“Nope,” Clem said. “Hair of the dog that bit ya. Not gonna let you wallow in self-pity. You’re going out and if you don’t pick me up, I will show up and drag you down that huge staircase in the palace if I have to. And you know your mother would help me do it.”
Isabella sighed. “Whatever. I know I’m not going to win this one. My driver will be there by nine.”
“And you’d better be in the car with him,” Clementine said. “We’ll make up for the snafu at your party. It’ll be an awesome night!”
Chapter Nine
Well, fuck. Who knew some dumbass thing you did when you were young and stupid would come back to haunt you half your lifetime later?
Sawyer was in a funk. A large, slimy, purple haze of a funk that extended from last night into the next century. He’d gone from busting-his-ass-in-order-to-land-himself-on-top-of-the-world to ranking alongside sea sludge in terms of public perception—not to mention princess perception—of him. Shit, he hadn’t even targeted the right person with that remote-control dildo way back when. That was supposed to go in the backpack of some rich bitch snob called Amelie Baumgartner. He’d gotten so sick of her mocking him because he was there on scholarship, it was his way of putting her in her place. But dammit, he didn’t even have the luxury of exacting revenge on the right person! Instead, he’d stuck it in some other girl’s backpack—he didn’t even know her, really. He’d heard her name was Belle or something. There were so many progenies of diplomats and royalty at that school, he practically tripped over them. All he knew was that Amelie was a nasty, mean girl and he had it in for her. How could he know he’d pranked a princess? A princess who was fucking gorgeous now.
And now, fast-forward to this. Jesus, could it get much worse?
Somehow he’d toughed it out for the duration of the party, which dissipated quickly after the whole cake debacle. He made sure everything got bussed and cleaned and the kitchen was so sanitized you could’ve eaten off the floor by the time they headed out of there. His staff had gone home, leaving him to wallow in his miserable fate.
It only got worse when Clementine poked her head into the kitchen.
“Yoo hoo,” she said, but not in a cheery yoo hoo sort of manner, but rather more like an I’m only saying yoo hoo to give you a chance to not slit your wrists before I walk into the room type of way. “Anybody home?”
Sawyer’s face had been pressed against the cold metal of the kitchen table, where he’d let his head slump once everyone had gone home. He quickly lifted it up when he heard Clem enter.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, reaching out to rub something on his cheek. “It’s sort of red there.” She appeared to be inspecting it for signs of bleeding.
“Yep. Just the result of cold metal against flesh.” He squinted his eyes, embarrassed to see her.
“You doing okay?”
Sawyer lowered his head and lifted his eyes toward her in an are you kidding gesture. “Oh, yeah, totally. It’s like I just won the lottery. I’m great. Fan-fucking-tastic.”
Clementine sat down next to him. “Does it help you to know I’m not mad at you?”
“Sure. But a lot that’ll do me when my bills come due and I can’t pay them.”
“Are you referring to that you’ll never work in this town comment?”
“I believe the exact quote was ‘you’ll never bake another cake in this town if I have anything to say about it.’”
Clementine heaved a sigh. “I guess you’re right about that. But maybe she’ll calm down once she’s slept on it.”
“Pretty sure she’s not going to be sleeping after that whole display of rage. That was not the sign of a woman who planned to go home and drink some hot milk and tuck off to bed.”
Clementine laughed, shaking her head. “You’ve got that right,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Isabella on the warpath like that before. She’s usually so calm and pleasant.”
“Leave it to me to hit the jackpot on that, then. Double-whammying the poor thing. And both times with giant phalluses. Not to mention both times inadvertently. Sheesh.”
Sawyer raked his hands through his hair and just kept shaking his head. “Of all the boneheaded things, I freaking trusted the guy. I trusted him! What the hell was I thinking? How could I have not figured out that Louie had an agenda? How obvious did it need to be that he was bitter that I took over the business? And now look at everything. My doors will be shuttered in a month’s time after this.”
“Oh, I dunno,” Clem said. “Don’t they say there’s no such thing as bad publicity?”
“First of all, who is ‘they’? And second of all, not when you get blackballed by one of the most powerful women in the country. After I took out a bank account-crippling loan to purchase this business. And let’s not even talk about all the jobs that will be lost—people who’ve worked for DaVinci’s for their whole adult lives. I’m going to be destitute and out on my ass with no way to find work.”
“Maybe I can have a talk with Bell. I think once we give her a little time, cooler heads will prevail. Maybe she’ll even be able to laugh at it.”
“That was not the face of a woman prepared to laugh about that anytime soon.”
“You’d be surprised,” Clem said. “My mother always told me there was a fine line between love and hate, and I think that can apply for rage and joy. At least that’s what I’m sticking with.”
“You seriously think the woman will come ’round?”
Clementine started to laugh. “Let’s just look at it this way: Bella’s walking a tightrope right now, and sure maybe she’s teetering on the edge of the angry side of the ravine. But maybe a strong wind will blow and push her back toward reasonableness.”
“In other words, I’d best get my affairs in order and slip out of town under cover of darkness.”
Clementine reached out and gave Sawyer a hug. “Cheer up, man. Remember how the West used to be in a Cold War with the East? Look how that turned around! Anything’s possible!”
“That’s your consolation? That America and the Russians now speak to each other—barely, if that? Thanks. I’ll send you a forwarding address once I’m released from Monaforte’s debtors prison.”
“Just you wait, Sawyer Patterson. I’m pretty sure you’ll have Isabella eating out of your hand before you know it. Only please, be sure you’re not offering her a penis cake when it comes time.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sawyer said. “Now if you’ll forgive me, I’m off to pack my bags. I might be able to get a train out by dawn.”
Chapter Ten
Isabella really wasn’t one of those who chose to stew in her own juices. She hated the feeling of lugging the weight of anger around like a sack of flour. It was burdensome to carry grudges and deep down in her heart of hearts, she knew that. Intellectually, at least. But emotionally? Well, currently all bets were off on how that was working for her. Despite herself, all she could do was think about the many, many ways she’d love to eviscerate Sawyer Patterson.
She knew it wasn’t healthy to yearn for revenge. But this whole thing so thoroughly resurrected the pain she felt back at boarding school when Sawyer first struck out at her. Try as she might, she just couldn’t purge the scene from her mind that kept replaying on an endless loop like it was just yesterday.
The thing is, Isabella had never once breathed a word to a soul but her mother about the remote-control vibrator episode. The whole thing really couldn’t have come at a worse time in her fragile teenage life. There had been a group of girls, spearheaded by that horrid Amelie Baumgartner, who had gone out of their way to make Bella’s daily life a slice of hell on a silver platter. Amelie, perfect specimen of the Aryan race with her corn-silk blonde hair and ice-blue eyes, somehow bypassed puberty in exchange for supermodel looks: tall, lithe, and perfect, curse her. And her minions all appeared to have sprung from the loins of a Valkyrie. These girls were tall, gorgeous, and prepared to wield their social strength to ensure someone like mousy I
sabella would rue the day she dared attend their boarding school.
There were five of them in Bella’s suite, and they all shared one bathroom. One night they conspired to pull plastic wrap across the toilet bowl so that when Isabella used the loo in the middle of the night, she’d end up quite wide awake, sitting in her own warm pee.
They cut holes in the breasts of Bella’s sports bra someone had taken from her gym bag, so that when she showed up for football practice, she basically had to go braless, with all the boys on the sidelines making offensive catcalls at her very ample, uncontained breasts.
Once, early on in her career of tormenting Bella, Amelie pretended she was making amends by offering Bella a piece of gum. Which turned out to be wasabi wrapped in a foil gum wrapper.
Another time, they put Life Savers into the showerhead, so that despite taking a shower before going to bed, Isabella’s skin left a sticky residue on her sheets, yet she had no idea why until they taunted her about it the next morning.
On the day of the biology exam, Isabella took a shower to wake up after studying late the night before. Oddly, her soap simply would not lather. Turns out one of Amelie’s goons had painted clear nail polish on it. So poor Bella was stressed, tired, and hadn’t even gotten soap-clean when she arrived at the test. It didn’t help that biology wasn’t her favorite subject. She just wanted to take the test and get out of there. The holidays were looming and within days, she’d be home, far, far from those miserable girls.
She’d just finished some lengthy answer involving homeostasis when the buzzing began. At first, it was merely a distraction, which was bad enough. She struggled to focus on the subject matter on a good day, but to have some weird noise interrupting her concentration was not helpful.
Monsieur Henri rapped loudly on his desk with his knuckles: his way of telling whomever it was to be quiet. Bella got through three more questions, although the buzzing persisted in between a question on cell organelles and another on photosynthesis until she looked down to see her backpack seemingly shimmying in the aisle next to her. She looked up and all eyes were on her as Monsieur Henri approached her desk at a clipped pace, his perfectly polished shoes snapping loudly on the marble floor, reminding her that he meant business.
“Mademoiselle Isabella,” he said, his voice curt and businesslike. “What is this that you are up to?”
He grabbed her bag, unzipped the front pocket, reached in, and pulled out the large, purple throbbing culprit.
Bella’s eyes grew large. What the hell? How did that thing end up there?
She immediately assumed it was yet another prank wrought by the evil five, and so blurted out, “That’s not mine! That belongs to them!” She pointed toward the group of them, who all sat in a cluster.
Amelie just rolled her eyes and put her pointer finger to her head and turned it repeatedly, motioning that Bella was crazy. Her strategy was fast and effective. “Isabella! I thought I told you to put that into your dresser drawer before someone else found it. Bad enough that I came upon you using the thing. Now everyone knows.”
Bella wished the floor could have swallowed her up whole.
“What is the meaning of this?” her teacher asked.
“I have no idea,” she said, casting her eyes downward, dreadfully afraid to look up to see everyone focusing on her.
“Was this a ploy to help you copy answers off of the student next to you?” he asked.
“Oh, God, no,” she said. “I didn’t need to do that. I studied hard for this exam.”
“Looks like that wasn’t the only thing hard she was doing,” Amelie said.
Bella glared at her, but it was too late. The class had erupted in laughter, complete falling-in-the-aisles-in-gales-of-giggles, all at her expense.
It wasn’t till she left class that she heard the rumors that it wasn’t even Awful Amelie behind it, but instead, some boy she didn’t even know named Sawyer, no doubt put up to it by the mean girls.
Bella called her mother, and within hours, they’d sent a driver for her, and she was on her way home, never to return to the Académie Saint Thaddaeus. Au revoir to that miserable place.
Chapter Eleven
Isabella decided she was going to go the extra mile to look good and feel good tonight. She resolved to release her anger and cast aside her worries and annoyance and just focus on having a good time. After all, she was young, single, and a princess, for goodness sake. And she lived in a palace! If she couldn’t be happy, well, then, who could? Wrongful penis cake on your birthday? First-world problems. She could handle that. She was a big girl. Besides which, she was certain she’d never see that Sawyer character ever again; no doubt he was on the first train out of town after the whole scene, tail nicely tucked between his legs.
With that in mind, she rifled through her extensive closet and pulled out a sexy yet simple, fitted Victoria Beckham strapless emerald-green dress, piled her hair up casually, threw on some dangly diamond earrings, and took a final look in the mirror to confirm what she already knew: she looked amazing.
Just as she was about to call for her driver, she got a message from Clementine.
Change in plans. Miracle of miracles, I talked Edouardo into joining us tonight, and he’s offered to drive. We’ll pick you up in twenty.
Clementine’s brother Edouardo was punctual. You’d have thought he spent time in the military he was so rigid in so many areas of his life. No one ever took him too seriously because he did a good enough job taking himself too seriously. Bella hoped one day the man would find someone to inject some levity into his uptight personality. She hated that he was so closed up: he was a handsome man, with wavy blond hair and expressive, earthen eyes. Surely some woman could look past his uptightedness (if that was even a word) and fall for that seemingly ice-encrusted heart.
Clem texted Bella to be at the ready, so she stood at the base of the palace steps when the two pulled up.
“I’ll let you ride shotgun,” she said as she got out and held the door for Isabella. “Damn, you are rocking that jewel-tone dress, girl! So happy you’re here with a newfound lease on life. I worried you’d commit hari-kari over that whole birthday party thing.”
“And no penis cake is worth committing hari-kari over,” Edouardo said, cracking a smile.
“Wait, Edouardo? Actually cracking a joke?” Bella said. “I’d almost be annoyed at that comment were it anyone else who said it but you, well, you get a free pass because I know it’s part of your grow-a-personality therapy.” She smiled back at him.
“Touché,” he said, licking his fingertip and swiping the air with his pointer finger as if keeping score. “Edouardo, one, Bella, one. Looks like we’re even.”
“Okay, so, here’s your primer on tonight’s party,” Clem said. “Gabriella is back from living in the States. You might remember she was about to marry some fellow she met in Washington, DC, but she wanted to come back to Monaforte and he refused, so that was that.”
“Last time I saw Gabriella, she’d gained a bit of weight,” Bella said. “Brokenhearted over that other guy she met at university. I think he was in the Royal Armed Guards or something?”
“Yeah, poor Gabriella lost the guy, gained the weight. Hardly fair.”
“But she was always lots of fun, right?” Bella said. “I mean, I just remember her from hanging out with the larger group of friends. Not like she and I ever did stuff together.”
“Oh, God, Gab is a riot sometimes,” Clem said. “Always the practical joker. But isn’t she some distant cousin of yours, Bell?”
“Great, I’ll be sure to stay off her radar,” Isabella said. “I do think we’re somehow related—she’s like a first cousin once removed or something like that from my father’s side of the family. She’s some sort of contessa harking back to the days of Italian royalty.”
“I think it will be fun to see her after all this time.”
“Speaking of never seeing someone: Edouardo, what brings you along tonight? You’re usually hole
d up in that estate, never to be seen by the light of day.”
He cocked his head toward the backseat where his sister sat. “Clementine threatened to post pictures of me on Instagram in my underwear binge-watching American television shows if I didn’t come along.”
“Was this because you wanted a designated driver or because you care for your brother’s welfare?” She nodded at Clementine with a smirk.
Clem hesitated, then started to laugh. “Seriously, it was a hundred percent because my brother needs to get a life. Ever since Papa passed Edouardo is acting all paternalistic and like his whole life needs to be about taking care of me and our mum.”
The car pulled off and up to yet another palatial looking estate. “Oh, we’re getting Sebastian too?” Bella said.
“Yep, he couldn’t pass up the designated driver. That was his sole concern,” Clem said. “Well, that and me in the backseat next to him.” She batted her eyelashes.
“Don’t do anything gross in my backseat or I’ll drop you off on a lonely stretch of highway,” her brother said.
Clem rolled her eyes. “Maybe you could learn something, Mister Boring.”
Sebastian climbed in the back seat car and refereed the two of them until they arrived at Gabriella’s.
“Okay, so you’re ready for this, Bella?” Clem said as they got out of the car.
“Why do I feel like I’m making a big mistake?” she said.
“Trust me,” she said. “You are going to have the night of your life.”
A promise Isabella was worried she’d heard far too often lately from her friend.
Chapter Twelve
Sawyer still couldn’t believe that Isabella was the vibrator girl. In a million years, he’d never have recognized that gangly, completely forgettable girl with the bad complexion as the stunning brunette with those piercing blue eyes (ones that were too good at glaring, unfortunately). Damn, she outgrew that gawky phase in a big way.
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