by Mia Asher
“Yeah?”
“How are you? Are you happy? Is this what you want?”
I look up at the ceiling before focusing on her face once more. “What is happiness? To me, it’s a sporadic feeling that never lasts.” I think of Lawrence and our time together and how he left this morning to go away without even bothering to say one word to my face, showing me exactly what I am to him. I think of my magical summer with Ronan and how he looked at me the last time I saw him.
“No, Elly, I don’t want happiness. I want safety, so yes … this is what I want.”
“Oh, Blaire.”
“Don’t oh, Blaire me, Elly. I’m fine. Truly, I am.” Her eyes, so full of doubt and sadness, tell me that she doesn’t believe a word I just said.
I smile brighter. “Anyway, how about some champagne?”
“Blaire, champagne won’t make your problems go away.”
“You’re right. However, champagne makes everything better.”
Ronan
“DO YOU HAVE AN INVITATION, SIR?” the uniformed man standing by the iron gate asks, doubtfully looking at my beat-up truck.
“I don’t, but I’m expected.” I hope.
“What’s your name?” he asks less politely than before, probably thinking I’m full of shit.
“Ronan Geraghty.”
I observe the man search for my name on the guest list he’s holding. After flipping a page or two as slowly and leisurely as he possibly can, he looks up, and grudgingly says, “Have a good evening.”
I start the engine again. Rachel wasn’t kidding.
He moves to the side and presses a button on the brick wall. I watch as the grand iron bars open for me, luring me—welcoming me into the unknown. They faintly whisper to enter the exuberant world that they zealously protect, where everything is possible and easy and only champagne problems exist. As I begin to drive up the long winding path that will take me to the main house, a house that I can see rising as high as a brightly lit mountain up the hill, I think I’m about to willingly swim with sharks in uncharted waters.
I’m so fucked.
I hand my keys to the horrified valet and watch him drive away in my second-hand truck. And like my car, I don’t belong here. Tugging at my tie that suddenly feels as though it were a noose around my neck, I turn to face the front doors of one of the biggest houses I’ve ever seen.
I hesitate as I consider leaving none the wiser. But in that short moment, my past, present, and future flash before me. My mom reading The Little Prince to me in bed. My parents slow-dancing in our kitchen while Jackie and I secretly watched them behind the couch. My parents happily waving good-bye to me as I rushed to class, my head full of comic books and sports. Grandma and Grandpa telling us that Mom and Dad were in heaven. Growing up in the blink of an eye, weeping my childhood away on a tear-soaked pillow—a shattered childhood. Learning how to live, how to laugh again. Finding solace in photography and eventually Ollie. Standing outside the Met, waiting for my boss to come out, waiting for my life to begin. My life beginning the moment my eyes landed on her, a blue-eyed enchantress hiding a deceiving soul behind her poisoning beauty. Her laughter filling my once empty bedroom walls and empty heart. Her kisses, her mouth, her body, her moans, her taste on my tongue bringing me down to my knees, fooling me into thinking that she was mine. Her words telling me that I wasn’t enough, that it was all a dream and that it was time for me to wake the fuck up. Watching her disappear inside her apartment, taking with her whatever was left of me. Long days and even longer nights ahead. My friend Edgar having everything. Resenting Edgar. Hating myself for resenting him. Meeting Rachel. Her welcoming body moving underneath me. Her seducing words. Looking around my shitty apartment after she left, wondering why not—why not me. Coming here, chasing pipe dreams.
If I leave now, I’ll go back to nothing—back to being no one—but if I stay …
Maybe.
I imagine myself surrounded by opulence and success. And what a seductive picture it paints. I run a hand through my hair and walk inside the gilded world shining in front of me.
She’s standing at the foot of the grand staircase. Rachel. Her ivory white body covered in form fitting cream-colored silk shines like a lone star in a sea of black gowns and tuxedos.
I should go to her, but I want to admire her for a moment longer. She’s breathtaking. I watch a man standing too close to her place his hand on her lower back as he leans in and whispers something in her ear. She turns to look at him and smiles politely, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s the smile I first saw outside the gallery. Ice cold. Untouchable. And somehow, I find myself pleased that there are no traces of the Rachel who spent one uninhibited, wild night in my bed. The Rachel who I know exists under that finely manicured and expensive exterior hidden from him.
I take a swig of the beer I’d grabbed from a passing waiter. I’m about to walk toward her when I sense someone coming to stand next to me. “Ronan? Is that you?”
I turn to look at the woman on my left, taking in her familiar features. Chin-length brown hair. Very pretty. “Elly, right?” She’s the girl I brought to Lawrence’s townhouse the other day. Blaire’s best friend.
“Yep. What are you doing here? Are you work—” She catches herself, and blushes. “I’m so sorry. I can be such a dickhead at times.”
“Don’t apologize. To be honest, I’m wondering the same thing.”
She laughs, her brown eyes sparkling warmly. “Same here. This party’s insane, isn’t it?”
“You could say that.” She scans the room, taking everything in. I clear my throat and try to appear indifferent as I ask, “is Blaire here with you?”
“No, I’m here with Alessandro. His parents know the woman who’s throwing the party. Rachel, I think?”
“I see,” I say, burying a hand in the pocket of my rented tuxedo.
Elly watches me for a second too long as a small frown forms on her forehead. She’s quiet for a minute or two. “I feel like a heroine in one of those Regency books that Blaire loves so much. You know? Where the girl goes to a ball dressed in a beautiful gown and steals the duke’s heart with one dance or some shit like that.”
I stare straight ahead of me, picturing a blushing Blaire on my bed with an old paperback in her hands as she reads out loud to me. The memory makes me smile. “I always joked that I couldn’t compete against a duke.”
As soon as I utter those words, I realize the mistake I’ve just made. I steal a glance at the girl who just baited the truth out of me and see understanding dawning in her deceptively innocent face. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the guy Blaire was seeing over the summer. The one she was crazy about.”
I look away, flinching.
“I knew it. She stared at me funny when I mentioned your name. At the time, I thought it was my imagination, but now I see it all so clearly.”
“So what if I am? It’s over.”
“No, I don’t think so. Like Blaire, you carry your heart in your eyes,” she says quietly.
I clench my fists. Even when she’s not here, she manages to fuck with my peace of mind. There’s no reprieve from her. She once was heaven and now she’s the hell I’m burning in. “She’s part of the past. Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say, beginning to move away.
She grabs my forearm and stops me, her small hand gripping it with strength I didn’t know she possessed. “Don’t give up on her,” she pleads.
“I’m done. She made her choice, and I wasn’t it.”
“You love her. Still. I can see it in your eyes.”
“No, Elly. You’re wrong. I never loved Blaire.” I smile wryly. “I loved a lie.” I walk away then, leaving Elly behind.
“She loves you. She’s just too afraid to admit it!”
Closing my eyes, I stop momentarily. Part of me wants to go back and ask her what she means. I want her words to give me hope, illuminate the darkness I’m drowning in, but I don’t. Instead, I continue walking. I turn my back on Elly
and the man I used to be; anger, resentment, jealousy propelling my each step.
I move to stand behind Rachel, who’s now talking to a man. Pushing myself flush against her back, her sweet ass cradling my cock, I pull her long hair to the side and kiss the curve of her neck once, not giving a fuck about the stranger watching us. She trembles under my mouth.
“Hello, Rachel. Miss me?”
She turns to face me, blushing. “You came.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t seem surprised.”
“No, I’m not. I knew you would come.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I caress her blushing cheek with the back of my fingers. “I forgot how lovely you look when you blush like that for me.”
Someone clears his throat, reminding us that we aren’t alone. She licks her lips as though she could taste me there.
“Behave,” she mouths.
“I don’t want to.” I lean in, whispering in her ear, “What I want is to fuck you again.”
“You’re impossible.”
I grin as she shakes her head, hiding a pleased smile. She grabs my hand and spins on her feet until we’re facing her guest, an older man wearing a funky bow tie and bright green glasses. “Carl, I’d like to introduce you to Ronan. He’s the photographer I was telling you about. And Ronan, this is Carl Brunswick, my closest friend and owner of The Jackson.”
Fucking hell. My eyes widen. The Jackson? The Jackson is the most exclusive art gallery in New York, Los Angeles, Paris, Honk Kong, Dubai, Tokyo, and Milan. Hell, if the Carl Brunswick takes an interest in you it means that you’ve made it. Not even Edgar with his million dollar paintings has been able to get in The Jackson.
“A pleasure, sir,” I say.
He shakes my hand. “Oh yes, I remember now. Our diamond in the rough.” He pauses, studying my clothes, my hair, my face, and my hands. “He’s beautiful, Rachel. Where did you find him?”
She hesitates. “I met him at Edgar Juarez’s exhibit.”
A sly smile appears on his face. “Really? If my memory doesn’t fail me, which it never does, by the way, I seem to recollect that I waited for you inside the gallery for hours and you never showed up.”
I sense Rachel’s discomfort, so I interrupt them, saying, “It’s my fault. I asked her for a drink before going in.”
“Drinks, eh? Is that what you young people call it nowadays?” He chuckles. “But never mind that. If Rachel says you’re talented, you must be. She has one of the most discerning eyes in the business.” He addresses Rachel, but his sight remains trained on me. “Rachel, honey, if his work is half as good as his face, I have a feeling that your protégé will go far … very far. With a little help from my good old self, of course.”
The rest of the evening passes in a blur. Champagne toasts. People treating me like a person rather than an afterthought. Women standing too close to me, their hands caressing my arm invitingly, whispering seductive words. I’m not invisible anymore.
I hear you’re a photographer. I would love to see your work.
Rachel introducing me to more important and powerful people. More champagne. More caviar. Cuban cigars. Vintage wines.
Who is he? He’s Rachel’s new boy toy. He’s sumptuous. Some people have all the luck. I hear Carl took an interest in him. I wonder if I could introduce him to my Laura—she loves the artsy type. We should invite him to a dinner party.
Whispers and conversations about me. Eyes on me.
My goodness, but he’s breathtaking. Have you ever seen a mouth like his before? No man should be allowed to be that beautiful. I wonder if he’s sleeping with Rachel because of her money? But of course, why else? He probably wants to get ahead. He could use me to get ahead anytime. Elizabeth! He could be your son. Wouldn’t be my first, you know?
For once, I know what it feels like to be standing on the other side—the side where you don’t open doors for people but people open them for you—and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it. I would be lying if I said that I didn’t like how it felt to be someone in a room full of someones when all my life I’ve been invisible to them. Yet there’s something stopping me from losing myself completely in this very vivid dream.
We’re standing on the veranda, watching the stars and getting some fresh air.
“I think you’ve made a good impression.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, especially on Carl. He wants to see some of your work as soon as possible. He’s very interested.”
I take a sip of champagne, shrugging. Rachel removes the crystal flute from my hand and places it on the balustrade. Then, she turns to face me, taking my hand in hers.
“What’s the matter? I thought this was—”
“You thought this was what I wanted?” I stare at the rolling gardens in front of us. “I don’t know, Rachel. This is all fucking great, the party, the champagne, the interest, but I always thought that I would make it on my own. I never imagined I would need to fuck my way to the top.”
I hear her breathe in sharply. “You don’t mean that, Ronan. Those words aren’t worthy of you.”
“I apologize. You didn’t deserve that, but it’s the truth, isn’t it? If we hadn’t fucked, I wouldn’t be standing here right now talking about showing some of my work to Carl Brunswick. I’d still be a nobody who no one gives a shit about.”
“I’d like to call it serendipity,” she adds quietly. “But that isn’t what’s truly bothering you, at least not completely, is it?”
I’m silent for a moment, gazing at the rolling hills in front of us. “It’s just that I always thought that I could make it on my own.”
She grabs my face, making me look at her. “Ronan, listen carefully. As much as Carl loves me, he won’t put his business or his reputation on the line because I’m sleeping with you. If he sees potential in your work, he’ll give you a chance. If he doesn’t, he’ll tell you as much without apology. If you get to the top, it’s not because of me, it’s because of you.”
I open my mouth to tell her that there wouldn’t be a top without her, but she interrupts me. “Stop it, you stubborn man. Listen to what I’m saying. All I’m doing is giving you a little push in the right direction. Your talent will do the rest. Now stop it, and kiss me.” She pulls my face closer to hers, our mouths almost touching. “Kiss me.”
I’m still not convinced, but kiss her anyway. I seek solace from my thoughts in her mouth, needing her body and the relief that she can offer me in this moment. When we break apart, I grab her ass, so soft covered in silk, and grind my growing erection against her cunt. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”
“No, I can’t leave my guests,” she breathes, but her eyes dazed in lust say the contrary.
“I don’t give a fuck. I want you and you want me. Or do you want me to take you right here in front of all your guests?”
Moaning, her breathing accelerates. “You wouldn’t.”
Thankful to be standing in a secluded area, I slide the straps of her dress off of her shoulders, exposing her tits and burying my face in them. “I would, and you know it.”
I suck her nipples, rolling the tip with my tongue, biting, tasting. “Oh God.”
“Save that for later, babe.”
She laughs throatily, and it’s like sex in my ears. “What am I going to do with you, Ronan?”
“Why, fuck me senseless, of course. Now let’s go before we give everyone a show they won’t forget.”
As we’re walking toward her bedroom, she asks, “Who was that girl you were talking to when you first got here?”
Ah. She was paying attention, after all. “No one important.”
Inside her room, I tell her to go sit on the chair next to her bed.
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
I kneel in front of her, pulling down her thong, and push her legs apart.
“Are you enjoying the party, Ronan?” she asks softly, her eyes closing as her head rolls back on
the back of the chair. Her hands go to my hair, pulling me closer.
“Now I am,” I say before I get lost in her taste on my tongue.
THE NEXT MORNING, I call into the office and tell Gina that I won’t be able to go to work today. Not that she needs me since Lawrence is still out of the country, and, apparently, Blaire requested Tony to be her assigned driver in the meantime. Good riddance, I think to myself even though the words sound hollow and untrue.
I come back to bed and watch a naked Rachel smile at me as she tries to cover herself with the sheet. “Did you get in trouble?”
I shake my head, our gazes connecting. “Drop the sheet. Let me see you.”
She blushes, but allows the material to fall like running water down her naked body. Mesmerized, my eyes absorb the way her blonde hair covers her shoulders, the rosy color of her nipples, and the soft curves that make her so damn tempting. With Blaire still fucking with my mind, I seek solace in Rachel’s body.
“Spread your legs,” I murmur raspily.
Bashful and insecure, Rachel opens her legs gently while her eyes burn invitingly. I kneel in front of her, pumping my cock in my hand, wanting her again. “No. My boss is out of town, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“So you’re a chauffeur during the day?” she asks, following the motion of my fist.
“Amongst other things.”
She watches me as I lean over her, taking her hands in mine and putting them above her head. Her pupils widen with excitement as her lips part and I kiss her deeply, roughly. It’s a needy kiss that leaves us both breathless and burning from the inside out. Dipping my head down, I bite her shoulder before capturing her tit in my mouth. She purrs in my ear as I tongue and suck her nipple until it’s painfully hard.
Her back curving, she digs her feet on the mattress. “Please, Ronan …” There’s a blush that’s spreading from the crests of her cheeks down to her chest. I can see the fast rise of her chest and sense her desperation growing.
I smile against her skin. “What do you want?”