by T. K. Leigh
“Thank you, Camille.”
“Of course, dear.” She meets my eyes in the mirror as she smiles at me in adoration, like a mother would a child. Her excitement strikes me as odd. She knows the truth of what’s going on. So why is she acting as if I’m about to leave for a ball to meet Prince Charming?
“Well…” She steps away, grabbing the shoes Dana selected to go with the gown, placing them in front of me. I slide them on, trying not to think about the fact that my entire ensemble probably costs more than my college education. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer. He’s already on the brink of exploding in anticipation.”
“He is?”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” She hurries out of my room, striding down the hallway. I practically have to run to catch up. “You’re a beautiful, charming, enigmatic woman he appears to be quite taken with.”
“You and I both know appearances can be deceiving.” I give her a knowing look, silently reminding her this isn’t real. Reminding myself of that fact at the same time.
“They certainly can be. In more ways than you think. Sometimes we act a certain way because it’s all we know, because we believe it’s the only thing that can protect us.” She glances at me, her eyebrows raised.
I slow my steps, my mind racing with questions. It’s obvious she knows something.
“Camille!” I call out, running toward her. When I reach her, I ask, “How long have you known Ju— Mr. Gage?”
She stops walking, turning to face me. “Since he first met Mr. Price, God rest his soul.”
“You worked for him?”
“I did. Started as a housekeeper before he made me his head of household.”
I chew on my lower lip, then quickly release it, not wanting to smudge my lipstick, although I’m confident this stuff could survive the nuclear winter.
“And when did Julian enter the picture?”
She exhales and stares into the distance, searching her memory before looking back at me. “Oh, over twenty years ago now. Mr. Price became like a father to Mr. Gage. And he was the son Mr. Price’s own sons refused to be. At first, I was skeptical about Mr. Gage’s intentions. I guess a part of me thought he was just someone else who wanted to prey on a wealthy, lonely man. I’m normally not one to judge or assume, but when you see a boy of barely sixteen, who looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in ages, befriend an older man, you assume the worst. But Julian proved me wrong, proved us all wrong.”
She smiles warmly before continuing down the hallway. My brain buzzes with even more questions. Julian Gage is a puzzle I’m eager to solve.
Bunching the fabric of my skirt in my hands, I walk quickly, following her down the stairs. Once we enter the living room, she faces me, doing one last check of my dress to make sure everything’s in place.
As she brushes away a thread, I whisper, “Where did he get the scars on his abdomen?”
She stiffens, inhaling a sharp breath. When she meets my pleading eyes, she slowly shakes her head, conflicted. “Do you believe in soul mates, Guinevere?”
“You can just call me Evie. And yes.” I nod. “I did at one point.”
“I do, as well, but not like most people. I like to think soul mates can include more than just a romantic relationship. I truly believe Mr. Price and Mr. Gage were soul mates. They were both in need of a certain kind of companionship, and they found it in each other.” She clutches my hands in hers. “Julian hasn’t had the easiest life. There’s a darkness that continues to hang over him. Just… Be patient with him. He’ll come around.” She passes me a reassuring look before turning to walk out of the room.
“But I don’t want him to come around.” I spin to face her, then lower my voice. “This isn’t real.”
She glances over her shoulder, smiling. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, dear.”
I open my mouth, about to argue my point further, when Julian rounds the corner, coming to a stop the instant he sees me standing in front of the large windows overlooking the ocean. The two-day scruff he’s been sporting is gone, his face clean-shaven. His hair’s wayward in a sexy sort of way, curling slightly over the collar of his jacket. And his tux… It should be a crime for a man to look this exquisite without being naked. The lines accent his chiseled physique in a way that almost makes me never want to see him with his shirt off again.
Almost.
I’m not that much of a sadist.
I didn’t count on missing him as much as I did throughout the day. I shouldn’t have longed for his touch, craved his scent, considering the brush-off he gave me last night. I tried to blame it on the fact that I spent the afternoon at the spa with Sadie where we talked with a few other women about my whirlwind romance with Julian. Some of the women, whom I expected to greet me with cold shoulders and upturned noses, ended up gushing over what they viewed to be a real-life Cinderella story, one I could sense they secretly wished for themselves.
“Guinevere…,” Julian exhales, his gaze holding steady with mine, his pupils dilating. No one’s ever admired me the way Julian does, even when I’m dressed more casually. No one’s ever made me feel so beautiful.
Emboldened, I twirl, the layers of the skirt flaring around me as I show off for him.
“I stand corrected.”
I stop spinning. “Regarding?” I arch a brow.
With determination, he strides toward me. In an instant, his hand palms my lower back, pressing my body to his. I wonder if this is what Cinderella felt like. If she struggled against hope, knowing once the clock struck midnight she’d have to go back to her ordinary life. Just like I’ll be forced to return to the pieces of my life once the summer’s over. But that didn’t stop her from dancing, from dreaming, from living. Why can’t I do the same thing?
Because life isn’t a fairy tale. If you wake up missing a shoe, you’re not a princess. You simply drank too much. There won’t be a prince showing up on my doorstep, a glass slipper in hand, promising to make all my dreams come true. This is the real world, and in the real world, I have to chase my dreams myself.
“Dana.”
“Dana?”
“She doesn’t just deserve a raise. She deserves everything she could ever want.”
He links his hand with mine and spins me around, his motions graceful as he soaks me in. I’m so swept up in this moment, I don’t even have to concentrate on maintaining my balance or not tripping over my own feet, as I’m sometimes prone to do. Under Julian’s watchful gaze, I feel like I’m flying.
“You look…” He stops twirling me, then brings my body back to his. One hand remains clasped with mine as the other returns to my back. He begins swaying to no music at all, except the song in our heads. And I hear it. It’s low and struggling to break through the other noise, but it’s there. “You are stunning, Guinevere.” The hunger in his gaze softens as he lowers his voice. It’s gentle, benevolent, earnest. “I won’t be able to leave you alone for a second tonight, not with you looking like this.” He leans in, his breath warming my neck. “I won’t want to leave you alone for a second.”
I do everything to keep my composure. Inside, I want to scream at how perfect Julian can be when he wants. He seems to always know exactly what to say so I’ll never want to leave his side. I’m still supposed to be heartbroken over Trevor. But in the span of only a few days, Julian’s completely endeared me to him. What will he do by the end of the summer?
Placing my hand on his chest, I push against him, needing to put a little distance between us for my own sanity.
“We should go. We don’t want to be late, do we?”
He stares at me for a moment. I notice the subtlest hint of his shoulders dropping at the loss of contact. Or perhaps I simply imagine it, my desperation for him to feel this growing connection between us forcing me to see things that aren’t real. Then he fixes his expression, that flirtatious smirk I remember from the first time I saw him crossing his mouth.
“I suppose that would be a bad thing.” He holds h
is elbow out for me to place my arm through. “Come on, Princess. Time to get you to the ball.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
During my first month at the magazine, Viv insisted I attend the opening of an art installation at an eclectic little gallery in SoHo. It was the most upscale event I’d ever attended. Waitstaff in tails and gloves. Men in beautiful suits. Women in gorgeous gowns. And Champagne flowing like it grew on trees, which I suppose one could argue it does, since grapes are grown on vines and Champagne comes from grapes.
Nevertheless, that gallery opening was mere child’s play compared to the posh and glamour of the annual Red, White, and Blue Gala. Anyone who’s anyone is here. And if you don’t get an invitation, you’re not someone worth knowing.
Which is why my already antsy nerves are even more so, considering the importance of tonight, especially for Julian. As the newcomer to this elite group, all eyes will be on me. Because of that, I need to do everything in my power not to embarrass him. As long as there’s not a pool nearby, I think I’ll be okay.
The gentle sounds of a jazz band fill the air as Julian leads me through the foyer of a magnificent home situated on the beach. I expected this to take place at a function hall, but I’ve once again been proven wrong. Why rent a hall when you can show off the grandeur of your home in front of several hundred of your closest friends? That’s all life in the Hamptons seems to be. One giant competition. And this place is the crown jewel. It’s like a mansion straight from the Gilded Age. Lush tapestries. Grand staircases. Painted ceilings. Now I really do feel like Cinderella.
We follow the flow of guests, smiling polite hellos every few feet before emerging into a large ball room. Waitstaff are in abundance, circling the room, carrying trays of Champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I tilt my head back, admiring the intricate detailing on the ceiling.
“It’s like the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles.”
“La Gallérie des Glaces,” Julian says in the perfect French accent. “You’ve been?”
I look back to him, laughing slightly. “No. I’ve never been out of the country. But I’ve always dreamed of visiting Europe, particularly Paris.”
“You’ve never traveled abroad?” He sounds genuinely surprised by this fact. I suppose in his circles, it’s an odd occurrence.
“Can’t say as I have.”
“You were with Trevor for twelve years and he never took you?”
I open my mouth to defend him, but Julian interrupts me before I can utter a word.
“You can’t tell me he didn’t have the money, because I know what that firm pays their attorneys. He could have afforded it.”
My eyes shift nervously around the room. Have I really been so blind as to overlook so many of Trevor’s shortcomings? “We’ve both been so busy,” I respond, but my words lack any conviction.
“You need to go to Paris. Everyone should experience the city once in their lives. There’s nothing like it anywhere else in the world.” The more he speaks, the more excited he becomes. There’s a boyish gleam in his eyes as his obvious adoration for the City of Lights shines through. “When the summer is over, I’ll take—”
I quickly hold up my hand. “Don’t.”
He scrunches his forehead, perplexed by my sudden change in demeanor. “But—”
“No.” I lean toward him, my voice nothing more than a low whisper. “I can pretend to be your girlfriend all summer. I’ve agreed to that much. But I won’t do the fantasy game with you. I won’t have you making me promises you have no intention of fulfilling.”
“Who said I have no intention of following through?”
“Me. That’s who. You’re so accustomed to being able to just hop on a chartered jet and fly off to Paris for lunch. That’s not my reality. That will never be my reality. It’s already difficult to remain grounded when I’m surrounded by all this.” I wave my hand around. “I don’t need you making this any harder than it has to be.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting against the lump in my throat. I wish I hadn’t revealed this vulnerability to him, but this is challenging enough. The more I remind myself that this is nothing more than a fantasy, the easier it will be when the dream ends.
“Guinevere, I…” He shakes his head, running a light finger down the curve of my face before cupping my cheeks in his hands. He rests his forehead against mine. It’s such a tender moment, one I wish were real. “I’m sorry. I guess I got swept up in the moment. I didn’t realize…”
“It’s okay. But I feel like some lines have been crossed that I may not have originally anticipated. Don’t get me wrong,” I add quickly. “The past few days have been great. Better than great. And you’ve been…great.” I laugh. “Better than great.” My eyes turn back to his, serious again. “And that’s why I don’t want to blur the lines anymore. It will only set ourselves up for failure. At least me. Because, at the end of the summer, you’ll walk away without a single look back, and I’ll still be picking up the pieces of a life I don’t even recognize right now. Years down the road, we’ll both remember this summer and smile. You from your palace overlooking Central Park, and me from whatever apartment I can afford, which will probably be somewhere in New Rochelle. Hell, one day, maybe I’ll be able to tell my kids about the summer I experienced a real-life fairy tale. But that’s all this is. Just a fairy tale. Not real life.”
He opens his mouth, his expression pensive as he gazes at me. I can almost sense him wanting to tell me I’m wrong, that the fairy tale can be real. That this doesn’t have to end after the summer. Instead, he blows out a long breath, nodding.
“I can respect that. I know what it’s like to be surrounded by constant disappointment. I won’t lead you on. No more fantasies.”
“No more fantasies,” I repeat, a pang in my heart at the idea.
“No more fantasies,” he says once more, then pulls back, smiling a small smile. We return our attention to the party, everyone oblivious to our emotional exchange. Resuming the roles we’re here to play, he links his hand with mine. When a waiter carrying a tray of Champagne passes, Julian swipes two flutes, handing me one.
“For the record…” He lifts his glass and I do the same. “I know you’ll soon meet someone who will give you the trip to Paris you deserve.” He sips the effervescent liquid, his eyes unwavering as they remain glued to mine.
“I hope so,” I murmur absent-mindedly.
“Evie!” an excited voice exclaims as I’m about to take a sip.
I search for its source, seeing Sadie and Christopher gliding toward us. That’s exactly what it looks like. As if Sadie is walking on air, everything about her poised and put-together. She looks as stunning as I expected she would, wearing a pale white silk gown that hugs her slender frame. Her brown hair is pulled into a bun at her nape, a few strands framing her face. And around her neck is a dazzling diamond necklace that must have cost a small fortune.
“Oh, my goodness…” Grabbing my hand, she spins me around almost in the same fashion as Julian did earlier. “You look incredible. This dress…” She shifts her attention to Julian. “Dana?”
“Who else?” he answers with a laugh.
“Who else indeed. She truly is the best. You’d better keep your eyes on this one tonight, especially around Ethan.” She laughs, indicating she’s simply making a joke, but Julian knows it’s not.
He shifts, wrapping an arm around my waist. For once, I’m certain it’s not just for show but his innate need to protect me. The fear streaming from his eyes when he saw Ethan around me last night was far too real to simply be an act.
“He has a thing for the ladies. That’s probably why Sonia left him.”
This is news to me. I wonder if Chloe knows. “She did?”
A smirk forms on Sadie’s lips as she leans closer, her eyes brimming with excitement. She would get along famously with Chloe, both of them bonding over a shared love of gossip. Maybe that’s why I’ve formed such a strong bond with Sadie after only a few days. She rem
inds me so much of Chloe.
“It’s quite the scandal,” she whispers. “Last summer, after the Fourth of July, she was mysteriously absent from all festivities, forcing Ethan to attend alone. Then, earlier this year, she was rumored to have been staying with another man while on location for an upcoming movie that was shooting in Vancouver.”
“That’s not exactly a scandal, Sadie,” Christopher interjects, rolling his eyes.
“That’s not the scandalous part,” she insists, her gaze floating to his before returning to mine. I’m with Christopher. Two celebrities ending their relationship isn’t newsworthy these days. “It’s rumored this man was a male escort.”
My interest piques at this tidbit of information.
“Which sounds ridiculous. I mean, why would someone like Sonia Moreno need to hire an escort? Any man would love to be with her, so why should she pay someone to sleep with her?”
“Maybe it’s not about sex,” I argue, my own words surprising me. All eyes instantly zero in on me, so I explain, using information I’d gleaned from my brief conversations with August Laurent. “Men and women are programmed differently. As such, they typically hire escorts for different reasons. Yes, most men do so in order to have a quick romp in the sack. Women are different, and I would argue far superior to the male species.” I wink as I bring my Champagne flute back to my lips, taking a sip.
“I won’t argue with that,” Christopher quips. “Not if I want to sleep in the same bed as Sadie tonight.” He looks to Julian. “And I wouldn’t argue if I were you, either, not if you want to share Evie’s bed with her.”
“Duly noted.” Julian’s eyes find mine, wistful and eager. A part of me wonders if he wishes he could share my bed, too.
“As the superior gender,” I continue, tearing my gaze from Julian’s, “our reasons for hiring an escort are much more complicated than simply wanting to get laid. We do so to feel a connection, to feel adored, to feel beautiful.”