. The reason for Chase’s dislike was becoming evident.

“I am a case manager at the hospital Chase works at, actually.” I stressed the actually part. Was she for real?

She placed her index finger under her chin as if she was pondering what I said. “A case manager?” Her condescending tone was beyond irritating.

“Yes, Mother. A case manager, also known as a social worker. I’m sure that profession rings a bell, or do you need a reminder?” Chase sounded pissed, but Constance dismissively rolled her eyes, ignoring her son’s obvious warning.