The week flew by uneventfully, and finally, it was Wednesday — the day of the yacht party.
James stood in front of the large wall mirror in his bathroom, taking one final look at himself.
Dressed in a crisp white tailored linen shirt — the top two buttons casually left open — slim-fit navy chinos that framed his build perfectly, and a pair of dark blue boat shoes, he looked effortlessly sharp.
His wrist bore the Patek Philippe Complications White Gold 5172G-001, and he had a pair of aviator sunglasses tucked into his collar. The sunglasses were more for style than function.
Satisfied, James smiled faintly, adjusted the cuffs of his shirt once more, and turned away from the mirror.
He walked into his room, grabbed his phone and the key fob to his Porsche Panamera, and headed downstairs.
In the living room, Patty and Leslie sat chatting and watching TV. They looked up as he passed.
James waved lightly when he saw them looking at him.
"Heading out?" Patty asked curiously.
