Chapter 58 The Belvedere
CHAPTER 58: The Belvedere
Vera
The engine of the sleek sports car died with a soft, expensive purr. We had arrived. Chauncey didn't look at me, his gaze was fixed ahead, on the front of the bustling restaurant on the upscale streets of Manhattan.
“This is the place,” he said simply. “You’ll find your friend working there.”
I clutched my bag, a contradictory mix of anxiety and hope swirling in my chest as I looked at the storefront.
When he told me that he saw Cherry working at a restaurant I was surprised, because the last I knew, she was still working at the nightclub.
“Thank you, Chauncey. Thank you for driving me here. You didn't have to, but you did. I really appreciate it.”
“Don't worry about it," he replied, his tone neutral. He finally glanced my way, noting the way I was white-knuckling my purse. “Relax Vera. I’ll take care of my brother.”
After he told me about Cherry, he perceived I wanted to see her, but I was hesitant. So, he asked, and I told him about Silas’s rule.
“I know you’re worried about breaking his rules, but I’ll handle Silas. Just go and see your friend.”
I believed him.
And I believed that if Silas was going to get mad, which I was sure of…especially after this morning, then at least Chauncey’s interference would temper whatever the outcome.
“I’ll be quick,” I promised.
He smoothed back his manbun, and slid down his dark shades to shield his eyes.
“It's okay. You can take your time. I have a few errands to run. I'll be back to pick you up later.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
I stepped out of the car, and he sped away. After taking a deep breath, I walked into the establishment.
The smooth, liquid notes of a lone saxophone drifted through the air of The Belvedere, a sound as polished as the marble floors and sparkling antique chandeliers. It was the kind of music designed to mask the sounds of heavy secrets being traded over expensive bottles of wine and caviars eaten on a mundane afternoon.
The air was filled with the clinking of silverware and the low hum of midday conversation.
I took a seat at a small table in the corner, my eyes anxiously scanning the room for a glimpse of the familiar candy-apple red hair of Cherry.
Before I could spot her, a man in a sharp suit approached with a look of dawning realization. A quick scan of the name tag attached to his suit, and I realised he was the manager.
“Mrs. Rutherford?” he asked, his voice a mix of awe and professional concern.
I blinked, surprised, and a bit thrown off balance. “Do I know you?”
“No, madam. I apologize for the intrusion, but I recognized you from the news. It is an honor to have you here at The Belvedere.”
I felt a hot flush of embarrassment.
“Oh,” I mouthed. “Yes, thank you.”
He smiled, eager to please. “What would you have, madam? I'll personally attend to your order today.”
“Actually, I’m looking for someone who works here. Her name is Cherry?”
The manager’s eyebrows shot up, surprise mixing with a bit of apprehension.
“Oh, Cherry? She's one of our new takes. Is there a problem, Mrs. Rutherford? Has she—”
“No, no problem at all,” I said quickly, trying to allay his obvious anxiety. “She’s a very close friend of mine. I just wanted to see her. Then, she'll be the one to take my order when I'm ready,” I added quickly.
I knew this was unconventional. But I had long realised that carrying the name Rutherford was an unconventionality on its own.
Relief washed over the manager.
“Of course. Right away. I'll send her over.”
It was barely a minute later, when Cherry appeared. Her expression was one of utter apprehension until her eyes landed on me.
“Vera?” she gasped. “Oh my god, Vera! It's really you.”
She rushed over, and we collided in a fierce hug. I didn’t realise how much I had missed her until we were squishing each other tightly.
When she pulled back, her eyes dipped to my waist, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
“Well, look at you! I see your belly isn't so flat anymore, girl,” she arched her brow. “I guess I won't be envying that second waistline of yours for a couple of months,” she joked.
I laughed, the sound feeling more genuine than anything I’d felt in days.
“I’ve missed you so much, Cherry,” I said sitting down, still holding her hand, almost as if she’d disappear if I let go.
“You had better, else there'd be a problem,” she said, pulling out a chair. “But I'm still mad at you.”
I frowned. “Huh?”
She raised a perfectly penciled brow.
“I was quite surprised when my boss informed me that ‘Mrs. Rutherford’ was asking for me. I thought he’d lost his mind.”
“I really wanted to see you.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits.
“Why didn't you tell me you were leaving on a honeymoon trip? I felt like a total idiot when I found out.”
I frowned, my confusion mounting.
“Honeymoon?” I repeated. “Cher, what are you talking about?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line.
“The night you called me, remember? I picked the call, but the line got cut off before I could hear your voice,” she said.
It must have been the night of the gala. After I saw Damien.
“I tried calling back, but the line was disconnected and then the phone was switched off. I was worried sick.”
“I remember now,” I muttered.
Her expression softened.
“I called Lily the next day, because I couldn't reach you, and she told me that you and Silas had gone on an impromptu honeymoon. She said he insisted that communication wouldn't be possible until you were back.” She shrugged. “I figured you were off on some private island.”
I sat back, stunned.
Lily had lied.
My heart twinged as I realized she must have done it to protect Cherry from the mess with Damien.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward.
“Cherry, we never went on a honeymoon," I said softly.
Her forehead scrunched in confusion. “What do you mean?”