“No need to look so frightened,” she began when she reached me. “I don’t blame you. But don’t worry, I’m not about to cause another scene.”
I cast my mind back to the last time I’d seen her —slumped, dead drunk, in one of the toilet stalls at that charity fundraising ball.
She held up something and round and silver, which she jiggled at me: a circular key ring, with a triangle design etched into it.
Of course. Alcoholics Anonymous.
“Two months sober,” she whispered, shooting me a sly wink.
“That’s great!” I replied, honestly glad to see that she was doing something about her drinking. Based on the last few times I’d seen her, it had obviously become a real problem.
“Well there’s no denying it,” she continued, holding her palms out to me in a gesture of open honesty, “I was a total bitch, wasn’t I? Don’t worry. You can say it.”
“Well,” I began uneasily, still wary in case she suddenly reverted back to the old Marianne. “You were rather … difficult at times, I guess?”
“No, Jessica. I was a complete nightmare. I was vicious, controlling and mean,” Marianne corrected, her old venom returning for a half-second, only this time it wasn’t directed at me — it was directed at herself.
“This is step nine of the program, you understand,” she continued. “Make amends to the people you’ve harmed. And you were one of those people, I realize that now. And it wasn’t just because of the booze, either. It was that old green-eyed monster, too. You had real talent, I knew it all along. But I just wasn’t prepared to let you shine.”
I nodded, completely speechless. Never in a zillion years would I have expected to hear Marianne tell me anything other than how useless and stupid I was. And here she was actually admitting she was jealous of me? This was just too much to take in.
“You’ve made a fantastic job of this place,” she said, gesturing around the room then touching me gently on the shoulder, her eyes softening once again. “You should be really proud.”
“Thank you,” I croaked, still a little dumbstruck.
“I’ll leave you to enjoy your party,” she said, leaning in to plant a warm kiss on my cheek. “In fact, isn’t that Claudia VanDrysden over there? I’ve got something to say to her, too. It’s funny, but Step Nine seems to be taking me an awfully long time ...”
And with that she was gone, turning and making her way off into the bustling throng.
Well that was … unexpected.
As I watched Marianne walk off, for once steady on her Jimmy Choos, I felt the crowd melting away and for a moment – and I know how silly this sounds – but I felt like I was watching this whole thing on television, like everyone here was a member of some over-the-top, glitzy daytime soap opera. Because this world was really like nothing I’d ever imagined. Even now that I felt kind of at home in it, I was still shocked by the sheer opulence of it all: the money, the clothes, the splendor. And the thing about Blake was, I knew he could seem kind of like a fantasy guy, and I knew that he was a fantasy for many women – after all, I’d seen exactly what they said about him on the internet – but he was never my fantasy. Maybe I just didn’t have the imagination, but a guy like Blake wasn’t on my radar.
But I did have one fantasy. I’d always had it.
In this fantasy, I’m talented and successful and I have the admiration of my peers. And for all the hurt, all the pain that Marianne had caused me over the years, she’d accidentally just fulfilled it.
I smiled and took a deep breath, feeling my chest swell with genuine pride. Because that girl, that talented and successful woman, she didn’t need to fantasize about a man like Blake Matthews. She could just walk straight over to him, right now, and put her hand on his arm. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.
As I made my way over, he caught my eye and shook his head apologetically. “I’m so sorry,” he began, as he handed me a baby-blue Bellini (Mermaids’ new signature drink), “if I’d known Marianne was here, I would have had security remove her immediately. Let me do that for you now ...”
“No, no,” I replied. “There’s no need to do that. In fact, we’ve just had the most lovely little chat.”
Blake looked puzzled at my response, and while part of me wanted to tell him all about Marianne’s stint in AA, another part of me realized just what a brave thing that must have been for her, and I didn’t want to gossip, so I just left it at that.
“This place is absolutely amazing, Jessica,” Elizabeth cut in, stepping across to give me a congratulatory squeeze. “I know Max and Andy’s tastes can be a little … off the wall at times, so to have transposed their essence to something so fun, so palatable, so universal, well, it’s a triumph! You should be really proud!”
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” I said. “That means a lot, coming from you. And thank you for the thousandth time for recommending me.”
After all the stress of last night, I could feel myself finally beginning to calm down a little — because it was actually going okay, wasn’t it? The launch night wasn’t a complete disaster! And sure, some of that was down to my design. But without Josh’s help, this whole thing would have been a mess …
Josh …
Again, I remembered the feel of his lips, so soft against my own, and that playful, boyish spark glinting in his eye as we’d laughed and joked, late into the night.
“It’s amazing, Jessica,” Blake added, softy, his low sonorous voice bringing me back to reality but at the same time causing me to melt once again. “I always knew you were good, and obviously I love the work you did in my apartment. But this place, well it couldn’t be more different. I didn’t know you were quite so versatile.”
Oh, Blake …
Who was I kidding? I was in a deeper mess than ever.
“Thank you,” I said, smiling shyly at him, afraid to meet his eye, in case … what? I fell for him any deeper?
I don’t think that’s even possible.
“Listen, Jessica,” Elizabeth continued, “I’m still interested in having you come take a look at my summerhouse in the Hamptons, see if you can work a little more of your magic on it. How’s your schedule looking?”
I still felt uncomfortable about having lied to Max and Andy, implying I was too busy to answer their initial email. This time round, I’d decided honest was definitely the best policy.
“Pretty clear,” I said truthfully. “I’d love to, Elizabeth.”
“Well, I’m still up to my eyeballs in work, so I’m afraid I can’t show you around myself. But why don’t I just give you the key and you can go down one day, take a look at the place on your own, see if you think you can do something interesting with it? It’d be a day’s work of course, so I’d be happy to pay your daily rate for a consultation?”
“That sounds awesome,” I replied.
“I’ve got a better idea,” Blake cut in. “It’s been too long since I’ve been to the Hamptons. Why don’t I come down with you and we can make a whole weekend of it?”
With this last suggestion, he caused both Elizabeth and I to turn and look at him in surprise, as if we were both thinking the exact same thing: did we just hear Blake Matthews publicly suggest that he wanted to take a whole weekend away with me?!
“In fact, why don’t we go this weekend?” he continued, blissfully unaware. “I could drive us in the Ferrari …”
“Are you sure?” I murmured, a little taken aback, feeling myself blush, as I felt Elizabeth reassessing us curiously. “Just that I know you’re really busy at the moment and …”
“No, I’d love to,” he said decisively, smiling first at me, then at Elizabeth, obviously wanting her to know that there was definitely something more going on between us. “You’ll understand this, Elizabeth. Part of what makes me so good at my job is the ability to delegate. And what I need right now is a weekend away with someone as creative and talented as Jessica.”
Elizabeth beamed back approvingly, almost motherly, nodding to hers
elf. “Oh Blake,” she said with a wistful smile, her eyes misting over a little. “Do you know, I don’t think I’ve seen you down in that neck of the woods in years. In that case, it’ll be quite a trip down memory lane for you, won’t it? I remember when you were just a teenager, you and Brett Carter, getting up to mischief!”
At this, Blake laughed and shook his head, a little embarrassed — that boyish streak I found so fascinating once more shining through, bright and strong as a ray of sunlight.
“Didn’t you boys drink almost a whole bottle of Brett’s father’s bourbon?”
Blake laughed again, a soft blush rising to his cheeks now. “Don’t remind me!” he groaned. “His prize bottle of Perry Van Winkle, no less. I dread to think of the cost of the liquor we wasted that night. And then, once we were good and drunk, I think we managed to wake up practically the whole house by starting a tennis match at three in the morning.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of Blake being young and naive and reckless, just like any regular carefree teenager. But even as I was still giggling at the thought, I watched a darkness descend across his face, the smile quickly dropping from his lips and his eyes clouding over.
“Of course, that was the summer before Brett’s accident,” he said quietly, his somber tone slicing through the hectic chatter and hubbub of the restaurant like a knife.
“I’m so sorry, Blake,” Elizabeth said gently. “I should’ve known not to mention him. How insensitive of me. I forget how much that must have hurt you …”
“Excuse me,” he interrupted, turning purposefully away from us, his brow furrowing in anger, as he strode off across the restaurant.
Wow - okay, so Elizabeth upset you.
But even so, Blake, that’s a pretty rude way to behave …
And once more, watching him act like that, I realized just how different we must be. Blake’s life was obviously one of privilege — he’d grown up a spoilt brat, allowed to do whatever he chose, behave however he wanted, and at moments like this it was obvious that he still believed he could treat people however he wanted.
“Poor Blake,” Elizabeth said to me, quietly. “They were best friends, you know. Inseparable. Do you know what, Jessica? I think it might be good for him to go back there with you, for him to forget about the past and hey, perhaps even create some new memories …”
I smiled shyly, knowing just what she was getting at — hinting, gently but firmly, just as Blake had done, that there was something more than just business between us. I looked away for a moment, across the teeming restaurant floor, but what I saw then caused me to actually gasp.
Because standing there, talking face to face with Blake, was Alex Wiltshire.
Seeing him again, his horrible leering mouth, his slick wet chin, his outdated shiny suit, brought back all the memories of that night — memories I’d buried deep down inside myself. I could feel his hot breath on my skin once again, his rough insistent hand snaking between my legs, and the sickening stench of cigar smoke clinging to him like a horrible black cloud.
I watched closely, realizing with relief that Blake was shaking his head in barely concealed anger, obviously keeping as composed as he could, but it was clear he was telling Alex – in the sternest way possible – to get the hell out of here.
Alex, meanwhile, was swaying around drunkenly, leaning in to Blake, trying to clap a conspiratorial hand on his shoulder. But to my relief, Blake had none of it. He brushed Alex’s hand off him, then took him firmly by the arm and marched him towards the exit.
Thank God.
And as Alex was ejected onto the street, Elizabeth leaned in to me and whispered in my ear, “I’m glad someone finally told that creep where to go. He’s been getting away with far too much for far too long.”
Elizabeth shuddered, and I realized that maybe I wasn’t the only one who’d suffered unwanted advances from that disgusting creep Wiltshire.
I’d just about composed myself again by the time Blake rejoined us, and when I saw his smiling face, I realized with embarrassment that of course it had been the sight of Alex — not Elizabeth’s mention of his past — that had caused him to storm off in the first place.
“I’m so sorry about that,” he said to both of us. “Where were we? Oh, that’s right, Elizabeth, we were getting Jessica up to speed on all the scandalous things that have happened over the years, weren’t we? Have you told her about the time old Charlie Cross got the wrong room and ended up sleeping with his own wife for once …”
And as we laughed and joked, Blake entertaining us with stories from his past, I felt myself falling once more beneath his spell.
CHAPTER NINE
“It’s certainly … unique,” Blake said, stifling a smirk.
“I’ve really got my work cut out for me, haven’t I?” I replied, taking in the decor of Elizabeth’s summerhouse in the Hamptons.
The whole place was an insane mish-mash of styles and time periods: Roman columns sat next to leopard print rugs, camp hot-pink walls next to swirling marble floors, and to top it all off, the centerpiece was a corny sunken living room — something that wouldn’t look out of place as a set from a cheesy 70’s soap opera. If there was one overarching theme, it was that the whole place was tacky.
I would have to completely start again from scratch. It would be a huge job, taking months, and not just of my time; I’d definitely need to hire an assistant if I was to take on a job this big. And I shuddered at the thought of how much it might cost to redesign a place like this from the ground up. But from what Blake had told me about Elizabeth, she could more than afford it.
“So?” Blake asked. “Think you’ll do it?”
“She’s not actually asked me yet,” I reminded him gently, unsure whether or not Elizabeth had other potential designers in mind, too. It was a big job; I’m sure she’d want me to submit an official proposal.
“She really likes you, I can tell,” he replied. “This job is yours if you want it.”
“That would be great,” I smiled, “but I’m not sure the world works like that.”
But then I remembered: all it had taken for Blake to hire me was a single outburst in a boardroom ... People in this world obviously made their own rules.
“Let’s see if this old thing still works,” Blake said, crouching down next to the large ornate fireplace. “It’s absolutely freezing in here.”
He was right; it was bone-chillingly cold. Whenever I’d dreamt about visiting the Hamptons, I’d always pictured it in a kind of perpetual summer. But the truth was, here in in Southampton it was still the depths of winter — the icy cold slowly creeping into this large un-lived-in house.
“There!” Blake said, delighted, as he got a couple of small pieces of firewood to catch flame.
It was nice to watch him, crouched like a boy scout by the fire, and again I found myself wondering once more about his past — about the kind of boy he’d been back then. I wandered over to join him by the fire, taking a seat on the large white tacky sheepskin rug, there in front of the glowing, flickering warmth.
“So how did Elizabeth end up with this place?” I asked, once again looking around the crazy, mismatched living room in disbelief.
“I’ve known her since I was a kid,” Blake explained. “But back then, she spent her summers in a much smaller house, just a little ways down the road. That was her family place. The O’Connors have had it for generations. They still own it and rent it out, I think. The family’s always been well off — blueblood through and through — but man! In the last few years, Elizabeth’s hedge fund really took off. Hence buying this property. I advised her on the investment, in fact. She got a really good deal. I knew the couple who used to own it before her, too. Well, kind of. He made his money in steel ... and his wife?”
He whistled and shook his head.
“Let’s just say that all the boys in the neighborhood hoped for glimpses of her sunbathing in her bikini.”
“Shame she didn’t have any taste wh
en it came to interior design,” I added.
“No, she didn’t. But she also got a really good deal. He gave her this place in the divorce settlement. But soon enough she got bored and sold up to move to LA, to try and make it in the movies. Last I heard, she was paying some poor schmuck producer to write a star vehicle for her.”
“So how about you?” I asked. “Where was your family’s summerhouse?”
I could feel my heart quickening as I spoke, partly from his steely grey eyes, which I suddenly realized were fixed intently on me, and partly because I knew I was delving deeper into his past than perhaps I ever had before.
“Oh, my family didn’t actually own property here,” he shrugged. “I always came with Brett, you see.” And as he mentioned his friend, a strange expression flashed across his face, the exact same one I saw back at Mermaids, when Elizabeth brought Brett up.
What actually happened with Brett?
And so badly I wanted to just ask him — to find out what it was about his friend that had obviously wounded him so. All I knew was that there was an ‘accident’ of some sort.
I shuffled up a little closer to him, and he reciprocated, throwing his arm around me, the comforting, familiar musk of his cologne sending my head into a whirl the way it always did. I snuggled into him, partly for warmth and partly because … Well, partly just because I wanted to.
There was no getting away from it: even surrounded by possibly the tackiest décor on the planet, here in front of this open fire, it was actually kind of romantic.
“You can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?” I whispered softly, running my fingers through his thick dark hair, hoping my gentle tone might prompt him to divulge a little more information about Brett.
He turned his face towards mine, his eyes flashing in the flickering firelight as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face then cupped my chin in his hand, turning my face up to his.
Taming Blake (A New Adult Romance): The Complete Trilogy Page 33