by L.H. Cosway
“Shayla and I are getting married. I popped the question last night and she said yes!”
My chest deflated. “You did? That’s great, Dad.” I tried to muster as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could. It wasn’t that I thought Shayla was a bad person, she just wasn’t my sort of person. And maybe I’d gotten so used to having Dad all to myself since I was a kid that I’d become selfish and possessive. He deserved a bit of happiness. Even if that happiness came in the form of Shayla.
“We’ve decided on a spring wedding, so make sure to keep the last week in April free.”
“Wow, that’s soon.”
“When you get to my age, you don’t have time to wait around,” said Dad.
“No, I guess you don’t. Congratulations.”
His voice gentled. “Thank you, sweetheart. Your blessing means a lot to me.”
I hadn’t exactly given him my blessing, but then, how could I refuse it? He was a sixty-one-year-old man. If he wanted to get married, then that was his decision.
Only a couple minutes after I hung up with Dad I got a text from Julian inviting me to a charity event the following night. It was the distraction I needed, and I responded right away that Elodie would be there.
* * *
The charity event was just as fancy as the birthday party at the Savoy. There was so much money in the air you could almost smell it. I often donated to charity, but I guess it took much deeper pockets and a certain type of ego to do it in such a public way.
“How were you even invited here? Are you secretly rich?” I asked Julian as we walked arm in arm about the room.
“I’m comfortable, but by no means rich. Besides,” he said and eyed me, “I’m not the one who owns an entire house in a fancy part of London. But to answer your question, I was invited by an ex-client. She’s the wife of a member of Parliament.”
I ignored his comment about my house because I’d already given him the Grandma story. Instead I asked, “Which member of Parliament?”
“That I can’t divulge. She’s no longer a client, but we’re still friends. She invites me to events like this from time to time. I think she imagines I’ll find high-profile clients by attending.”
“I have no doubt you would. I’ve already spotted several women cast their covetous gaze on you.”
“This is why I like you. You say stuff like ‘covetous gaze’. I thought I was the only one who indulged in wordiness.”
“I just…read a lot,” I said.
He smiled and gestured to a table of drinks. “Want one?”
“I think I’ve drank more champagne since I met you than I have in my entire life.”
His smile turned impish. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He handed me a glass, his eyes sweeping the room. I wondered if he was searching for possible clients. I also wondered if he was seeing anyone at the moment. The thought made my chest burn. Then I thought of my crazy plan to hire him. I’d never have the balls to do it, but even imagining it gave me a thrill. I wanted to so badly.
A few moments of quiet passed before I spoke. “The painting in your bedroom, who’s the woman?”
He glanced at me. “What makes you think I know her?”
“I don’t…I just, there’s something about it that feels personal.”
Julian took a second to answer. “The woman in the picture is another ex-client of mine, actually.”
“Oh?” I was even more curious now.
His face turned thoughtful, like he was remembering. “It was a few years ago. Her name was Zara. When she first came to me, she was terrified of being naked with a man. I taught her that nakedness was nothing to be afraid of. When she finally conquered her fear, I asked an artist friend of mine to paint her. When it was complete, I offered it to her as a gift. She declined and instead requested that I hang it in my room. She felt liberated to know her naked form was out there in the world. Being admired by all the lovers who passed through my bed.”
“Wow, that’s…incredible.” And exactly how many lovers passed through his bed? I coughed, not brave enough to ask the question. “I mean, it’s a big fear to help someone get over. You must be good.” It also reinforced my idea that Julian might be able to help me, too.
His gaze darkened, the look in his eye making my stomach flip. “Better than you know,” he said huskily.
I looked away. There was too much intensity in him now. I wondered if he did it intentionally, if he wanted me to feel this way, or if it was simply natural. Some people didn’t have to try to seduce. They just did. It was as easy as breathing.
“So, how did everything go with Val after I left the other night?”
He nudged my shoulder. “Why Elodie, are you fishing for sexy details?”
I grinned, while on the inside the small bit of jealousy I felt expanded. “I might be.”
“Well, I wish I had a story to tell. Unfortunately, she left soon after you. I suspect she might’ve gone back to Keith’s hotel with him.”
Why did this news relieve me so much? Oh right, because I fancied the pants off Julian.
I sighed. “How easily some people’s affections are swayed.”
“Quite,” Julian agreed. “Now I better start introducing you to people before the bidding begins.”
He swept me through the room, and just like last time I made the acquaintance of dozens of important and wealthy people. Some of them I recognised from television. It was oddly sobering to see them in a non-airbrushed reality. Plus, with Elodie as my mask, I wasn’t intimidated.
I recognised Branson and Krystyna Sutton when they approached. Krystyna wore a long, colourful sequins dress that gave the effect of stained glass. It was one of the most unique gowns I’d ever seen. She approached gracefully, her smile practiced and demure.
“Elodie,” she greeted, then turned to my companion. “Julian. What a wonderful pleasure to see you both again.”
“Likewise. Elodie and I had a wonderful time at your party last week.”
“Indeed. I was sad we didn’t get to spend more time together,” Krystyna went on, her husband silent and watchful by her side. Now that I studied him, there was something intense about Branson. He didn’t say much, but he watched you like a hawk. I wasn’t sure if it made him intriguing or scary. I guess it took a unique sort of person to be a race car driver.
“I was actually hoping to see you here,” Krystyna said. “I have an invitation for you. We’re throwing a party at our house next weekend and I’d love for you both to come.”
A party at their house? Did she mean one of their sex parties? Nerves fluttered in my belly while Julian politely accepted the invitation. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Wait, what? I couldn’t go to a party like that. I just…the very idea had me completely flustered and coming out in hives.
She removed a small envelope from her purse and slid it into the pocket of his suit jacket. “See you soon,” she purred before she and her husband moved on.
A beat of silence passed as I blinked at their retreating forms. “Well,” I breathed.
Julian let out a quiet chuckle and turned to face me, his voice low. “Can you effing believe that?”
I shook my head, flabbergasted. “Did we just get invited to a celebrity swingers party?”
His smile was so wide, so handsome. “You bet your arse we did.”
“Fuck.” It was a rare occasion that I swore, but this certainly called for it.
Julian gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Fuck indeed, my dear Elodie. Fuck indeed.”
Chapter Twelve
Julian
“You’re quiet tonight,” Cathy commented.
We were at a rooftop bar, sipping cocktails, or well, mocktails in my case. I’d chosen the location specifically because there was a hotel below and I knew Cathy felt ready to take the next step with me. The problem was, I didn’t feel ready, or perhaps ‘ready’ wasn’t the right word. I just wasn’t my usual self. On our previous dates, I’d enjoyed her company, an
d she was as lovely as always.
The issue lay solely on my doorstep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellen. She was in my thoughts, and when I was fixated on one woman, it was difficult to put my all into another.
“I apologise,” I said, turning to my date. “I’ve been distracted.”
She lightly touched my wrist, shifting closer in her seat. “Something on your mind?”
Not something, someone.
I sipped my drink. “You could say that.”
Her thumb brushed lightly back and forth. “Feel free to unload on me. I’m a divorce lawyer,” she gave a soft laugh. “I often have to double as a client’s therapist.”
I shook my head. “This date is for you. If anything, you should be unloading on me.”
“Well, I deleted my Facebook account several weeks ago, so I can no longer spy on my ex-husband and stress about all the floozies he posts photos with, which means I don’t have much to complain about these days.”
I blew out a breath. It would be unprofessional of me to talk about Ellen while I was working. But I really could use some perspective and Cathy was a wise lady. I glanced at her, her understated beauty, soft and feminine, her eyes kind and warm.
I should want to peel back her layers, see how she looked when she came, hear the noises she made. Unfortunately, my curiosity was all for someone else. That growing emptiness I’d felt before I met Ellen had started to shrink. Her presence in my life filled it.
“I made a new friend and I’ve been thinking about her a lot,” I confessed.
Cathy studied me, eyes gentle, but I did see a flicker of disappointment. It was understandable. You didn’t want the person you were with to be preoccupied with another. “You like her,” she surmised.
“Yes, but there’s more. She’s not at all what I first imagined her to be.”
She sat back and fiddled with her delicate gold bracelet. “Sometimes people can surprise us. One of my closest friends, when I first met her, I thought she was a right cow. It was only later that I realised what a great person she was. It’s those sorts of people, the ones who blindside us, who are unexpected, that often turn out to have the greatest impact on our lives.”
“I’m not accustomed to being so…consumed by someone.”
Cathy eyed me and lifted her glass. “No, I imagine it’s others who become consumed by you.”
I gave a soft smile. “You overestimate my charms.”
She shook her head. “I disagree. You’re one of a kind, Julian. If this woman doesn’t see that, then she doesn’t deserve you.”
Was that what I wanted? To be with Ellen romantically? It was a new sensation for me to feel a paternal protectiveness for someone, while at the same time finding them captivating, both spiritually and physically. Normally, it was one or the other. I wanted to protect someone platonically, like I did with Rose, or I wanted to sleep with them, get lost in a sexual affair.
Better that than ever be alone with my own thoughts.
With Ellen, it was a new mixture of both. I wanted to protect her as she discovered the world as Elodie, but I also wanted to shag her senseless.
Later on, Cathy and I parted ways. There was no sense trying to force things when they didn’t feel natural. Besides, we could try again once I got out of my Ellen fixation.
The weekend rolled in quickly and I was to escort her to the Suttons’ house party. I read the invitation for the umpteenth time.
You are cordially invited to the residence of
Branson and Krystyna Sutton for midnight supper.
Please arrive at 11:30 pm sharp.
No mobile phones or recording devices permitted.
I chuckled and decided I needed to add “midnight supper” to my repertoire of euphemisms. I was still trying to get my head around how we were even invited. Invites were reserved solely for celebrities, people in the public eye, and their companions. Elodie and I were neither, which begged the question, why had we been welcomed into the circle of trust?
I thought perhaps their group was getting a little stale, too many of the same people. What better way to spice things up than with two attractive and interesting strangers? When Elodie and I were together, we attracted attention. We were a potent combination. Krystyna had obviously seen that and wanted to get to know us better, as it were.
I wondered if Ellen was still meeting Suze on Tuesday mornings, but I’d purposely stayed away. She was worried about her true identity being discovered, and I didn’t want to make her nervous by showing up.
I texted her the details for the night ahead and got a response not long after.
Ellen: It starts at 11:30 pm? Why can’t people do things at normal hours anymore?
A smile curved my lips as I typed a reply.
Julian: You can’t very well have midnight supper at 7 pm, now can you?
Ellen: I still think it’s ridiculous. Who has the energy for a sex party at that time of night?
Ellen: Also, I don’t know what to wear.
Julian: Surprise me.
Ellen: Okay, I think I have a couple of dresses that might work.
A few minutes later I received another text.
Ellen: Awkward question but…are you planning on having sex with anyone at this party?
I paused, my finger hovering over the screen as I considered my answer. The only person I was interested in having sex with these days was her, but I couldn’t very well say that. Instead, I replied evasively.
Julian: I believe that’s the point.
Ellen: Okay.
Julian: Would you prefer it if I didn’t?
Ellen: I just won’t know what to do if you go off with someone. I’ll be standing there like a spare tit.
Julian: In that case, I’ll make you a promise. I won’t “go off with someone” unless you are already otherwise engaged. Wouldn’t want to make a tit of you ;-)
Ellen: You should’ve heard the snort I just made.
I grinned and put my phone away. When I arrived to pick her up, she answered the door in a long, flower print dressing gown, the sort an octogenarian might wear. Her makeup was done, but other than that she wasn’t anywhere near ready.
“I need your help. I’m freaking out a little,” she admitted as I followed her upstairs to her bedroom. Laid out on the bed were several outfits. I knew as soon as I clapped eyes on the deep purple dress that it was the one she should wear tonight. It would look perfect against her creamy skin.
I lifted the dress and handed it to her. “This one.”
Her mouth opened. “How did you know what I was going to ask?”
“It wasn’t too hard to guess, what with you being in that very handsome dressing gown,” I teased.
She scowled, lips twitching as she replied, “It might not be very sexy but it’s the most comfortable thing I own, so I don’t care if you’re judging me right now.”
I only smirked in reply and her expression turned anxious again. “Julian?”
“Yes, Ellen?”
She worried her lip. “I’ve been wondering if maybe I shouldn’t go to this party.”
“Why not?” I frowned.
“Well, I know nothing about these sorts of things. I’m going to be completely out of my depth,” she explained, her voice growing shaky.
I came forward and took both her hands in mine, my voice low and soothing. “I promise I won’t let anything happen that you’re not comfortable with.”
She took a deep breath, her eyes moving back and forth between mine as though deciding if she should trust me. “Okay,” she finally whispered.
I gave a tender smile. “Just think of me as your chaperone. If any gentlemen are too forward, I’ll intervene with my very best disapproving schoolmarm glare.”
Now she chuckled. “I know you’re joking, but it would actually make me feel so much better if you did.”
My expression was gentle as I squeezed her hands before letting them go. “You have nothing to worry about tonight. I’ll be right there with
you the whole time.”
Ellen appeared relieved. She had no clue that I was the one she should be wary of, what with these lustful feelings I’d been having.
She took the dress and went inside the bathroom to change. On a shelf, I noticed several dog-eared copies of the Sasha Orlando books. They had colour coded tabs and sticky notes protruding from the spine. Well, there you had it. My theory that she was stealing anecdotes from the books was correct. I tried not to be too crestfallen.
When she emerged, I forgot all about her plagiarism, because my breath left me. The dress was like a second skin. It moulded to every inch of her body, the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts. Her bra must’ve been thin because I was certain I could see a hint of her pert nipples peeking through. She hadn’t put her green contacts in, nor was she wearing her wig. Her golden-brown curls hung long around her shoulders, her brown eyes big and fathomless.
“How do I look? I’m not wearing my glasses, so I can’t see your expression. Your face is just a blur right now.”
Without thinking, I stepped forward, placed a hand on her delicate shoulder and ran it down her arm. Her skin was cool and soft. For a second, I had an urge to throw her down on the bed, tear off that sexy dress and have my way with her.
But I resisted. After her bout of nerves just a few minutes ago, she might have a panic attack of epic proportions if I did that.
“You’re breathtaking,” I whispered and her eyes grew larger. A small, surprised breath escaped her and she blinked.
“I was aiming for passable, but breathtaking works t-too,” she said, seeming nervous at my proximity. Her attention lingered on my throat before rising to meet my eyes. I gazed down at her, battling an inner struggle to kiss her. In a short time, we’d grown close, but it felt longer to me since I’d spent weeks watching her pretend to be Elodie at the café.
I now realised that it wasn’t just the outlandishness of Elodie that drew me in, it was Ellen herself. It was the aura that surrounded her.