The Sweetest Charade

by Jadesola James

  * * *

  Faust was one of the most uncomfortable experiences of Alexander’s life so far, and he knew it was compounded by more than a little guilt.

  Delysia sat next to him, large eyes fixed immovably on the stage. She drank sparingly from her glass of champagne, clapped politely after each act, said a few words to her neighbors in the box about how beautiful it all was. She even spent the slower numbers with her small hand tucked in Alexander’s arm, her head warm and fragrant on his shoulder. Despite her outrageous dress and the flash of hurt and anger he’d seen earlier, there wasn’t a single crack in her act, and that somehow made Alexander feel even worse.

  Her face now—it wasn’t the Delysia he’d had the pleasure of being with for days, nor the woman he’d nearly taken to his bed. This was the bright, carefully curated Delysia Daniels playing a role, and nothing more.

  Damn his cousin and that perverted mind of his.

  Otherwise, the night was a success that he knew would be talked about for years to come. The influencers’ recommendations had secured, Poppy told him excitedly after the last curtain call, a sold-out season, and the powers that be were contemplating a waiting list. The Philadelphia Opera, smelling competition for the first time in its centurial existence, had already reached out about potential collaborations.

  Everything they touched, Alexander thought, turned to gold. It was becoming evident to him why Delysia had chosen this life. If one was young enough, beautiful enough, and charismatic enough—well, why not?

  He suddenly felt very tired, and very old. And when Delysia approached him after midnight, when all the revelers had headed out for the evening, he knew he should apologize, but didn’t have the words to somehow. Perhaps when they were back in their suite...

  Her brown eyes were calm and steady. “Our car is here,” she said, “but I won’t be going back with you.”

  “Why?” he asked, and immediately could have bitten his tongue—she was looking at him like he’d taken leave of his senses.

  “I am going out,” she said, as if to a small child who was having trouble understanding. “With Eden Kim. No need to wait for me, I’ll probably crash in her suite when we get back. I just don’t want you to wonder where I am.”

  “Delysia—”

  She cut him off with a smile that was both bright and brittle. “It’s fine, Alexander. Two more days, right? We can do this; we’re grown-ups. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She turned and walked out with her usual unhurried stride, hips swaying gently. He stood there a long time before he tucked his hands in his pockets and walked away, and slowly.

  The Mercedes he’d arrived in idled at the curb; he could see it through the plate-glass windows once he reached the ground floor. The photographers were gone, as were club members. Waitstaff were rolling up the red carpet, sweeping up the glitter that still clung like raindrops to his hair. The energy had left the room, along with the occupants; the very building seemed to sag under the weight of exhaustion.

  “Sir?”

  Alexander turned slowly. A woman stood behind him; her uniform indicated she was an usher.

  “This was on your seat in the box, sir,” she said, and held it out. It was a slim, glittery wallet with a gold chain as a wristband.

  Alexander opened it. The first thing he saw was a driver’s license with Delysia’s smiling face on it. “It must have slid out of her handbag—thank you, I’ll get it to her,” he said to the woman, who nodded and walked off.

  How he’d get it to her was the real question. He knew she’d need it; her credit cards were inside, and she’d surely be buying drinks or food at some point, or hiring a taxi to take her back to the train station. Plus, he didn’t want her to panic about losing it either.

  He picked up his phone, called her. It went straight to voicemail. He called again—same thing.

  “Oh, boy,” he muttered, and shot a text instead, waited. It hovered tantalizingly in cyberspace for a moment, then showed as delivered but not read.

  “For goodness’ sake.” She was a social media guru, for crying out loud. Unless she was trying to avoid him—

  Don’t give yourself that much credit.

  He opened his account, scrolled his contacts until he found Eden Kim’s handle, and looked. Sure enough, there was a live video streaming. Eden was pouting glossily into the camera through a curtain of shiny dark hair, surrounded by a throng of dancing women in a dim room.

  “I’m live,” she said breathily into the camera, “at the Lyon’s Den in North Philly, and fresh off of the Gilded Express. Just saw La bohème—”

  “Faust!” he exclaimed.

  “...while it was gorgeous, it was also sooooooooooo long! Just trying to get that energy level back up, y’know? Anyway, what do you guys want to see, us doing shots, or see what everyone’s wearing?”

  Oh dear God. Was this what Delysia did regularly? A quick look at the folks she’d tagged confirmed that yes, indeed, Delysia was with her. He hurried out to the street, called an Uber, and was on the way to the club within minutes.

  Chapter Nine

  It wasn’t difficult to find a distraction from the dumpster fire that had been the evening. When Delysia left the opera house she spotted a white Bentley with two long, slim, creamy-skinned legs dangling lazily over the pavement out of the open rear door.

  The legs were subject to anyone’s guess, but Delysia would recognize those shoes anywhere—a gorgeous satin-lined, open-toed, rhinestone-buckled pair of stilettos, gift from the House of Valentina. She trotted over to the car.

  “Hi, Eden,” she said coolly, placing her hands on her hips. “Nice shoes.” There was no sign of Nicky, thank God—she’d have smelled his cologne this close.

  The legs uncrossed and drew back, and Eden’s head emerged from the dark interior. She gave Delysia a slow, serpentine blink, her garnet-red lips curved up into a smile.

  “They’re House of Valentina, but a girl like you knows that already. You’re not still mad at me for getting their endorsement, are you, darling?” she said to Delysia, then air-kissed in her general direction. “Do come in. I’m just waiting on the driver—he’s getting me an espresso.”

  Delysia slid in the back seat gratefully—it was getting rather crisp outside. “Of course I’m not mad.” Although she had been. She was supposed to be the one to promote the shoes, after meeting a buyer at a party, but Eden had managed to score them first.

  In retrospect, her method had been genius. She’d posted a review of Essie jewel-tone nail polishes that had racked up twenty-seven thousand views in a day—and had not-so-coyly mentioned that they might be a great match for the House of Valentina’s Kiss Me Tender open-toed stilettos. Delysia had grudgingly accepted the loss. Eden Kim might be shady as hell, but no one could question that she was stylishly shady. (Plus, Delysia had landed a pair of Jimmy Choo rhinestone-studded flats a week later, so it was all water under the proverbial bridge.)

  They air-kissed, twice on each side.

  “No Abbott-Hill tonight?” Eden asked, lifting a whisper-thin eyebrow that she’d shellacked on earlier. The fashion dictated thick brows now, but not for Eden Kim, never!

  “God, don’t call him that.” Delysia grimaced and shook her head at Eden’s offer of a cigarette. The latter lit up and took a long drag with every indication of enjoyment.

  “If the shoe fits...” Eden giggled at her own cleverness. “He is cute. How the hell did you find him?”

  “I was doing an event in Southampton and he was there.” Delysia launched breezily into the cover story she and Alexander had prepared weeks ago. “I spilled wine and he was there to rescue me with a handkerchief and a club soda.”

  “Interesting.” Eden’s eyes seemed to penetrate Delysia’s face.

  The driver arrived, thank goodness, passing Eden coffee in a tiny cup, and then they headed out. “If it weren’t for this there’d
be no way in hell I’d be able to stay awake,” muttered Eden, downing her espresso in a gulp.

  “What, partying isn’t enough to keep your eyes open?” Delysia said, amused. “Face it, Eden. This trip is the merching opportunity of a lifetime.”

  “I know.” Eden was grudging, but agreed. “I’ve doubled my numbers for this month. I suppose I should thank you for not leaving me off your list.”

  “What, and deny the Gilded Express the pleasure of hosting Eden Kim?” Delysia threw out her arms in a grand gesture and sank back into the plush car seat, suddenly tired. She’d have to conserve her energy for that night. Unbidden, her mind flashed to her suite, the soft bed, the flat-screen television...and Alexander, reading. Or writing. Or making her watch some stupid documentary...

  “Frankly, I’m surprised that you’re hanging out with me at all,” Eden said, fixing Delysia with an inscrutable look. “If I had a boyfriend like yours, I’d be out with him. Unless,” she said, as if the answer were very obvious, “you’re trying to get people to speculate about why you’re not together. A little much considering you two are the face of the damn thing, but I could see how that would work...”

  Delysia closed her eyes, then opened them. “We had a disagreement,” she said shortly. She really didn’t want to start explaining herself to Eden, and was surprised she was even bothering, but...well. She was tired. She might regret this later, but whatever. “I just need some fresh air tonight, and there’s none on that damn train.”

  Eden’s penciled brows rose to their limit, but to her credit, she didn’t pry. Instead she patted Delysia’s arm with a hand that was as ice-cold as it was soft, even through the material of her sequined blazer.

  “Well, I’m glad you came here then,” she said sweetly. “I’m going to make sure you have a good time tonight. One second—” and Eden pulled out her phone, speed-dialing someone and beginning to chatter on about VIP rooms and bottle service.

  Delysia sank back in the seat again, relieved. This was exactly what she needed, she told herself. Drinks, dancing, and Eden’s vapidity, enough to remind her that there was a world out there beyond Alexander Abbott-Hill, his stupid estate, his stupid university, his stupid tweeds, and his stupid, stupid trains.

  * * *

  Eden was as good as her word. When they arrived they were met at the door by a group of gorgeously dressed young men and women—local celebrities, influencers, and the like—who seemed determined to showcase themselves to the best advantage in the City of Brotherly Love.

  Eden pinched Delysia’s arm to get her attention. “Selfie!” she shouted over the din leaking from inside, and she and Delysia paused in the grimy doorway of the nightclub to take a video. “I’m here with my girl Delyyyyyyyyyysia,” Eden drawled. “She’s managed to drag herself away from true love long enough to keep me company tonight.”

  “Hello, y’all,” Delysia said brightly. She could feel her voice automatically rise into the appropriate register for recording—sexy, flirtatious, a little husky. “What’s on the table for tonight?”

  “Us, when we’re dancing later,” Eden said, then guffawed. “Anyway, my loves, what will it be? Shots? Dancing? Or should we go see who’s at the bar?”

  She clicked off the video and posted a quick quiz for their followers to answer, then pursed her lips. “I hope to God they don’t say dance. I’m not in the mood to mosh in these shoes, and that’s what I’ve heard this dance floor is like.”

  “Neither am I.” Delysia wasn’t much of a drinker, she was more of the type who would have one of something and sip over several hours, but tonight she definitely wanted a buzz. “Let’s give them fifteen minutes and get a quick drink anyway, shall we?”

  Eden’s eyes glittered for a moment, then she smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

  The two women drifted over to the bar; Eden ordered a dry martini and Delysia, after some hesitation, ordered a vodka soda, then changed her order to a vodka rocks.

  “Oh my,” Eden said, obviously amused. “You’re a Moët girl, if I remember correctly.”

  “I’m not too old to change.”

  “No, that’s true. Well, let’s get you good vodka, if you’re going to insist on drinking it.” Eden ordered a bottle of Grey Goose and asked that it be sent to a table. The place was secured in moments, and Eden draped herself carefully on a chair, crossing one long leg over the other. She kept looking over her shoulder.

  “Expecting anyone?”

  “You might say that,” Eden replied, and then grinned. “And what do you know, there he is.”

  Delysia turned—and her glass slipped out of her hand, clattering to the floor.

  It was Nicky.

  Delysia could barely hear Eden’s chattering in the background; she stood up, jaw tense. She felt Eden’s hand on her arm, and the girl made a whiny noise. “Oh, Dells, don’t run off because of Nicky. It’s been what, a year? It’s time for the two of you to make nice...”

  Delysia’s heart was hammering so hard that she could hear it in her ears. Nicky had reached them by then, and tilted his head, smiled. “Hey, honey,” he said, simply.

  “Don’t call me that,” Delysia croaked.

  Nicky’s dark brown eyes gleamed in his chiseled face. He was more handsome than last year, if that was possible. His black shirt and trousers fit him to perfection, and as he grew closer she caught a familiar whiff of designer cologne, nothing like the comforting mix of pleasant scents on Alexander’s skin. She shrank back from him, and he frowned.

  “You look good.” His eyes skimmed possessively over her body, lingering at the swell of her breasts, her hips. Delysia knew exactly what he was remembering, and immediately felt more naked than she ever had in her life.

  “Don’t.”

  Nicky lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Look, Eden thought it was a good idea for me to come out, yeah? So you’ll know I have no hard feelings about what you did to me—”

  “I did to you?” Delysia’s head snapped up. “You ditched me, Nicky. In more ways than one.”

  “It was only business, and you know it,” Nicky said dismissively. He waved off Delysia’s sputtering. “We wouldn’t have been together in the first place if it wasn’t for all this, let’s be real. You packed out of our place before I came back. That wasn’t cool, Dells.”

  Delysia couldn’t answer for a long moment, because she was choked with rage. Faye had warned her about Nicky. You don’t give a guy like that an emotional advantage, she’d said.

  But Delysia had been blown away by his humor, his good looks, his charisma. She became almost obsessive in her quest to be the perfect girlfriend. At first going to his gigs and posing with him at parties and playing house in his Williamsburg loft had been fun, but it got old really fast—once she realized his concept of dating hadn’t included exclusivity—and she realized that in his head, they weren’t really dating at all, not for anything but the likes.

  This time, she was sure both parties knew what was involved.

  “Eden says you’re dating that schoolteacher,” he said as if it were a foreign word. Delysia thought she saw a hint of something malevolent in those dark eyes, and for the millionth time since he’d come over, she wanted to get up and run. Pride kept her sitting, and she raised her chin.

  “He’s a professor,” Delysia snapped. Alexander, who’d treated her like shit tonight.

  “You all are making quite a stir so far.”

  She grunted.

  “What, trouble in paradise?”

  Delysia flinched. She couldn’t help it, and she immediately shrank, waiting for Nicky to move in for the kill. When he didn’t say anything for a long time, she risked looking up; he was staring down at her, an odd expression on his narrow face.

  “Babe,” he said. “Look. It was a long time ago, and we’re not going to agree on what was what. Truce?” He held out a hand.


  Every bone in her body was screaming at her not to trust a word he said, but she felt too beaten down to fight it. She watched as her hand disappeared into his and suddenly felt drained of all strength. Alexander...he’d never be for her.

  Men like Nicky were on her level.

  “Drink, honey?” Nicky was saying, waving over a waiter.

  Slowly, deliberately, she let her body relax, angle toward Nicky’s massive chest. He chuckled low in his throat, and she fought back another bout of revulsion.

  “Pour me a glass then,” she said huskily, and bit the inside of her cheek hard when Nicky’s lips grazed the side of her neck as he poured. The vodka, however, had blunted the edges of her reality rather nicely already, and she was fine not caring, for the moment.

  “Hey, you two.” Eden had returned. Delysia blinked, trying to get her bearings.

  She saw Eden looking at her intently. When she locked eyes with the other girl, she was startled at the venom she saw there. Then Eden flashed her a smile and a small wink and thumbs-up. All yours, she mouthed, and Delysia wondered if she’d imagined it.

  She blinked and shook herself off, then looked up in time to see Nicky discreetly produce a packet from his inner pocket, shake out two tiny blue pills, and regard them with great interest before popping them onto his tongue and swallowing them dry. Yet another aspect of Nicky Kim she’d managed to forget. She had to give it to him, though—his microdosing had never made him sloppy. If one didn’t look at his pupils when he was far-gone, no one would ever know.

  She licked her lips. “Give me one.”

  Nicky looked at her, surprised. “I thought you didn’t—”

  “I don’t. Hand it over.”

  His look of surprise changed to one that was slightly diabolical; Delysia didn’t even care. If she couldn’t drive Alexander out of her head from sheer will, partying tonight like she never had before would take care of it.