“Oh, right, right. You’re the one who was going to help sabotage my magazine.” She smiled brightly and sipped her punch. “Merry Christmas.”
Okay. I probably deserved that. I didn’t argue with her that I wasn’t the one who had planned to give away the subscriber list, because she probably wouldn’t believe me. And I wasn’t going to get mad at Neil over Valerie knowing about it, because she was his business partner. It would have been a total dick move for him to not warn her that the woman he was dating— okay, call it what it was, moving in with— was just fired from their company for shady ethics.
Valerie had every right to dislike me. And I didn’t really have any reason to dislike her, apart from the fact that she’d had a baby with Neil, something I had been totally unwilling to do.
So, I just nodded and said, “Merry Christmas,” back. Either she would come around and like me, or she wouldn’t. But I wasn’t going to be uncivil, especially when I was the one in the wrong.
Neil came back just as I was considering some way to make my escape without appearing rude.
“Fiona has arrived,” he announced, smiling at my expression as our eyes met across the room. There was nothing that could have made me feel better in that moment than his smile, and my entire face lit up brighter than the Christmas tree, I’m sure.
Fiona was short, slim, and the spitting image of her brother, albeit with softer features. Her short blonde hair would have looked like an awkward growing-out phase on anyone else, but she wore it with style, pushing it back from her face with one hand and making an exaggerated expression of frustration. “Sorry, everyone! That van is such a nightmare. I’m used to parking the Jaguar, it’s less than a quarter of the size.”
“Well, I’m terribly sorry my stroke inconvenienced you,” Rose said dryly.
“Where’s Michael?”
“Running behind as always,” he called from just outside the door. He slowed his steps from a jog as he entered. “Sorry, everyone. I was on the phone with mom and dad. They just got back from brunch with the Consul General of Denmark, and I wanted to catch them while we were still both on Christmas day.”
“Yes, well. If we’re all here,” Neil said, clearing his throat.
Dinner was served in the dining room. We’d been at the house for two days, and I’d yet to see it. It was at the back of the house, connected to the drawing room from the music room. The music room was, as far as I could tell, just the same as any of the other living rooms in the house, but this one had a piano forte in it. I was feeling very poised and fancy, with all these poised and fancy people, up until the second we stepped through the doors and I saw where we would be eating.
“Oh my god.” I halted, and nearly got crushed under the wheels of Rose’s chair.
The walls and floor of the dining room were marble, shades of ivory and pale brown. Let me reiterate: the walls were marble. Enormous framed tapestries hung on the wall, rosy-cheeked, well-groomed shepherds and shepherdesses frolicking in pastoral scenes. Two large chandeliers hung over the long table in a blaze of light magnified by the gilt mirror over the wide white fireplace.
“That’s right, I never gave you a proper tour,” Neil said apologetically. It wasn’t his fault; I’d been content to mostly hang out in his room watching television while he worked. The rest of the house was too intimidating, and if I ran into any of the black-uniformed staff, they were so solicitous of my comfort I felt guilty when I didn’t have a job for them. I’d been more or less hiding from them, so I hadn’t wandered around.
“Elwood hospitality strikes again,” Valerie said with a good-natured laugh as she pulled out a chair from the table. “I’m sure you two had better things to do.”
“Mother, don’t be disgusting,” Emma scolded.
Then I noticed where Valerie had taken her seat. At the right hand of the head of the table, across from Emma. Michael sat beside Emma, of course, and Fiona moved the chair beside Valerie away from the table for Rose’s wheelchair, leaving me far, far down the line.
Emma flushed with embarrassment. “Mom... Sophie?”
“Oh, right.” She laughed and waved her hand, as though it hadn’t occurred to her that she’d taken the seat next to Neil. “So sorry, Sophie.”
“It’s no problem, I’m new here. I’m easy to forget,” I said easily. Inside, I was seething.
“Never,” Neil said with a wink, and then I remembered that no matter what Valerie might do to make me feel unwelcome, it was her problem, not mine. Neil loved me, he was a grown man who got to make his own choices, and god knew he didn’t let people push him around. Valerie could dig at me as much as she wanted, and it wouldn’t make a bit of difference.
Dinner was amazing, and surprisingly formal for the easy, family dinner talk around the elegant table. Seven courses, each with a vegan option for Neil and Emma, stuffed us like the proverbial Christmas goose. Which was served as the main course. I assumed it wasn’t the same goose who’d nobly sacrificed its liver for the pâté served with the salad. Everything was delicious, far better than even the best restaurant I’d ever been to.
“Your cook... does he or she belong here full time?” I asked Neil, dabbing my mouth with my napkin.
“Fear not, he usually works for me in London, as well.” Neil said with his half smile. “He’s very talented. The only reason he’s with me is because his knees were too bad to keep working in restaurants. He’s a marvel, he can make you anything you could possibly imagine.”
“That could be dangerous,” I warned him.
“Who picked the menu for this evening?” Fiona asked with a laugh. “Emma, were you reading a lot of Dickens lately?”
“Chef wanted to do something fun and traditional, and I thought that was a splendid idea. Dad wanted a memorable holiday, so why not give it to him?” Emma sighed happily. “And it’s far better than last year.”
Everyone shared a laugh, and Neil put his hand over my wrist on the table. “Last year, Elizabeth thought Christmas would be a lovely time to invite a very new, very experimental chef from Spain to join us for the holiday. I paid out the nose for bits of foam that were infused with flavors of things.”
“We almost starved,” Rose said, chuckling. “But really, we shouldn’t be making fun of poor Elizabeth. How rude of us, dear, you were just being adventurous.”
It took me a moment to realize she was talking to me, as though I were Elizabeth, and when I did it was just a heartbeat behind everyone else, so I ended up facing a bunch of uncomfortable glances as I processed this fact.
“Mother, that’s—” Fiona began, looking uncertainly over at me. Beside me, Valerie watched my reaction with a slowly growing expression of amusement. She was waiting to see what I would do, if I would explode like the spoiled brat she suspected I was.
“That’s alright, Rose.” I waved my hand. “I know they’re just teasing.”
I gave Neil a reassuring smile, and Emma beamed at me gratefully from across the table. There. I hadn’t made anyone feel awkward about my presence. I think I deserved some kind of gold star for that.
After a delicious course of vegan plum pudding for dessert, we went back to the drawing room to exchange gifts and have cocktails. We were all happy and relaxed, chatting amicably when Emma, a twinkle in her eyes, said, “Dad, please tell me you made Sophie do the shoe thing.”
“Shoe thing?” I raised an eyebrow.
“There was a tradition my father’s family had when he was a child, and he passed it on to us,” Neil explained. “You left your shoe in the window on Christmas eve, instead of hanging up a stocking by the fireplace.”
“Sophie, you are going to be so confused,” Emma said with a laugh. “There are like twenty-seven Santas in Iceland.”
“Oh no, was I supposed to set out twenty-seven shoes, then?” I teased Neil. “I didn’t even leave out one, the staff here pick everything up the minute you leave it unattended.”
“Not to worry, I did it for you.” He smiled his mysterious ha
lf smile and pointed to the tall windows behind the tree.
Rising from the sofa, I went off in the direction he’d pointed. In the corner of the low windowsill, a gorgeous nude-colored Christian Louboutin pump waited with an envelope inside.
I picked up the shoe reverently. It was goddamned beautiful, shiny, and oh, such a sexy tall heel. I slipped one of my own shoes off, took the envelope out of the Loubou, and tried the shoe on immediately. It fit perfectly. I thought of Neil carefully examining my shoes while I had packed. He’d gotten this before we’d left New York.
“What’s in the envelope?” Emma asked, snuggling closer to Michael on the velvet upholstered settee.
I unfolded the paper inside and read the note silently.
My darling Sophie,
The other shoe is waiting for you upstairs. Be sure to pack them when we leave for Paris for New Year’s Eve.
Merry Christmas, and all my love,
N
“Well, what does it say?” Emma demanded.
I raised my head, beaming, momentarily speechless. “Neil is taking me to Paris for New Year’s.”
“Go Dad!” Emma said, giving him a thumbs up. “Very romantic.”
I went to Neil and leaned down to kiss him briefly. I’d save the utter mauling for when we were alone. “Thank you. You’re wonderful.”
“Speaking of romantic,” Michael said, nudging Emma. “Remember when you said you thought Christmas-themed proposals were romantic?”
Neil’s attention shifted sharply. I looked up, my focus drifting with everyone else’s toward Emma and Michael. You could have heard a pin drop as Michael rose from the couch, then took a knee in front of her.
“Oh my god,” Valerie said softly, her hand flying up to her mouth.
The expression on Neil’s face echoed Valerie’s sentiment, but for the opposite reason. His facial “Oh my god,” was more like, “Oh my god, that bear is eating my loved one.”
“Emma, I am... so in love with you,” Michael said, his voice breaking with emotion. “And I know how important family is to you. So that’s why I wanted them with us when we started our family together. Emma, will you marry me?”
My knees went weak at the adorableness. A tear rolled down Emma’s cheek, and she wiped it away with her thumb as she nodded, frantically, and giggled, “Yes!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Emma’s mother, aunt, and grandmother erupted into congratulations and applause. Her father looked like he’d just accidentally swallowed a tack.
Michael took a small black box from his pocket and opened it. From across the room, I didn’t get a good look at the ring, but I was certain the diamond in it was conflict-free.
I nudged Neil’s shoulder with my elbow as I sat on the arm of his chair. “Your daughter is getting married, look happy,” I whispered.
He shook his head, cleared his throat and stood. Finished effusively hugging her mother, Emma launched herself at her father. He hugged her, hard, and when he stepped back, he reached for Michael’s hand.
“Michael,” was all he managed to say in congratulations. He addressed Emma with a carefully neutral expression. “I had no idea the two of you had discussed marriage.”
“Well, we were talking about it.” Emma was positively radiant as she looked at her new fiancé. “But I had no idea. This is such a wonderful surprise!”
“I think this calls for a toast, doesn’t it Neil?” Valerie prompted. She was trying to distract him before he lost the will to force cheerfulness.
“Yes, of course.” He nodded. “The staff has all gone for the night, I’m afraid, but I’m sure I can manage something.”
“I’ll go with you,” Valerie said quickly, hopping up from the arm of the sofa.
As much as I didn’t like the way she’d treated me tonight, I had to admit I was glad it was Valerie and not me going off to the kitchen with Neil. I had no idea how he was going to take this. Did Valerie know how much he disliked Michael? Maybe she’d be more understanding about the whole thing than I could be.
I bristled with jealousy at that. God, what was the matter with me? I should be happy that Neil had friends who understood his sometimes-weird moods and reactions to things. I didn’t need to be everything for him. I just needed to be Sophie, and that was good enough, he’d shown me that repeatedly.
I realized I was staring off in the direction they’d gone when I looked over and saw Emma watching me. I smiled automatically. No way in hell was I going to let her know that I was jealous of her mother. That would put her in such a horrible position, and it would make me a complete jerk.
I crossed the room and gave her a small, brief hug. The first I’d ever given her, and I think I surprised her with it.
“Congratulations,” I told her, and stepping back, I shook Michael’s hand. “You two are obviously going to be so happy with each other. Anybody could see it.”
“Except for my father.” Emma rolled her eyes, but her elation didn’t dim a bit. “Sophie, maybe you could...”
“Her mother antagonizes him,” Michael said with a wry smile. “Maybe you could rescue him.”
“I was going to say keep him distracted so he doesn’t poison you.” Emma elbowed Michael in the ribs. “She does not antagonize.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I said with a laugh, and headed off in the direction Neil and Valerie had gone. I had no idea where the kitchen was, but as I passed through the darkened music room, into the darker, windowless dining room, I got a sense of where it might be. Light spilled into the blackness from a crack underneath a door at the far end, where the staff had brought out the dinner earlier.
Being in a room that size, totally silent, totally dark, was unnerving. I didn’t believe in ghosts or anything, but it was hard to shake the feeling of being watched, or that something might grab me. The house was beautiful, but totally creepy. I thought back to what Neil had said about retiring here. I hoped that if we were still together at that point, I’d have some say in the whole Haunted Mansion decor.
I opened the door and found myself in a long, narrow butler’s pantry. On both sides, tall glass-fronted cabinets held gleaming china. There was a surprisingly modern swinging metal door. Through the oval window that was just slightly too tall for me, I caught a glimpse of the sturdy, industrial kitchen beyond.
I could hear, though, and what I heard was Valerie’s not-at-all-pleased voice.
“Okay, what is this?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Neil’s calm was so obviously faked, even I could tell he was upset, and I’d only been with him for two months.
“You can’t be happy for your daughter? Neil, she looked like she’d swallowed the sun, she was glowing so hard.” Valerie snorted. “You’re going to have to get over whatever has been going on with you lately.”
“Nothing is ‘going on’ with me. I simply don’t care for Michael.” Neil’s voice sounded slightly strained; the pop of a cork punctuated his sentence.
“You have to be joking. Michael is practically perfect. American, but perfect. And she’s so happy.” Valerie’s tone turned softly wheedling. “Would it really harm you to simply put in an effort to get to know him? To listen to what he was saying without looking like you were on a jury?”
“I just don’t think he’s the right man for Emma.”
“You don’t think any man is the right man for Emma. If she donned a habit and took vows you’d think that God wasn’t a good enough husband.”
I covered my mouth to stifle my laugh. I didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, but that was pretty funny.
“She’s too young,” Neil countered, and immediately I thought, Oh no.
“To get married,” he clarified. Like he knew where the conversation was going to go now.
I really hoped it didn’t go where I thought it might.
“From the man who’s dating a woman half his age.” Valerie sighed derisively. “I knew you were going to have a midlife crisis. I figured you’d at least wait un
til your fifties.”
That... ugh, I didn’t want to use the b-word. I really, really didn’t want to use the b-word.
I knew I was going to have to face her again, once they came out of the kitchen with the champagne. I needed get very Zen, very fast, and listening to the rest of the conversation was clearly not going to be helpful. But I couldn’t tear myself away. Not because I didn’t trust Neil.
I didn’t like feeling as though I was in competition with Valerie, but all of her little slights tonight were too deliberate. It was almost as though she were trying to make me jealous. Why? Because she was angry with me over what I’d done at Porteras? As far as I was concerned, she could be as angry as she wanted, and she would be totally justified. But I didn’t like the other possibility that came to mind, the possibility that she was still carrying some kind of torch for Neil, decades after their relationship had ended. It had been bad enough when Valerie was targeting me with barely veiled hostility, but now she was trying to insinuate herself into Neil’s private life where I was concerned. That made me suspect that there was more to her dislike of me than just anger over my bad business ethics.
“Sophie isn’t my midlife crisis,” Neil stated firmly. I have to admit, my heart did funny things to hear him defending our relationship and me. “She’s my girlfriend.”
“Girl being the operative word. Come on, don’t you think this is a bit unfair to Emma?” Valerie asked.
“I don’t see how.” Neil’s tone was even. He wasn’t allowing himself to let Valerie draw him into an argument. “I’m not asking Emma to date Sophie.”
“It bothers her. She told me it does. You have to admit, it’s strange to be sleeping with someone the same age as your daughter.”
I realized in that moment that she wasn’t just commenting on Neil’s private life. She was actively plotting to get rid of me.
I heard something clatter to the countertop. When Neil answered her, he was terse, his anger unmistakable. “I haven’t asked for your opinion or advice in the matter. You are free to dislike Sophie, but as long as you are in my house, you will be civil to her. She isn’t a passing fancy or a midlife crisis. She’s a part of my life and I expect her to be for a very long time.”
The Girlfriend (The Boss) Page 11