It was easy enough to switch bulbs in the spherical light fixture. He set the old light bulb on the dresser, reminding himself to take it with him, then headed to the master bath. There, he found two wet towels on the floor, makeup and perfume scattered on the vanity. The door leading to the closet stretched wide open, inviting Knox to take a peek.
Her clothes were neatly arranged by dresses, skirts, pants, and tops, further separated by color. A wall of shoes faced him, while belts and purses took up a small section.
Would Outlaw want a camera in here…No. Kendall might walk in undressed. Her bedroom was bad enough. No camera in the bathroom or closet.
Since he needed to get started downstairs, Knox grabbed the old light bulb and returned to the first floor, heading for the kitchen.
He needed a visual of faces. With a panoramic lightbulb recording from above, he’d only see the top of heads, so Knox decided the microwave was the best place for the kitchen camera.
Though Stretch was recovering from his final surgery, he’d still coached Knox on quick and efficient installation. Stretch hadn’t asked why he needed the knowledge, and Knox hadn’t volunteered. If he didn’t know, it was up to Outlaw to tell him. Besides, Stretch had already hacked into her alarm system and created a master passcode for Outlaw’s benefit.
Once Knox installed the microwave’s new start button, the rest of the job should go smoothly.
Chapter Eighteen
“Which hor d’oeuvres did you enjoy?” Joan Harrington asked Roxy with expectation.
She’d had poppy seed and Parmesan cheese straws, tomato tartare stuffed in mushrooms, steak tartare in cherry tomatoes, smoked trout chevrons with dilled crème fraiche, pecan stuffed dates wrapped in prosciutto, grape leaves stuffed with shrimp cannel, goose rillettes with French baguettes, pink meringue kisses, white chocolate lavender hearts, and mini kiwi tartlets with whipped cream and candied lilacs.
The entire time they’d eaten, no one said much. Every now and then, Joan would break in with the name of the next food they were tasting—as if the fucking place cards weren’t enough.
“My favorite was actually the steak tartare in the cherry tomatoes,” Roxy answered, undecided as to whether Joan Harrington was happy about Knox’s proposal or not.
If Roxy had to guess, she’d say not. After the first disastrous meeting with Knox’s parents, they’d made her feel welcome whenever she saw them. Roxy understood that a marriage was permanent, something Knox couldn’t easily walk away from and she believed that made all the difference in the world to his parents.
“I will put them on the menu,” Roxy went on. She looked at the girls. “What do you think?”
“I liked the rillettes,” Bailey said. “I’m going to add that to the menu as well.”
“Darlings,” Joan began, “I didn’t have these dishes made to add to your menu. We are taste-testing so we can come up with the menu.”
“And the menu is what we decide,” Roxy stated.
Joan tittered. “You’re precious. We want to keep the food elegant and simple. You’re not only dating Knox. You are about to marry into the Harrington family. A very philanthropic family with excellent social standing.”
“Roxy is a very good cook, Joan,” Kendall offered. “She probably has the menu all figured out in her head.”
“We don’t want an oyster boat, red beans and rice, gumbo, and fried alligator,” Joan said with a saccharin smile. “That’s fine for New Orleans, but not for Portland.”
“Don’t waste your breath, Joan,” Charlotte had the nerve to chortle. “She’s one of them. A biker woman.”
“That’s uncalled for,” Kendall said quickly.
Roxy threw Kendall another glare. What made her think bringing Charlotte’s ass to their meeting was a good idea, Roxy didn’t know. She and Charlotte had never gotten along. The few hours of commiseration they’d shared when they’d been taken by Knox’s crazy uncle was long since gone.
However, Roxy felt a little off-balance. All the girls did, she suspected, with the exception of Kendall probably. They were in a high-society mansion of a high-society snob. Even for a goddamn taste-testing, the atmosphere lacked the down-home, easy-going vibe they all liked.
Kendall was the only one who hated those situations.
Kendall…and Knox.
Roxy couldn’t forget some of Knox’s words from the dinner on the night they’d made love. She knew he hadn’t meant to be condescending, yet he had been. No wonder Mortician was so relentless in his quest to have them live separately until after the wedding.
The dick and pussy policing annoyed Roxy. Although it didn’t. Not really.
She frowned. Her thoughts made absolutely no fucking sense. Either she was pissed with Mortician’s interference or she was happy. She couldn’t have it both fucking ways.
Could she?
She hated to fail, and she’d done so three times. Three marriages. Three divorces. Four men. Four baby daddies. The bane of her existence were her relationships. She couldn’t get them right. Even K-P, who’d loved her so much and whom she’d loved just as much had worked better as close friends, rather than lovers.
Besides, Knox’s cockamamie story about why he wouldn’t allow Mr. Whittlestone to fit him for his tux, still rankled. He’d gotten away with it then because she’d been a googly-eyed bitch, thinking with her pussy.
She absolutely loved Knox to eat her out. He’d given her some bullshit excuse about a fucking bridal party—what the fuck that had to do with his ass getting fitted, she didn’t know—then he’d licked his lips, his eyelids heavy. The motherfucker knew he was so fucking sexy, Roxy could barely stand it. Seeing his tongue reminded her of his pussy-eating skills. Which, in turn, made her all plaint and agreeable.
A bitch was dick-whipped…tongue-whipped. But he laid good dick; she enjoyed his company; and she loved him. What the fuck was she supposed to do when he hadn’t wanted to do business with the Whittlestones?
However, suppose she discovered, after the ceremony, that it was the same with her and Knox? Maybe, she went along with Mortician’s ridiculousness so she had a buffer between her and Knox to see things clearer.
Already it was working. Wasn’t it? She and Knox needed to have a heart-to-heart about several issues. He needed to open up and tell her how he really saw her. If he looked down on the bikers, what did he think of her? Was she truly good enough for him? To him. Not to herself.
Right? Riiiggghhhtttt.
She’d never lacked confidence in herself. Until she did.
Logan Donovan’s voice crept into her head. He’d been a singular motherfucker. As a matter-of-fact, deeming him a motherfucker was too good. The word to describe him hadn’t been invented.
How she hated him! If only she could find one of the pieces they’d left of him to flush it down the toilet. That he could still get into her head after all these years galled the fuck out of her.
He was a narrow-minded, pig-brained, miserable racist. Further, the place he told her she’d never have in the club, in K-P’s life, was now hers.
She’d also married into New Orleans Black High Society, as cutthroat as any fucking place on earth. After a year, she’d been so unhappy with Duke’s father, Creighton.
She glanced around. House managers and butlers and maids and cooks and chauffeurs filled the Harrington mansion. When Roxy had arrived with the girls, one of the staff members had led them to Mrs. Harrington’s personal drawing room.
The handful of times she’d come here, she tried not to roam the halls to gawk. Somewhere, in the huge place, there was a ballroom and a banquet hall, along with a bunch of other rooms that Roxy felt were completely unnecessary.
Knox was heir to this.
When she’d walked into Joan’s drawing room, her almost mother-in-law had stood, wearing an olive-green wrap dress and square-heeled, pointy-toed pumps that reeked of…of… Roxy wasn’t sure.
It had just overwhelmed her. Now, Joan mocked her New Orleans roots. Rox
y didn’t want a war with Knox’s mother, but if she didn’t stop the woman in her tracks, the wedding would turn into Joan’s ceremony, not Roxy or Bailey’s.
“No, Mrs. Harrington, you’re wrong. New Orleans food is delicious,” Bailey was saying, bringing Roxy back to the conversation.
Mrs. Harrington, huh? Try Mrs. Bitch.
They were supposed to have this meeting at Bailey’s place. Then Knox had called last night and begged Roxy to allow his mother to host this first meeting.
Joan wanted to be on her own turf. All the better for fucking condescension.
Grabbing her purse, Roxy got a pen and small notepad, then turned a level gaze to Joan. “If I want a pirogue filled with dirt and live crawfish, that’s my fucking business. I didn’t have to include you at all, Joan.”
“Knox wanted me included,” Joan returned. “He wouldn’t have been happy had you not.”
He probably wouldn’t have, but it went back to him wanting a society wedding, since they were having a big ceremony, with all the bells and whistles that went with it.
Roxy would’ve been happy going to Las Vegas and letting Elvis marry them.
“You’re right,” Roxy conceded. “He wouldn’t have. That doesn’t mean he wants you to plan it. Me and Bailey are in charge, not you.”
“I’m only trying to help,” Joan told her. “Besides, I need to be in on the planning so I can tell you the flowers I’m ordering to decorate the ballroom and banquet hall—”
“I’m not having the ceremony or the reception here,” Roxy interrupted.
“Of course you are,” Joan said, as if that had been a foregone conclusion. “It is a Harrington tradition. Knox had his first wedding here, too.”
Roxy scowled. “Then I know I’m not having anything here.”
“Maybe, you can have the rehearsal dinner here,” Kendall suggested.
“That sounds like a good idea, Mama,” Bailey said. “We would love that, Joan.”
Joan sidled a glance from Roxy to Bailey. “There seems to be some type of miscommunication here.”
“On your part,” Roxy said, not unkindly. She came up with a quick solution. “Could you plan the rehearsal dinner? Food, decorations, everything?” That would also keep Joan away from the wedding committee meetings.
Roxy expected to have a lot of laughs with the girls, instead of all this silence and tension.
She held her left hand out. The diamond on the ring winked at her. Are you to blame for all this bullshit, motherfucker? All the doubts and panic and issues thrown our way?
Joan cleared her throat and glared at the Harrington ring, not hiding her displeasure. “That’s a priceless Harrington heirloom. I trust you know what to do with it.”
“I sure do,” Roxanne retorted. “I know how to shove it up your fucking—”
“Mama!” Bailey yelled as Joan narrowed her eyes. “Mrs. Harrington is just, um, er…”
Go ahead and make an excuse for this sadity bitch, sugar.
Bailey glanced at Meggie.
“Joan is just expressing the importance of the ring to the family,” Meggie said after a moment’s hesitation.
“I know how to speak for myself, girl,” Joan spat at Meggie.
“I hope you know how to protect yourself,” Zoann flared. “Because I’m ready to shove that ring up your ass and my fist down your throat.”
“Savages!” Charlotte hissed. “The lot of you.” She smiled at Kendall. “Except you, dear.”
Kendall shifted uncomfortably, but kept her mouth shut, which the girl should’ve done before she invited Charlotte.
“Joan, this isn’t going as planned, but imagine how happy Knox will be to hear Roxy wants you to plan the rehearsal dinner,” Kendall gushed. “He loves Roxy so much and knowing his mother and his fiancé are getting along will make him so happy.”
Joan scowled at Kendall, who didn’t blink or back down.
“Fine,” Joan huffed, glaring at Roxy. “I’ll do the rehearsal dinner only if Charlotte and Kendall help me. Do you have a problem with that, Roxanne?”
Kendall’s face fell.
“You can have Charlotte, but Kendall stays on my committee,” Roxy replied.
“Why don’t we let Kendall choose,” Charlotte suggested.
“I’m flattered to have this tug of war over me,” Kendall started with a smile. “Charlotte, I want to be with Roxy and the other ladies.”
“You’re right, dear. They do need all the help they can get,” Charlotte said.
“I’ve already talked to Reverend Mackey,” Joan cut in.
“For?” Roxy asked, contemplating dragging Charlotte from her chair and punching her in the mouth.
“The service, of course,” Joan said. “What do you think?”
“We’re not having Reverend Mackey,” Roxy said with a shake of her head. “We’re going to have Father Wilkins officiate.”
“Oh, my goodness,” Charlotte said faintly. “Are you kidding me? Kendall tell me she’s not serious.”
“Who is Father Wilkins?” Joan asked.
“A despicable crook who pretends to be a priest,” Charlotte said, then shivered delicately.
“He’s the man who’s marrying me and Knox,” Roxy said.
“Yeah, and renewing the vows between Lucas and me,” Bailey added.
“Father Wilkins heads up all of our religious events.” Besides a greeting and her invitation to Kendall, Meggie hadn’t said much, so Roxy was glad to have her input. “It’s a tradition that started when I married Christopher.”
Charlotte wrinkled her nose.
“We’ll see who Knox prefers,” Joan said.
“Knox prefers whoever the fuck I want,” Roxy snapped. She stood, tired of the drama. “I think it’s time to go. We have some difference of opinions that can lead to a nasty argument. Knox loves you, so I’d really prefer not to have a falling out with you.”
“How considerate.” Venom laced Joan’s words.
Meggie, Bailey, Zoann, Bunny, and Kendall stood.
“Kendall, dear, please stay. I can have a tete-a-tete with Charlotte.”
“I really need to get going, Joan. I’m sure you and Charlotte can catch up with each other some other time.”
“Charlotte, you can stay. I’ll see that you get home.”
Charlotte hung her head. “The place I live in is horrible. Nothing like where I once resided. I’m ashamed for you to see it.”
“My dear, don’t tax yourself,” Joan said. “I am not one to judge.”
Bitch, please.
Deciding she’d had enough, Roxy bid Joan and Charlotte farewell, then led the other girls out of the room, where a butler stood, waiting at the door.
“It’s a good thing we didn’t bring in the magazines,” Meggie chirped. “We would’ve carried them in for nothing.”
“We can still find a bridal shop to stop in. Perhaps, even make an appointment for a later date,” Bailey said, pressing the unlock button on her key fob. She turned to Kendall. “I’m not sure where we’re going, but you’re welcomed to follow us.”
Kendall shook her head. “No, but thank you. I need to get home.”
Roxy went to her and hugged her. “Hang in there, sugar,” she said.
“I’m trying,” Kendall whispered, for her ears alone. “But it’s hard. I feel like the outsider.”
“Come to dinner tomorrow night. You’ll see you’re still just as much part of the family as ever,” Roxy said.
Kendall nodded. “I will. Right now, I think I’ll go home and relax in a bubble bath.”
“Do that,” Roxy said.
They all left together, although, once they reached the main road, Bailey turned Roxy’s Escalade, followed by Zoann in her Jeep, in the opposite direction from Kendall’s Navigator.
Tomorrow night would be just like old times. Meanwhile, Roxy intended to find a way to talk to Knox in private.
They had a lot to discuss and some very dirty fucking to engage in. Roxy couldn’t wait.
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In the living room, Knox found the shelf of knick-knacks Outlaw had told him about, and added another one to the mix, one with a camera in the eye. Time was racing by. In the blink of an eye, over two hours had passed.
He needed to get everything else finished. He didn’t think the meeting would be over for a few hours, but he didn’t want to chance Kendall returning home early and finding him in her house.
In Kendall’s elegant little office, where her degrees graced the wall, she had more family photos on a shelf behind her desk.
Knox almost believed she missed her family. But not Kendall. She had no motherly genes. Nor the genes that made her a good wife and friend.
As he started to open one of the desk drawers, he remembered Outlaw had asked Knox to find Kendall’s medications, note the date they’d been filled, the quantity of each bottle, and the amount of pills left.
Too bad he didn’t have time for such an inconsequential task. Outlaw would just have to deal with it and find another way to invade even more of her privacy.
Knox scowled. He hated Kendall but the cop in him despised Outlaw’s criminal behavior. A problem to solve another day.
Brushing aside his annoyance, Knox yanked open the top desk drawer, finding nothing.
Slamming the drawer shut, he went to the fake plant on the file cabinet and attached the tiny camera on the stem. Satisfied at his progress, he left that room behind and went to the den. A huge TV hung on the wall.
Knox pulled up one of Stretch’s programs, punched in the code the man had given him, then logged into his surveillance system.
There he stood, in the middle of Kendall’s den, playing on the phone while being watched by the Smart TV Stretch had hacked into.
Satisfied, he went back to his suitcase, picked up his checklist, and scratched off another room. He still had the kids’ rooms and the patio to do, along with the foyer. Unfortunately, there were not many places to hide a camera in the foyer, so he wired a tiny microphone along the baseboard near the front door.
At his suitcase once again, he decided to bring it upstairs with him, since he also needed to do the hallway. That would be a lot to lug in his arms.
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