The Perfect Woman (Rose Gold Book 2)

by Nicole French

  At last, Calvin sucked in a deep breath and stood. “I’m sorry it doesn’t meet your lofty goals, your highness,” he gritted out. “I’m going to the john, and then I have to make a phone call. When I get back, maybe you’ll have learned to appreciate the things your husband does for you instead of being so goddamn selfish.” He glared at me, then Caitlyn, then back at me again. “Happy fucking anniversary, you callous bitch.”

  Chapter Eight

  He stormed out, leaving us sitting at the table in awkward silence—me staring at my plate, Caitlyn staring at me.

  After recovering myself, I looked up at her. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  Caitlyn looked pityingly at me. But unsurprised. I wasn’t sure why Calvin never felt the need to censor himself around her. Maybe it was because they came from similar backgrounds, but I supposed it provided some relief. Someone knew who he really was. Even if she couldn’t do anything about it.

  “No need to apologize,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry things haven’t changed much.”

  I shrugged, willing the dread that had suddenly settled over my chest like a fifty-pound weight to lift a bit. “It is what it is.”

  We both were quiet while I pushed pasta around my plate. My appetite had fled.

  “How are you?” Caitlyn asked after a minute. “How are you really?”

  I stilled my fork. My resentment about her behavior over the last year returned with a flourish. “How in God’s name can you ask me that?”

  Caitlyn had the decency to look slightly ashamed, despite the fact that her face couldn’t actually move very much. “Look, N, I know things have been off between us since my little stunt—”

  “You mean the part where you tried to trick me and the rest of my family into ruining my cousin’s wedding?” I demanded. “Or the part where you showed up with his nemesis at New Year’s and shoved it in his face just before he was arrested? You know my family, Caitlyn. You know we don’t take kindly to treachery.”

  Caitlyn flinched at the sudden sharp edge in my tone. Any other time, I might have lowered my voice. I might have apologized. But right now, I was tired of being run over roughshod. Matthew, even if imagined, still chanted in the back of my mind.

  Don’t take their shit, baby. You deserve better.

  Caitlyn seemed to sense it. After a moment, she sighed. “Yes, well. I do regret all of it, you know. Can you blame me for being a teensy bit jealous? After all, I did have such a terrible crush on Eric when we were kids.”

  “And that makes it okay?”

  “No, of course not. But I’ve apologized a million times over. Is it really worth it to end our entire friendship over one mistake? Besides, that all happened months ago. I’m happily remarried now. Kyle and I are just two peas in a pod.”

  I couldn’t help raising a brow at that one. Kyle Shaw, Caitlyn’s third husband at this point, was at least thirty years older than her. I’d known the man most of my life as a passing acquaintance of my parents—what he and Caitlyn had in common, I could list on one hand.

  Caitlyn tilted her head, like she was in on the joke. “Okay. So maybe we’re not in the same pod. But he’s nice. And I can’t say that about the last two, can I?”

  I released a breath. Sometimes I spent so much time thinking about Caitlyn’s and my differences, I forgot about the things we had in common.

  “I’m glad you’re happy,” I said. “You deserve it. Really.”

  “So do you.” Caitlyn glanced in the direction Calvin had gone, then back at me and leaned a bit closer. “Which is why, between friends, I have to ask—do you really want to be entertaining other men right now? Especially knowing what yours is capable of?”

  I jerked. “What?”

  Caitlyn looked at me like a child who had lost its toy. “N, please. It’s all over you.”

  I couldn’t help but look down at myself, as if my indiscretion was somehow evident on my clothes. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

  “Well, for one, your lips look like that Jenner girl. And since I know you don’t do injections, I’d assume you were kissing someone.”

  “I wasn’t—”

  “And secondly”—she glanced toward the bathroom again—“the bug bite excuse only works once, darling. Next time, tell your ‘friend’ to keep his teeth to himself. For both your good.”

  I peered at my open collar, then hurriedly did up an additional button to hide the bright red mark peeking over the silk. Lord, she was right. Matthew hadn’t exactly been gentle, but it also hadn’t been that bad six hours earlier.

  I laid my hands on the table and forced myself to look at Caitlyn straight on as I willed every bit of the mask I had worn my entire life back into place. “I’m only going to say this once. I am not having an affair, Caitlyn.”

  “Come on!” she hissed. “I saw you at Lincoln Center in your slinky red dress. Are you really trying to tell me that you and the lawyer were only there as ‘friends’?”

  “As Calvin said, I was there as a favor to Eric. Besides, I am not you, Caitlyn.” I gritted out the lie, glancing over my shoulder toward the door. Calvin was nowhere to be seen. “And for the record, Mr. Zola was very forthcoming that night about your previous rendezvous with him.”

  Caitlyn reared like she’d been bitten by a snake. “He didn’t.”

  I arched a brow. “He did. He felt, given the work he was doing for Eric and Jane, that he needed to be transparent.”

  “Did you…did you tell Calvin?” she asked.

  I frowned. Why would it matter if Calvin knew about Caitlyn’s extramarital activities? I would have thought she’d be more concerned about her husband discovering the connection. Or Eric, given her feelings for him.

  I set my wineglass back on the table. “No. And if we can stop this ridiculous conversation, I’ll continue keeping it to myself.”

  Caitlyn exhaled with relief. “Thank you. Really. I just—well, I don’t want to make more trouble for you.” She looked me over again. “But really, how do you explain the puffy lips and the—”

  “It was Calvin,” I said finally. “And it was not from kissing, if you must know.”

  Caitlyn sat for a moment, digesting my meaning. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it before. We’d had these conversations more than once over the years, though not for some time. She was the only one who ever knew anything about what my life was really like. Not all of it. Not even most of it. But the important parts. The parts that kept me in my place.

  “Oh,” she said finally. “I see. And it’s been—”

  “More since he’s been home,” I admitted. “Since the indictment, he’s under a stay-at-home order. He can’t leave the state.”

  She was still, understanding completely what that meant for me. “Have they interviewed you at all?”

  I shook my head. “Who?”

  “What do you mean, who? The lawyers or whoever. Zola.”

  Just the sound of his name on her lips made that protective urge ripple through me all over again. With effort, I shoved it back down. “No. I’m covered by spousal privilege. Calvin has claimed it.”

  Caitlyn exhaled. “That’s good.” She reached over and patted my hand. “Calvin will get a good settlement, or just get off, N. I’m sure of it. Your lawyers are too good for a puny district attorney to manage. Then everything will go right back to normal.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of.

  We sat in silence a bit longer, forking our food, but not really eating it. Caitlyn, of course, didn’t eat carbs any more than I used to, so she wasn’t particularly interested in the pasta to begin with. And my appetite did not return.

  “Are you—are you okay, N?” she asked finally.

  I looked up. “Why?”

  It was then the old version of my friend resurfaced. The one who used to spend hours and hours in my room with me after school. The one who wasn’t only interested in boys. The one who, at one point in my life, knew me better than anyone.

  “You j
ust seem…I don’t know. Different. Lost, I guess, though I don’t mean to repeat what Calvin said.”

  I stared at my plate. If Matthew was here, he would have taken my hand under the table and squeezed it just to let me know he understood. Or maybe he would have leaned over and whispered deep-voiced encouragement in my ear.

  I like you different, doll.

  But that wasn’t going to happen again. Even if we had any number of other illicit meetings at the Grace or some other clandestine location. What I wanted, what I thought he wanted—a life, a future—that could never happen. Matthew had been very clear. If Calvin won, he would look for any reason to have Matthew disbarred and shamed. Ruined. And if he didn’t…any hint of misconduct would ruin the entire case, and Matthew’s career along with it.

  I thought of the people at home he supported. The house he had bought not just for him, but his sister and his niece. The grandmother in the Bronx whom I was certain he helped financially here and there. The sister at whose shop he purchased all the suits he needed for court.

  It wasn’t just my future at stake here. It was Matthew’s, and one of the warmest, most loving families I’d ever met. I could never forgive myself if I ruined a thing for any of them.

  But unlike Caitlyn, I did believe in Matthew’s abilities. My love wasn’t the only one who could do research. My assistant, Moira, had done a little digging and discovered that while he was still young, his conviction record was easily the best in his bureau, and one of the best of all three hundred and some attorneys employed by Kings County. He was very, very good at winning once he put his mind to it.

  It was inspiring, actually. The more I learned about how much he had done to create the life he had, the more I wanted something like that for myself. And so, perhaps Caitlyn was right. Perhaps something was different about me after all.

  “I want something more,” I admitted for the first time. Out loud. Or to myself.

  “What do you mean?” Caitlyn asked, not quite able to keep the envy out of her voice. “You have everything you could ever want. Well, for the most part. And you could have that too if you were just a little more careful.” She winked conspiratorially. “Once Calvin can travel again for work, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

  I ignored her innuendo. “You don’t know what it’s like, not choosing anything for yourself.”

  “Don’t I? I’ve only had to shackle myself to other people’s things to survive,” she said bitterly.

  I compressed a smile. “So, you and Kyle aren’t a match made in heaven, then?”

  In response, I received a dry expression that almost made me laugh. The Caitlyn I knew before. Frank and honest, even about her own deceptions. It was nice to see her again.

  “I’ve made my choices just like you have,” she said. “Which has been even harder since I can’t have kids, of course. Otherwise I’d just sail that child support ship for as long as I needed. But spousal support doesn’t last forever, and this time I was able to negotiate a solid prenup. Even if I can’t outlast him—Kyle has a bad heart, you know—I’ll walk away with real security. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  I nodded. Perhaps I was being a bit myopic. Unlike me, Caitlyn had come from next to nothing. She was a scholarship student at the preparatory school where we met. Had never gone to college, instead attaching herself to wealthy men and marrying multiple times to keep herself afloat. She had no useful skills other than the socializing she had learned from, well, people like me.

  How could I blame her for doing what she needed to support herself? How could I blame anyone for doing that in such a cruel world?

  “Okay,” I said. “Then you do. I just…” I shook my head. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. This ‘normal.’ I’m just not sure what that means yet.”

  “Does that mean you and Calvin…” She glanced at the obscene diamond ring still sitting on the table in front of me. “Won’t be renewing those eternal vows after all?”

  I shook my head in a hurry. Even if she was playing the friend right now, I was under no illusions she wouldn’t possibly use a bit of currency—like my intention to leave Calvin after the trial—against me should it benefit her.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t know about a big ceremony, but I’m not planning anything else, if that’s what you’re asking. I just mean I want to do something more with my life besides attend benefit luncheons and meet with my trainer. I’m just not sure what that is yet.”

  Caitlyn examined me curiously as she took a long drink of her wine. But before she could reply, the dining room door burst open again, and Calvin rushed in, phone in hand.

  “I have to go out,” he said. “A deal I was working on today went south, and I have to go downtown.”

  I turned. “At ten o’clock at night?”

  “Yes!” Calvin snarled. “And I have more bad news too. It’s probably going to take me weeks to fix this mess, so I’ll probably just stay at the office for the week so Olivia doesn’t get in my way. I’ll be back tonight to get my things.”

  My mouth dropped. “You’re kidding. Livy’s only home for a week before she leaves for camp. She’ll be crushed if she can’t see you.”

  “Olivia will deal with it,” Calvin snapped. “Honestly, Nina, whose side are you on here? I’m the one who’s been accused of these bullshit charges that are currently ruining my life. I’d think you’d have a little more consideration for your own husband instead of your turncoat cousin and that trampy little chink he married.”

  Caitlyn and I both recoiled at the racial slur. I gripped my fork, wanting to throw it at him. But my best hope for avoiding a repeat of the night before was to choose my battles. Ignore these moments. Try to let the dust settle.

  “I have to go,” he said again. “But when I get back, I expect a little more gratitude. And that ring on your fucking finger.”

  My mouth dropped. I literally had no idea what to say to that. I had absolutely no intention of walking down any sort of aisle or parading this sham of a marriage beyond the next few months.

  But before I could reply, Calvin turned to leave. “Caitlyn, I’ll help you get a car downstairs if you want.”

  Caitlyn looked mildly irritated at our conversation being interrupted, but nodded and stood up with him, pulling her purse over her shoulder.

  “Call me, N,” she said. “Let’s get lunch soon. Or any time you just want to talk.”

  I nodded and took up my wineglass, grateful more than anything else to be left alone again. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t bother with her when she’s in a mood,” Calvin grumbled.

  He didn’t return until early the next morning, shuffling past the dining room to pass out in his suite just as I was sitting down to a light breakfast after my morning run. I didn’t ask where he had been. Because I didn’t particularly care, but also because I was fairly certain I already knew.

  Some things were better left alone.

  What was the phrase?

  Plausible deniability.

  But lastly, I was too consumed with the other thoughts running around my mind. Waiting up to see if my jailer would pay me a visit, I didn’t fall asleep until nearly three in the morning. As I waited, I stared at the crown molding of my ceiling, all the conversations I’d had that day running through my mind.

  I’d give you the world if I could.

  I’ve made my choices just like you have.

  I want more.

  I was struck suddenly by how true it really was. Since January, I had thought “more” meant Matthew, but as it became clear that relationship was doomed from the start, I couldn’t help thinking about other options.

  What would my life be, if not ensconced in this ivory tower?

  What else lay for me outside of being a mother, a wife, a vapid socialite?

  What would I do instead?

  And just as my body forced me into a restless slumber for the first time in what seemed like forever, I permitted myself to imagine a life where I wasn’t just Mrs. C
alvin Gardner or Celeste de Vries’s granddaughter.

  A life where my name was only Nina.

  And I belonged to myself.

  Interlude I

  August 2018

  Matthew

  The line for confession was long, even for a Saturday. It wound around the corner of the apse where the big wood box was housed, down the left aisle of the church until it was halfway to the main entrance. And because I had nothing else better to do while I shuffled along with this week’s collection of sinners in Belmont, I shot off a quick picture to my sister, Frankie.

  Me: I’m going to be here all damn afternoon. Tell Nonna to leave a plate for me. I won’t make lunch.

  Her reply was almost immediate.

  Frankie: What do you expect? School doesn’t start for another week, and everyone’s guilty about yelling at their kids all summer long.

  I snorted. They were doing more than that, I was willing to bet. Domestic violence cases involving minors did go up in the summer, partly because, yeah, everyone was at home with their kids. I could speak to that from personal experience. My old man was a mean fuckin’ bastard when he was drunk, ten times worse when I was home mouthing off in ninety-five-degree heat with no air conditioner. New York was a swamp in August. I started running errands for my grandfather’s garage when I was just eleven, as much to get out of the house as for extra pocket money for me and my sisters. The little ones could go to Nonna’s to escape the chaos of our house during the day, but at night, we all had to go back to the belt, and later, for me, the fist.

  I peered down the line, looking for the guilty ones. The guys with extra bruises on their knuckles or the mothers holding the collars of their kids’ shirts a little too tight. None today that I could see, but they were out there.

  Me, I didn’t have any kids, but I had a lot to atone for.

  Cursing, sure.