Chapter 33: Number 4 Just Entered The Family Group Chat

Ginny shook her head. "I still cannot believe you drunk married."

Dorian groaned. "Shut up, Ginny."

"I’m serious. You, of all people. Mr. Prenup himself."

Dorian slipped an arm around her shoulders and started walking her toward the front door. "I said shut up."

She was still laughing when they reached the townhouse. Dorian unlocked the door and ushered her inside. She moved into the living area and sat down. Her phone came out almost immediately.

"Be right back," Dorian said and disappeared deeper into the house.

She opened the family group chat and typed:

GH: met number 4 just now.

The message had barely delivered before the chat exploded to life. One person came online. Then another.

Then nearly everyone. The first reply came immediately.

AM: Ughhhhhhh.... can’t believe we are doing this all over again.

Ginny bit back a laugh.

Mum: How’s D?

Ginny barely had time to enjoy the first two responses before the chat began moving faster. She grinned and typed:

GH: I know right? But she seems okay. I think D’s making an effort.

A second later, Dorian came online. He immediately began reacting to messages with angry emojis.

One after another. Apparently this was his mature contribution to the discussion.

AM: I’m putting approximately zero energy into this latest train wreck.

Ginny winced.

Harsh.

Not entirely unexpected, though. The family had already survived three Dorian marriages. At this point, enthusiasm had become a limited resource.

Mum: How’s your brother?

DM: I really should mute this chat.

Ginny snorted. Daniel had joined. That was when Alexandra turned on her husband.

AM: You had one job, Daniel. Don’t let him do anything stupid. That was the whole point of going with him to Vegas.

Ginny covered her mouth, already laughing.

DM: It was Vegas, babe.

The chat exploded with laughing emojis. Dorian sent three angry faces in a row. Daniel had been there.

He had gone to Vegas with Dorian and the others after Divorce Number Three, supposedly to make sure his brother-in-law did not do anything spectacularly stupid.

Ginny typed again.

GH: I invited her to dinner this weekend.

AM: Count me out. Got arrangements with the kids.

GH: Sis, come on!

AM: And don’t you dare add her to the family group. I’m tired of the entries and exits.

Ginny burst out laughing.

Mum: I’ll just come see him myself.

GH: I’ll wait for you.

Mum: Now you respond to my messages?

Ginny rolled her eyes.

GH: You’re always worried about Dorian. It’s better to just ignore you.

Dad: Don’t talk to your mother like that.

Ginny straightened slightly even though nobody could see her. Some things apparently remained instinctive no matter how old you got.

GH: Sorry Dad.

She sent it quickly. Another angry reaction appeared from Dorian. Then finally, he stopped using emojis like an irritated teenager and typed.

DH: Mum! I’m fine! You don’t have to come here!

Mum: Nonsense. On my way.

Dorian came back downstairs a moment later and found Ginny still sitting comfortably in the living room, phone in hand, looking far too entertained by the chaos she had created. He glared at her. "All I did was miss one day of work. One day!"

Ginny looked up. "It’s unusual."

"That doesn’t make it a crisis."

"It got us all worried. Dad was worried too. And he never is."

Maurice Heathcliffe did not panic. His father had spent decades handling the private disasters of rich families who seemed determined to ruin themselves in increasingly creative ways. Very little surprised him anymore.

So the fact that even Maurice had apparently noticed Dorian taking a day off meant the family had collectively decided something catastrophic must have happened.

He walked farther into the room. "I’ll still have to go through some cases at home anyway."

she asked the question everyone in the family was thinking. "How long do you think this one will last?"

"I don’t know. Plus, I think everyone should stay out of this one." Dorian rubbed a hand over his face. "She can meet everyone once and that’s it."

"And then what? We pretend she doesn’t exist?"

"I mean everyone stops getting involved."

Ginny laughed. "Trust me, Dorian. No one wants to form attachments. Especially not with someone you married after five minutes." She crossed one leg over the other. "You know we all have a bet going on."

Dorian sighed. "I know."

Ginny started counting. "I bet a year. Daniel has his money on two. Alexandra doesn’t care."

"That sounds like Alexandra."

"Dad says nine months."

That actually made sense. His father knew him well. Maurice would probably recognize exactly what Dorian had done.

Enough time to calm the vultures, stabilize the press and give everyone something else to talk about.

"Mum says till death do you part."

Dorian almost laughed. His mother was definitely going to lose. He looked at Ginny. "You all need another source of entertainment."

"Nothing beats this one."

"Do you have any idea how to cook?"

"Where did that come from?"

"Naomi is crazy. She has a food fetish."

Ginny started laughing. Dorian continued, completely serious.

"She is going to come back home tonight and insist on homemade food. I have work tomorrow. She’ll start cooking and talking, and then suddenly it’s two in the morning again."

Ginny slowly smiled.

"Then I will have to go to bed at 3am! Again!"

"Mum will help you. She’s on her way."

"You can’t do anything?" Dorian threw his hands into the air again. "Wonderful. Absolutely useless. I’m going to get my laptop." He headed toward the elevator.

The elevator doors had just started closing when his phone beeped again. he pulled out his phone.

GH: I’m changing my bet to two years.

His eyes narrowed. "I’m going to kill that girl," he muttered. His phone beeped again.

DM: Why?

GH: Just a feeling.

Dorian looked up from the screen.

Two years?

What the hell had she seen in less than fifteen minutes that suddenly doubled Naomi’s expected survival time?

He reacted to the message with an angry emoji purely out of principle and shoved the phone back into his pocket.

*****

By the time Naomi arrived back at the townhouse that evening, she was exhausted. Two jobs in one day had never exactly been relaxing, but today had come with several extra complications.

She parked the Range Rover in the garage and sat behind the wheel for a few seconds. She was still getting used to the car. She grabbed her bag and flowers which were already beginning to look droopy and took the elevator to the fourth floor. Her shoes came off almost immediately.

Work clothes followed. Within minutes, Naomi had changed into a comfortable pair of shorts and a tiny strapped top, tied her hair back.

She had originally planned to bring two plates of food home from the restaurant. Unfortunately, by closing time, there had been no complete meals left.

A bit of this. A portion of that. Nothing she could bring home and proudly call dinner. She decided Chef’s salad would be perfect.

Thirty minutes at most. Dorian could eat, and get into bed at a respectable hour. She left the guest floor and started down the stairs toward the kitchen.

She had taken the stairs more often since moving in, partly because elevators felt unnecessary when she was only going down a couple of floors and partly because the sheer absurdity of needing transportation inside one man’s house still bothered her.

Halfway down, she heard voices. She slowed. They were coming from the ground floor. Apparently Dorian’s sister was still around.

They sounded like they were leaving. She hurried down the remaining stairs. When she reached the ground floor, she found Ginny immediately.

Dorian stood nearby and beside them was an older woman. The three of them were already making their way toward the door.

Naomi hovered awkwardly at the edge of the room. "Hey..." she said nervously.