“This probably isn’t sold on the shelves at Kroger. Hugo and I have it imported specially a couple of times a year. I’m glad you like it.” She leaned back in her chair, glass still in her hand. “Before we start looking at furniture, what the hell is going on between you and my brother?”
I bit my bottom lip and frowned at her, not knowing what to give for an answer. She already reprimanded me when she thought I was sleeping with him before Vegas. Is there any way she knew we’d slept together in Vegas?
“I’ve been busy, he’s been busy, since we got back from Las Vegas.” I tried to change the subject. “Isn’t he dressing much better?”
“Sure, he looks incredibly foppish. But he looks more unhappy now than he did when he looked like a caveman. I’d hoped that getting him out, giving him a change of scenery, and a change of style, would change his attitude toward life.”
“Sorry I couldn’t help you with that, but he does look good.” I opened my eyes wide and wiggled my brows.
“But you two seem to get along so well, and now you seem at odds. Did something happen in Vegas?”
Again, I raised my brows, but this time I added a shrug. “He fired me,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
This statement had Stella leaning forward in her chair, resting her elbows on her desk. “What the hell? Why did he fire you? What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. We went to Aria, I went shopping for him, he tried on and purchased the clothes he liked, we had dinner, and then we came home.”
Stella’s whole body shook as she laughed. “That is such bullshit. You were there for what two or three days? Something happened. The tension between you is like…oh my fucking God…it’s like two people seeing each other after a bad one-night stand.” Stella got up and paced behind her desk.
“He didn’t fire me because we had a one-night stand, Stella. And I’m not discussing Hugo’s sex life, or mine, with you at this point.” Now, I chugged the rest of the wine, then reached for the bottle to refill my glass.
While Stella paced the floor behind her desk, I also refilled her glass.
“Fine, so it wasn’t a one-night stand, it was a two-night stand. Either way, you two did the dirty deed, and you knew you shouldn’t have. Now, back to reality, and neither one of you knows how to handle it.” I wanted to tell her I thought it was more than just a fling, but what did I know about the rich and how they handled relationships with the lower class?
I slunk down in my chair, holding my wine glass with both hands, and barely above a whisper said, “And there’s the small matter of Kelsey being at the cottage the moment we got home.”
Stella turned on me. “Damn, that Kelsey has great timing, doesn’t she?”
I had nothing to say to that, so I didn’t.
“I can tell you this: I never expected to see that woman standing next to Hugo again. And then to see them in the office, her sporting that engagement ring, I wanted to puke. But of course, I didn’t want to cause a scene.”
Now I sat up in my chair, placing my glass of wine on the desk. “I thought you liked Kelsey. Didn’t you think she was good for Hugo?”
Stella relaxed a bit and came back to her desk to sit down. “Kelsey has been a part of our lives since we were little kids. There’re things I know about her, that Hugo will never know. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you those things. But I never thought that her getting a glimpse of him at the gala was going to cause her to step back into his life.”
“What did you think was going to happen?” I wasn’t really sure I wanted the answer.
“Usually, at these things, Kelsey isn’t even around. She scurries around like a little house mouse, making sure everything is going smoothly and barely shows her face where the guests can see her. She makes sure she gets her photo op, so everyone knows what a terrific philanthropist she is, then disappears again. I never thought Hugo would see her. And then when he did, he took off like a bat out of hell, and you were driving the Batmobile.”
I smiled at the Batmobile comment. I was there for him, just like Batman and Robin.
“When he left, I thought that was that. I didn’t even know that Kelsey had seen him. And now this.” Stella took a long sip of her wine. “Why the hell did you sleep with my brother?”
I shook my head. “I’m so sorry, Stella. If you want to tear up the lease, I understand. I’ll just be on my way and get out of your lives.”
Stella waved her hands. “No, no, no, that’s not what I’m saying. I think you and Hugo are cute together. But you have to understand, Hugo and I come from a world where people don’t fall in love with us just for us. When it was Kelsey, she’d known us forever, and her family has money. Or had money, anyway.”
Had money? This statement stopped my breath.
“What do you mean, had money?” As if it was any of my business.
“I’m sorry, Maisy, it’s not my story to tell.”
“Does Hugo know?” Again, as if it was any of my business.
“Hugo and I don’t discuss Kelsey, because it usually ends up in a fight. So I’m not sure how much he knows about Kelsey and her family, and it’s not my job to tell him.” She stared down at her wine glass as she swirled the liquid in a counter clockwise motion.
I wasn’t Robin to his Batman, I had to remind myself. It wasn’t my job to save Hugo, or for him to save me. Hugo was a big boy, and if Kelsey was marrying him for his money, that was his problem. I just hoped he was smart enough to have her sign a prenuptial agreement. No way in hell was I going to have this discussion with Stella.
“Hugo fired me because he said he didn’t want to have a relationship with one of his employees. Yes, we had sex. Yes, it was fun. But it’s over. He forgot about me the moment he saw Kelsey sitting on the porch at the cottage. And I’m okay with that, because I’m not in love with him. He was just my client, and I overstepped the line. We both did. Now, if you’re not kicking me out of the office space, let’s forget about me and Hugo and start looking at furniture. What do you say?”
“Sounds good. I try to stay out of my brother’s personal life, but he’s my brother, and I hate to see him get hurt. And I know Kelsey being back in his life can’t be a good thing.”
“Alrighty then, the furniture?”
Stella grabbed her glass and what was left of the bottle of wine and walked across to the other side of her office. There, she sat on the yellow leather sofa and opened a thick binder that had been sitting on the coffee table. “This might take a while, there’s a lot to choose from.”
I stood and walked over to the couch, sitting next to Stella. “You’re not kidding. Where do you think we should start?”
“Let’s get you a desk and the flat screen TV first, then we’ll work on the seating arrangement in the lounge area. Is there a specific place you want to get your clothing racks, or would you like to purchase them from my warehouse?”
I stared openly at Stella. My chin dropped. “Is there anything you and Hugo don’t have your fingers in?”
Stella chuckled, “We stay very busy. Being diversified is key to being and staying rich.” She elbowed me.
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I flipped through the front pages of the catalog.
“You know what I said about it being hard for Hugo and me to find someone who loves us for us? I wasn’t kidding. Even the rich want to be richer, and so they marry a rich person. I can’t tell you of a single relationship I’ve been in in the last five years that hasn’t been about money.”
I felt something squeeze my heart. I wondered if she was telling me this for her, or Hugo. Because I could care less if Hugo really was a homeless man. No, wait, I wouldn’t be attracted to him if he was homeless. You know, the smell and all. Did that make me heartless? Although, if he looks like he does now, I might entertain the idea of giving him a home.
“The people you’ve seen me with, the football players, the social elite, I have fun with them and go to parties with them, but I
know that even though I’m a shit ton of fun to be around, they like that I pick up the tab. And they like the thousand dollar bottles of wine they wouldn’t normally purchase, or ever get a chance to drink. Hell, I have bottles of wine that I’ve paid half a million dollars for. But I don’t tell them that. They already know I’m rich, they don’t need to know exactly how rich.”
“I guess it’s like being a movie star. You’re always wondering if people are hanging around you because they like you and want to get to know you, for you, or because they want to be seen with you and get something from you.” I flipped to another page in the catalog, not able to look at Stella as we had this conversation. “When I worked in Southern California, I did my best not to name drop. First, because it was unprofessional, unless I had permission, and second, because I felt like Marla did enough name dropping for the both of us.”
“That Marla, she’s a peach, isn’t she? I specifically asked her not to tell people she was my stylist and ended up seeing my name in association with her in at least a dozen places. And then when I started dressing myself, she took credit for that, too.”
I looked up, surprised at her admission.
“And believe me, your boyfriend—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” I reminded her.
“Isn’t the only taken man she’s fucked. She seems to like her men more when they belong to someone else.”
I sucked in a breath that caught halfway down and nearly choked. Did I dare pursue this line of conversation? Did I dare ask the question that came out of my mouth next?
“Is that what the bad blood between you and Marla is? She had sex with someone you were dating?” I stopped turning the page midway and it hung in the air, just like the question I’d asked.
Stella leaned back on the couch, no longer interested in the catalog. “So, is being a stylist kind of like being a therapist? There’s this Hippocratic oath that you have to do what’s best for me, and that what’s said between us stays between us? Only in a non- life saving way?”
I wanted to know so badly, that I said, “Hippocratic oath and all. In a lifestyle saving, not lifesaving way.”
“It’s worse than that. I was dating her ex-husband. They’d been divorced for at least five years, and Marla had taken him for half of his wealth, which didn’t even put a dent. I guess Aaron and I had been dating for six months when I realized who his ex-wife was. Or more like, she realized I was dating her ex-husband. That’s when Marla started trashing me publicly, making up as many stories as she could.”
I whistled. “Not exactly the way I thought you’d tell it.” Then I thought about it, “You lived in LA?”
“Yes and no. I traveled back and forth on a project I was working on for the company.”
“Oh, I guess I didn’t know. I’m so sorry you had to cross paths with Marla.”
Stella laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I could give a rat’s ass what Marla has to say about me or my fashion style. The problem was, she divorced this man and wanted nothing to do with him. For five years, she considered him the bane of her existence. Believe me, I heard the stories when she’d had one too many cosmos. Then suddenly, one of the richest women in the United States is dating him and she wants him back.”
“But they never got back together. I can’t remember her ever saying anything nice about Aaron.”
Stella filled both of our glasses once again. After taking one more long sip, she said, “Marla didn’t love Aaron. She just wanted his money. No offense, but she made you look rich when she met Aaron. She knew nothing about style or fashion. And believe me she’s living proof that money does not buy you class. Hell, you have more class in the lashes of your left eye, than Marla has in her stick-thin boy body. And her checking account can run circles around yours, I’m sure.”
Ouch. That one hurt. I sipped my wine, but said nothing, hoping she’d continue.
“I’m pretty sure she was just pissed that one of her clients was dating her ex-husband.” Stella played with the rim of her crystal wine glass, making a ringing sound with her finger. “I loved him, you know. At the time, we were equals. Even with all of the money that he was paying Marla for alimony, it was a drop in the bucket. I was sure we’d marry.”
And then she stopped. She stopped talking, she didn’t drink. She just stared out the large windows toward the skyline.
“What happened?”
I could hear Stella breathing, but she didn’t respond right away. As if mustering the strength to tell the story. “He cheated on me. With her. And then he left me, saying they were getting back together, that she’d been the only woman he’d ever really loved.”
Exactly what would have happened if Hugo and I’d had time to nurture a relationship. Stella sat there telling me the story of what could have been with Hugo and me.
“But that didn’t happen,” I protested. “They didn’t get back together.”
Suddenly, Stella flipped through the pages of the catalog at a fevered pace, not really looking at anything. “You’re right, it didn’t happen. Marla only lured him back to get him away from me. And as soon as she had him, she took him for a few million more, then told him she never wanted to see him again.”
Under my breath, I said, “C U next Tuesday.” A word I couldn’t bring myself to actually say.
“You’re goddamn right. Heartless, classless, selfish. I had already fired her as my stylist, but she found ways to make sure that I saw her and Aaron together. Then Aaron came crawling back to me, telling me what a huge mistake he’d made.”
I wondered if that would be what happened when Hugo found out Kelsey’s family no longer had money. That she had come back to him only because she needed him now. Not because she wanted him. My heartfelt squeezed just a little more.
“What did you say when he came back?”
Stella smiled. This was a genuine Stella smile, all teeth, wrinkled cheeks, all the way to the eyes. “I explained to him, very coolly, that it was, in fact, I who made the mistake. And that was the last time I saw him.”
“I’m so sorry. And then here I show up in your life, a former Marla Townsend employee, and dredge up all those horrid memories.”
Stella patted me on the back. “I haven’t thought about Marla in years. Haven’t thought about Aaron in forever. Having you as my stylist and mentioning you for the rags has been great fun. And the fact that you turned out to be a really nice person on top of it, is only icing on the cake.”
“Were you really in love with him?”
She frowned. “In hindsight, I don’t know. I think I was just happy that he loved me for me, and not for my money.”
“And how do you know that?” Not a question I’d ever have to worry about, but it would be interesting to know.
“It never fails. I find someone, I think they have plenty of money, and we have a great time together. Just as I start falling for them, little things come up. ‘Oh, look at this gorgeous castle in England that’s for sale,’or ‘I can’t believe how I’ve run up my credit cards to the limit,’ or ‘What do you say to an apartment in New York City?’ And this is all before we profess our undying love to each other.”
“How do you know that they weren’t planning to purchase those items with their own money?” I knew it was a stupid question before the words were out of my mouth.
“Really? I have one hundred times the money they have, and they’re complaining about paying their credit card bills. I don’t even have credit cards. I mean, I don’t need them. I have American Express and a Visa or MasterCard, but that’s only because I don’t like carrying cash. My bills get paid every month, and I don’t even know if I have a credit limit. The guy who wanted the place in New York City, it was a ten-million-dollar apartment. That guy had just been let go from the Texas Rangers.”
I pierced my lips together, not being able to understand the world that she came from. “I can’t even imagine. How on Earth do you find someone who loves you, for you?”
“When you figure out t
hat secret, let me know. When your face is plastered all over the gossip rags, like Paris Hilton, it’s hard to even find a rich man who would love me for me. So I stay content with having a good time for now. Who wants to be tied down in their twenties anyway?” She flipped back to the beginning of the catalog. “Enough with the depressing. Let’s get you some furniture.”
If I learned anything in my short time on earth, money may buy many things and contentment, but not true happiness and definitely not love.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Stella and I had picked out all of the furniture and she arranged to have it delivered to my new space, it was eight o’clock. She got the warehouse workers to deliver the furniture the next morning, instead of that night. No way was she going to pay the kind of overtime the union was requesting.
I’d gone to bed early after making arrangements with Orlean for an early morning meeting before heading to Kelsey’s house. We’d gone over the details of the dresses, and it turned out all of the designers would bust their asses and drop whatever they were working on to get Kelsey’s dress done in time.
By the time Orlean and I arrived at Kelsey’s place, I’d already told her about the possible financial problems the parents might be facing.
Before Orlean opened the passenger door of Hugo’s SUV, she said, “It’s a good thing she’s marrying Hugo, so you don’t have to worry about how we’re getting paid.”
“The bride’s family usually pays for all of the wedding expenses. The groom’s family only pays for the rehearsal dinner, and sometimes honeymoon.” I informed her. But if Kelsey had been honest and told Hugo about her family’s money woes, maybe he was picking up the entire tab.
She opened the door and stepped out of the car. Then she opened the back door and pulled out the newly designed portfolio we’d put together. We decided to present her with all of the wedding dress designs, minus the designers' names. This would give Kelsey a chance to pick the dress without worrying about the designer.
Mine (Dressing a Billionaire Book 3): A Romantic Comedy Page 8