The sales associate bowed slightly, voice full of apology.
“Ms. Haverford, right this way, please. I’m terribly sorry for keeping you waiting. We’ve already prepared the pieces you requested to see.”
Lydia swept in with a stony face, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. The nerve of them—to make her wait? She’d spent six figures in this boutique just this season, and they dared let her stand outside for even a minute? Unthinkable.
Truth was, her mood had been foul all day. Ever since that night at the villa, she’d barely left her room. Her father had scolded her, said she was thin-skinned, spoiled, that if she couldn’t even handle a small scandal, she’d run the company into the ground.
She’d cried, of course. And as usual, her father’s temper melted; he’d handed her his bla
