Free The Luxe by Anna Godbersen

intention?”
    Penelope did not ask herself what he was thinking. Instead, she turned her head and let him gaze at her striking profile and impossibly tiny waist. She could hear his soft breathing, and she waited. She heard him shift on his feet and pull at his watch chain.
    “As long as I’m here,” he said at last, “I might as well have an iced tea or a Scotch or whatever you’re serving.”
    “We have whatever you’d like, Mr. Schoonmaker.” She was still facing away from him, fully aware of what Henry thought of her figure. She wanted him to watch and wonder whether she were really angry or not. “But you see I’ve just sent my maid away, so I will have to prepare it myself.”
    “All right, then, if you can do it in a hurry,” Henry replied. “I can’t stay long.”
    Penelope shot him a crisp smile and then gave him one long, suggestive wink. She began walking down the shimmering, reflective hallways, her heels clicking against the marble, listening for Henry’s steps behind her.
    The kitchen was dark but clean, with its rows of ironpots and pans hanging from the ceiling. There was a fire going in the corner, but no sign of any of the cooks or servants. Penelope looked at Henry’s card and then back at him. “I wonder what it says?” she asked with an arched eyebrow.
    Henry pursed his lips. Penelope noted the sheen on his perfect, lightly bronzed face and the twinkle in his dark eyes as he took a step forward. “You like me, don’t you?” he asked, ignoring her question.
    There was a touch of irony in his voice, but his tone was more serious than she had ever known it to be before. Penelope nodded. “I suppose I do.” She held her breath as she waited to see where this was going.
    “Why?” Henry’s eyes were gazing steadily at hers. If she hadn’t known better, she would have mistaken his expression for earnestness. She wondered, for a brief moment, how close to a proposal they might be.
    “Why?” she repeated, and then let out a loud, flat laugh.
    “Because in romance—as in all things—I choose only the best for myself. I am the best of the girls of my set, Henry, and you are the best of the men. The richest, the brightest.” She took a step toward him. “The most fun. Because I want everyone to look at us and just dry up with envy that two people so superior in every respect have found each other. That’s why .”
    Henry lifted an eyebrow and looked down at his polished shoes. “The richest, the brightest, the most fun…Soundsabout right.” He nodded again at his shoes before looking up and giving Penelope one of those full, glowing smiles. “Anyway, as I was saying, I’m surprised that a house of this size and status—the best, as you say—would not have a kitchen staffed at all daylight hours,” he said, watching her.
    “In a house this new and grand, we have more than one kitchen, naturally. And I told the staff they wouldn’t be needing this one today.” Penelope brought his note to her face and drew it along under her nose as though smelling it might give her some indication of its contents. She pretended to consider a moment before tossing it into the fire, where she watched it flare up with a self-satisfied smile. Then she turned and surveyed the various surfaces that filled the large room. She chose a high, narrow table and arranged herself on it. Her back pressed against the wall; her legs dangled over the edge.
    “I guess you’ll have to tell me what that card said yourself,” Penelope said flirtatiously. She moved her hands over the bodice of her dress to smooth it, discreetly revealing more skin than she would have shown to the general public, and then pulled a small cigarette from the folds of her skirt. She smiled at Henry, lit her cigarette, and exhaled. She recognized that in the moment, despite being one of the richest girls in all New York, she looked rather cheap. She had known Henry a little while now, and she was well aware that he liked these