Maid of Dishonor Read Online Free PDF Page A

little
preoccupied—rushed off to get to her office in Brooklyn.
    Gina watched her leave, and realised that there was only one
way to win Marnie’s trust—and prove to herself that she deserved it. And that
was to finally make amends for everything that had happened ten years ago, on
the night she’d thrown herself at a virtually married man.
    She gulped down her lukewarm coffee as goosebumps prickled up
her spine. Unfortunately that meant apologising to more than just Marnie.

TWO
    Gina
climbed out of the cab under the High Line in New York’s Meatpacking
District and mounted the metal steps to the linear park constructed along an old
L-train track. The concrete pathway, edged with planters of wild ferns and
flowers, bustled with joggers, canoodling couples and families enjoying the
pleasantly warm but not overly muggy New York evening.
    Sweat trickled down her back as she stepped out of the heat
into the cool lobby area of The Standard Hotel. The retro chic decor—all white
plastic sculptures, distressed stone walls and dark leather scooped seats—made
her feel as if she’d stepped onto the set of a sixties sci-fi movie.
    She lifted her arms, to deter the sweat from dampening the
armpits of the vintage Dior mini-dress she’d spent half an hour selecting from
her extensive wardrobe of couture originals and thrift-store finds. The plan was
to look cool and sophisticated and in control while finally confronting the
ghosts of her past, not like a bedraggled rag doll.
    She lingered for a moment—feeling a bit like an alien from the
planet Zod—before taking a deep, calming breath, and stepping up to the
reception desk.
    The expertly coiffured receptionist took down the message she’d
spent most of the afternoon composing. The perfect combination of polite,
impersonal and not too pushy—the single sentence gave Carter the option of
contacting her, so she could give him her apology in person.
    Whether he would or not was entirely up to him. The sense of
relief as she left the desk was immense. She’d done what she had to do. It
really didn’t matter now if Carter called her or not. But somehow she doubted he
would.
    Because as well as spending far too much time that afternoon
composing the perfect message—she’d also spent rather a lot of it Googling
information about the CEO of the Price Paper Consortium of Savannah, Georgia.
After wasting a good twenty minutes poring over the numerous pictures, gossip
items and local news reports featuring Carter Price and the ever-changing
kaleidoscope of model-perfect ‘possible future brides’ who’d accompanied him to
an array of high-society functions and charity events in the last few years,
she’d had to concede that Marnie hadn’t lied.
    The sensitive, conflicted Southern gentleman who had once been
so susceptible to her charms wasn’t just a major player now, he appeared to be
attempting a world record for dating and dumping the entire debutante population
south of the Mason-Dixon Line.
    This Carter was not the man who had rushed back to his
childhood sweetheart crippled by guilt and self-loathing at what they had done.
So she very much doubted he’d want to revisit that time in his life. But exactly
how much of the change in him was her fault?
    The thought struck and stopped her in her tracks—right beside
the entrance to the hotel’s lobby bar.
    Damn, her throat felt as if she’d been swallowing sand. She
glanced at her watch. Ten to six. Still an hour before Carter was due to check
in. She had time for a soft drink without risking bumping into him.
    She shrugged off the thought of how much Carter appeared to
have changed in the last ten years as she entered the brightly lit bar.
Apportioning blame for that now was a little late.
    Crowded with New York’s young and lively in-crowd celebrating
the start of the weekend and a few tired-looking tourists ready to call it a
day,