The Allure of Julian Lefray

by R.S. Grey

  “Provisions?”

  He shook his head as he rotated his bike tire, checking for any damage from the ride.

  “No. Merch.”

  Josephine was supposed to have been on a date the night before; had Dean seen the guy she was with?

  “What—”

  “And before you ask,” he interrupted. “She was alone.”

  I frowned. “What do you mean? She was supposed to be on a date.”

  Dean pulled his foot up behind his leg, stretching out his quad.

  “I don’t know, man. When I saw her, she was sitting at the bar alone. I kept her company for a few minutes and then I had to get back to work.”

  Interesting.

  “And I invited her out on the boat with us this weekend.”

  My gaze shot back up to him. The asshole. “I was supposed to check out some properties with my agent on Saturday.”

  He smiled like the cat that caught the canary. “Guess you’d better reschedule. That is, unless you don’t mind if I take Josephine out without you?”

  I knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing. Dean wasn’t interested in Jo. He was interested in calling my fucking bluff.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I said, already reaching for my phone so that I could text my agent. “But I gotta run.”

  “Heading to visit your sister?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, she’s a few weeks into her program and she’s bored as hell. I try to stop by as much as I can.”

  He dropped his leg and stretched out his other quad.

  “The tabloids haven’t been hounding her, have they?”

  “Thankfully, no.”

  He shook his head. “I’m sure your mom has that all under control.”

  Dean and I had been friends for years, so he knew how our family operated.

  I arched a brow. “Lucy Lefray? Of course she does, and there’s already a contingency plan in place in case the media does find out.”

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  “We’re supposed to say she’s seeking treatment for exhaustion.” The vague lie reeked of Lucy Lefray. “But Lorena wouldn’t care if anyone found out she was seeking treatment for a drug problem. If anything, she’d be more embarrassed to admit exhaustion than drug use. Unfortunately, my mom doesn’t agree.”

  “Guess that’s the price you pay when you come from blue blood.”

  …

  The next day, Josephine and I were working in my hotel room, quietly typing away on our separate assignments. She was on the couch across from me and I found myself continuously trying to surreptitiously study her.

  Our morning had followed the same routine it had for the last three weeks: I ordered us breakfast, she fixed our coffee while I spread butter on our toast, then as soon as we were ready to work, she slipped off her high heels and tucked her feet up under her on the couch. It wasn’t the best working situation, but she’d been a trooper about it.

  “I promise I’ll find us an actual office soon,” I said as she readjusted on her seat for the hundredth time that morning. She glanced up from her laptop and smiled.

  “This is fine, I swear.” For a second it looked like she wanted to elaborate and then I caught a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Other than the day I found you in your skivvies, it actually hasn’t been that weird.”

  I laughed. “Yeah, I’m still expecting a lawsuit for that.”

  Since that first morning, I’d made it a point to always have my slacks, shirt, and tie on well before she arrived. One time could be written off as a mistake. Twice and she’d write me off as a weird-ass creeper.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t report you to HR or anything,” she joked.

  I smiled. “Should we hire an HR person next?”

  She scrunched her nose in distaste and shook her head. “How about we hire a personal chef instead?”

  “I like your moxie. You’re hired. Now go make us some manicotti.”

  She playfully dusted her nails on her blouse. “You couldn’t afford me.”

  I laughed and she bent forward to grab her coffee cup off the table. Another few inches of blouse spilled over the top of her computer screen. It was a cream silk top that brought out her recent tan. For just a moment, I let my gaze follow the elegant curve of her neck, down over her collarbone, and then lower. The top button of her blouse was open and the few inches of exposed skin there made it perfectly clear why Josephine was quickly becoming my favorite fantasy.

  I’d just pulled my gaze away when her phone vibrated on the table beside mine. I glanced down and read the caller’s name as it flashed across the screen before she snatched it up: Forest Financial.

  “Feel free to take it,” I offered.

  She shook her head and dropped her phone a few feet away from her on the couch, well out of her reach.

  “It’s okay. I’m right in the middle of setting up a Facebook page for the brand and I want to get it finished before lunch.”

  “I thought Lorena already had one,” I protested.

  Josephine turned her computer so I could see the screen. “She did, it’s just that she never finished setting it up and she hardly ever posted. No one even knew that it existed. I want to revamp it and then post some promotional content so we can start to build her presence there. I redid the top banner and added professional photos of her last line. We should be posting everyday so that everyone can stay up to date with the brand.”

  I mentally high-fived my past self for hiring Jo. Sure, she was funny and interesting and gorgeous, but also in just three weeks she’d managed to completely overhaul Lorena’s online presence. I knew the business side of things, but the creative end of the company was beyond my scope. We needed to hire a full marketing team, but for now Jo would work just fine. Besides, I kind of liked it being just the two of us.

  “What do you think?” she asked, hope brimming in her eyes.

  “It looks great,” I said, truly meaning it. The old version versus the new version was like night and day. The new version actually looked like a real brand. “Do you do the graphics for your blog as well?”

  She smiled wide and then glanced down to her computer. “Yeah. I took classes for it in college. I’m not a graphic designer or anything, but I know enough to get by.”

  I nodded. “I can tell. Your blog looks really professional.”

  She flicked her gaze up to me and then offered up a crooked smile. It was the sort of smile I gave my mom when I was about to beg for something.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “I have a favor to ask of you.”

  I tilted my head, interested in what she was about to ask for. The last time I’d mentioned a “favor” around her, it hadn’t gone so well. This time I was going to wait for her to speak first.

  “Would you mind helping me take a few photos for my blog? I want to do a few photos in Central Park.”

  Oh.

  That’s it?

  I opened my mouth to agree, but she spoke up quicker.

  “I promise if you help me then I’ll get you another one of those ice cream cones from the stand near the subway station.”

  Her pale green eyes looked so earnest. I’d have been a fool to say no.

  “Of course.”

  She smiled.

  “Really? That’d be so helpful—”

  She’d barely uttered the words before her phone started vibrating on the couch beside her. I wondered if it was Forest Financial again, but I was too far away to read the caller ID. She cursed under her breath, tossed her laptop aside, and stood to retrieve it.

  “I guess I should take this,” she said, shaking her head as she headed into my room.

  The door closed behind her and I went through a mental checklist of the embarrassing things she could find in there. I thought I’d picked up my dirty clothes that morning, but I couldn’t recall. Not to mention, there was about a fifty-fifty chance that I had a box of unused condoms sitting out on my nightstand. Yeah, that’s r
ight. Unused. Fuck. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d had a dry spell last this long.

  Back in Boston, this never would have happened. My “Little Black Book”—aka my iPhone—was jam packed with women that would have been enough for one night. Now? Now I had Josephine hijacking my every thought so that there wasn’t room for any other woman.

  I heard Josephine’s voice drift through the bedroom walls and I did my best to ignore it. She deserved some semblance of privacy.

  “Hi Ms. Buchanan—Yes, I did receive your message.”

  La la la, not listening.

  “No. No. I’m getting paid in two days and I will put all of that money toward this month’s payment. That’s the best I can do right now—”

  I paused my typing, too curious to pretend I wasn’t listening at that point. Was Josephine in some kind of money trouble? I tried to hear the remainder of her conversation, to decipher if she was talking to her landlord or someone else, but she must have moved away from the door.

  It didn’t matter. I’d heard enough.

  When she walked out a few minutes later, her paycheck was sitting inside an envelope next to her purse. She’d find it when she packed up for the day and I’d offer some excuse about needing to pay her early.

  She closed the door and puffed out a breath of air as if trying to calm herself down. Even still, she looked frazzled. She brushed her hair back away from her face and then tucked her phone into her back pocket with a touch too much force.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, doing my best to sound unbiased by what I’d just heard. A part of me wanted to ask her point blank if she was having money problems. I wanted to help her if she needed it, but I didn’t want to offend her either.

  “Yup,” she replied with a thin, fake smile. “Fine.”

  I was about to question her answer when she glanced up and met my eye. The emotion there warned me not to push the subject.

  “About this weekend,” she began.

  “What about it?” I asked.

  She rounded the back of the couch as a smile crept onto her face.

  “Does Dean have a margarita machine on that crazy-ass boat of his or are we going to have to stop and rent one on the way?”

  I burst out laughing. Even in the middle of a stressful morning, Jo had a way of surprising me.

  “Libations aplenty.” I grinned. “I promise.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  What Jo Wore

  Post #1257: A little help from my friends…

  Comments: 120 Likes: 1130

  Today’s post is a little different. I won’t be sharing any outfits or accessories with you guys. Instead, it’s confession time.

  My move to New York has been really hard. My parents weren’t thrilled with my decision to leave Texas (to put it lightly), and because of it, my mom and I haven’t talked in weeks.

  That’s never happened before.

  It’s hard not to think that maybe I’ve made the wrong decision in coming here, especially since I know how nervous they are about it. I’ll be honest, this city is NOT all sunshine and daisies. It’s stressful and intimidating. It’d be a lot easier if I had some family here, but I don’t. They’re all a billion miles away.

  New York was my dream and it still is. I’m not ready to give up on it yet.

  In the meantime, do you guys have any advice on how I should convince my parents that I’m doing the right thing? That just maybe I know what I’m doing?

  Let me know what you think.

  Until tomorrow,

  XOJO

  …

  Josephine

  On top of my have-to-do-something-soon-or-I’ll-be-homeless money problems, there was another issue weighing on my mind since I’d moved to New York: I hadn’t talked to my mom in weeks. Not once. She refused to accept my decision to move to New York and I knew if I called her, she’d try to convince me that I’d made a huge mistake by moving away from Texas.

  I’d assumed that she or my dad would have made more of an effort to keep in touch. I guess they thought I’d made my bed and now I had to lie in it. Well I’d be damned if I told them that my current bed was a used futon with a lumpy rock trying to pass itself off as a mattress. Every night I drifted off to the gentle sounds of my upstairs neighbors tromping around like a herd of elephants.

  It wasn’t perfect, but I was in New York and it’d take a lot more than a crappy bed to convince me to move back home. Like, oh, I don’t know…my mountain of student debt. I pushed the thought away as I started to get ready for a day out on the boat. There was no point in dwelling on it. I’d be okay for a little longer. Julian had paid me early and I’d put most of it toward my outstanding loan.

  I’d already started to look for another job, something I could do in the evenings. The night before, after a glass of $5 wine, I’d perused the pages of Craigslist, trying to stay away from the call girl ads in favor of something more suited to my degree.

  I’d had a hard enough time finding the position with Julian. The chances of finding another job that would allow me the flexibility to continue full time at Lorena Lefray were slim to none. Still, I’d made a mental note to search around for jobs when I got home that night. Dreams were fun and all, but I didn’t have the luxury of living in New York and pursuing mine scot-free. When I’d packed my bags and left for greener pastures, I’d known that my decision had come with strings attached. Unfortunately, it now looked like those strings were more like chains.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Josephine

  The moment we arrived at the marina, I realized I’d made a huge mistake. Julian punched in the private access code and two wrought iron gates stirred to life. A brick-paved drive lined with rose bushes led us toward the guest parking lot. Attendants in white oxfords and starched slacks zipped around on golf carts, helping guests at the marina and ensuring that everything was running as it should be.

  I stared out the window as I unclicked my seatbelt. Dread was already swimming in my stomach.

  “Uhhh, I thought we were going boating,” I said, focused on a group of gorgeous girls stepping out of a Mercedes SUV a few yards away from us. They might as well have been in ball gowns compared to my outfit.

  Julian peered over my shoulder and I turned to meet his eye. Whereas I probably looked like I’d just seen a ghost, Julian looked calm and collected.

  “We are,” he said.

  “No. We’re going yachting,” I said, pointing toward the rows of massive sailboats that lined the front of the marina. “Those girls are wearing designer dresses and high heels.”

  I was wearing a colorful, short cover-up over a royal blue bikini. I had on gold strappy sandals and I looked cute-as-fuck. Did I, however, look like I was about to go yachting with New York City’s upper elite? No. I probably would have fit in better at the Jersey Shore between Snooki and JWoww.

  Julian’s gaze drifted down, taking me in inch by inch, and then he smiled as he met my eyes once again.

  “I think you look great.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh please.”

  From our vantage point, I could see the guests who’d arrived before me. The women were definitely the ones from the SUV beside ours, and I could already see their layers of jewelry and vintage scarves from yards away. Gag me. I hadn’t realized I was spending the morning with the future Queens of England.

  “Normally in Texas, boating means taking a shitty boat out on the water and then docking it as soon as possible so that you can float around in the water and drink beer.”

  Julian smiled. “Ah, I see. I guess I should have mentioned that Dean has a yacht.”

  “Yes. I see that now, obviously. I look so out of place in this outfit. Apparently I should have put on some starched khakis.”

  Julian cracked up. “You look amazing. I promise.”

  “We both know why you’re saying that,” I offered with a pointed stare.

  I wasn’t an idiot. I’d been well-endowed since the age of thirteen. My chest had a way of
making even the most self-respecting men babble every now and then.

  He nibbled on his bottom lip for a second and then reached for the hem of his shirt. “All right, let’s swap outfits.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as laughter overtook me.

  “I’m fairly certain you’d look hideous in this bikini, but thanks for the offer.”

  I held up my hand, pleading with him to stop. The guests on the sailboat had surely seen us by now. We probably looked like weirdos just sitting in the car.

  I took a deep breath and pushed my insecurities aside. “It’s fine. I mean you’re wearing swim trunks, so it can’t be that bad that I’m in a bikini.”

  Julian nodded and hopped out of the car so he could get my door. He offered me a reassuring smile before grabbing the bag from my shoulder. I’d stuffed in a towel and some snacks in case Dean wasn’t one to provide food. There was no way I’d last all day out on a boat without some Cheez-Its to hold me over.

  We continued on toward Dean’s boat. The closer we got, the more I realized just how large it was. A family of ten could have easily lived on the damn thing and I bet Dean took it out maybe five times a year, tops. Jeez.

  Julian ushered me toward the bridge that connected the dock to the yacht, but before I could step forward, he reached out for my elbow to stop me. I stared down at his hand and then looked up to see him concealing a devious smile.

  “I’ll be honest,” he said with a smirk. “I knew you’d be underdressed as soon as I picked you up.”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  “And you didn’t tell me to change?” I asked.

  “I decided I’d rather be selfish,” he answered, finally releasing the mischievous grin he’d been doing his best to hide. Julian wanted to see me in a bikini. What a stupid turd.

  “You suck, Julian,” I said, turning so quickly I almost ran directly into Dean’s chest.

  I hadn’t even realized he was so close.

  “Here here,” Dean said, holding his beer in the air to show his agreement.