The Paris Apartment (Love Nests Book 1)

by Sophia Karlson

  “It’s okay. I don’t need to know.” She let go of his hand and gathered her hair from her face. “She seems nice.” She dipped the fine point of her paintbrush in the water and shook it clean. “She mentioned we should go out one night. Clubbing.”

  His stomach clutched tight. “Clubbing.”

  She shrugged. “When Stacey’s here. She said we should all go out together.”

  For fuck’s sake. “Did she say where?”

  “No, but it doesn’t matter. I’m not going.” She arranged her painting things on the bedside table, making sure each brush was clean and dried. “Clubbing is more Stacey’s thing. She can go and enjoy it.”

  He got up and strode to the window, gathering his thoughts. The cat was not out of the bag yet. But he needed to do this, tell her, before she heard it from someone else.

  “That’s if we’re still here.” She met his gaze. “I was thinking a side trip to Versailles or Giverny would be nice.”

  “It would.” He leaned to the window, unlatched it and threw it open to let some fresh air in. His chest constricted, tightening with the pull of courage.

  “Mila,” he started.

  From the lounge there came a shriek. Then two. He turned to the door with a frown. Mila shoved her things to the side, her eyes wide. “That sounded—”

  “Just like Stacey.”

  He strode out of the room, Mila tailing him as the laughter and shrieks from the lounge intensified.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here!” Stacey’s voice said, followed by Marlène’s husky laughter.

  When he walked into the lounge Stacey and Marlène were hugging like old friends and doing a little turning dance in the process.

  Stacey opened her eyes over Marlène’s shoulder and seemed to freeze in Marlène’s arms. They stepped apart, Stacey’s eyes widening and a blush rising to her cheeks.

  “Jamie.” She bit her lip. “I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

  Her words curdled his stomach. Things were afloat that he hadn’t been aware of. “I live here.” His gaze jumped between Marlène and Stacey and settled again on his sister’s flustered face. “What are you doing here?”

  Stacey looked away. Arriving like this meant only one thing: she’d ditched rewriting her last exam, giving up the last chance to actually pass. He steeled himself and boxed the disappointment doused in anger that wanted to ignite. Instead, he stepped up and gave Stacey a kiss and a hug, if a bit stiffer than usual. He’d discuss her nonchalant attitude towards her studies when they were alone.

  When he let her go Stacey all but pounced on Mila, who’d stood quietly to the side. Mila avoided his gaze, whispering something in Stacey’s ear.

  He was outnumbered. Three to one. With the exception of his sister, the situation, which would have made him grin in the past, made him grimace. They were going to play musical chairs over beds. And no chance in hell that he would get involved.

  A fucking coward. That’s what he was.

  “We’ll talk later, Stacey.” No way she was getting out of that conversation. He looked at Mila, trying to convey to her that he was, what—sorry?—for the mess. “I’ll leave you ladies to catch up.”

  He shot a freezing glare at Marlène to warn her off. If she attempted to get Mila or Stacey even halfway involved in any of her shit she’d spend the night on the street with her heap of antiques.

  He turned to walk off.

  “Where’re you going, James?” Stacey asked, her tone rather strained.

  So they’d progressed to James. Good. Stacey knew she was knee-deep in trouble.

  “To the gym.” That edgy feeling was hovering over him like a close-range missile.

  chapter 32

  Mila stared at Stacey, probably mirroring her wide-eyed consternation. An awkward silence followed as they listened to James packing his things in his room. Marlène had gone after James, but if there was any conversation between them they couldn’t hear it.

  A minute later, he stomped past them, inclining his head mid-stride as if bowing. “Princesses.” His tone said everything. He was teasing them, maybe in an attempt not to sound as stern as he had minutes ago. Mila could not help but chuckle, but that only earned her a scathing look from Stacey.

  The front door closed and Mila let out a strained breath. “You should have warned me. To arrive out of the blue like this—”

  “What? You should have warned me.” Stacey pulled a dining room chair up and sank onto it. “I had no clue. If I had known James was here I would have stayed put.”

  “And actually finished your rewrites?”

  Stacey dropped her gaze. “When I told him about the rewrites three weeks ago he promised he’d be here next week instead. So we could get to see each other.”

  “When you were actually supposed to be here.” Mila sighed. Stacey hadn’t answered her question about finishing her exams. “What happened?”

  Stacey bit the tip of her forefinger nail. “James is seriously pissed off.”

  “What did you expect?” Mila still couldn’t believe Stacey had gone and pulled the plug on another opportunity. “What’s your dad going to say? He can’t keep footing your studies like this, Stacey.”

  “I need a drink.” Stacey got up and went to the kitchen.

  Mila shook her head but followed her. “You were going to tell them you failed, weren’t you? Without ever mentioning that you didn’t bother to take the rewrite?”

  Stacey pulled open the fridge and stared at its contents. “Really? There’s zero alcohol in the fridge.”

  “That’s what you get for showing up without warning.” The situation was grating against her. Stacey hadn’t answered her. Had she gone too far this time? And with her discussion with James the night before… Stacey had pulled the plug on her and James too.

  “I didn’t come here to fight with you, Mila,” Stacey whispered. “I just had to get away, okay?”

  Stacey was running. Mila had no idea why, from what or where to. She never used to be like this. Something triggered her to make the worst possible decision every single time.

  “Stacey, you can’t go on like—”

  Marlène walked into the kitchen, dressed in a pale pink satin pajama set. At the sight of her Mila’s muscles tensed from her toes to her shoulders, which hitched up an inch.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” said Stacey, hugging Marlène close. “We can make work of you and Jamie.”

  Mila bit her lip. Stacey still hankered after reconciliation between the two. As Stacey’s words percolated, a low warmth rose up Mila’s neck. The last thing Stacey would want to know was that she’d slept with James.

  Marlène smiled at Mila as she let go of Stacey. “Stacey has become like a sister to me. We haven’t seen each other since James broke up with me.” She sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too,” Stacey said, looking as if the world’s worries rested on her shoulders.

  Marlène sighed. “Give James time to cool off. He’ll come around.”

  “I don’t know if he ever will,” Stacey said and bit deep into her fisted knuckles. “I can’t carry on like this. I’m my own worst enemy.”

  “Sweetheart,” Marlène murmured. “We must get you out of this mood.”

  Mila met Marlène’s gaze, a shudder of foreboding trickling down her spine.

  “I’m knackered now, but let’s go out tomorrow night,” Marlène said. “Damien already said he will take us to his club.”

  “Really?” Stacey’s face lit up as if she was a four-year-old who got her first snow globe. “That would be awesome. We can take Jamie with and see what happens between you two.”

  Marlène laughed a naughty little chuckle that made her eyes sparkle. “Leave James out of it. I don’t want to drag a growly bear around Paris.”

  Stacey chuckled;
Marlène gave them both a top to toe inspection. “What are you going to wear?”

  “I did bring some things,” Stacey started.

  Marlène gave Mila the downward inspection. Again. The question was clearly aimed at her and not at Stacey.

  “Let’s raid my wardrobe,” Marlène threw out. “I haven’t worn anything in there for ages and it’s loaded with treasures.”

  Mila groaned inwardly. She wasn’t going. She cleared her throat. “You go ahead Stacey, clubbing’s not my—”

  Stacey grabbed her hand and tugged her along. “You’re coming with. Time to get a life and no better place to do so than in Paris.”

  A useless protest wanted to spill from her mouth, but Stacey clamped her down. “You owe me one, okay?”

  She couldn’t fight that logic. If it weren’t for Stacey she wouldn’t have had access to James’s apartment. She wouldn’t have been able to afford to be here in the first place. She was tired, not in the mood for a tiff either, and reluctantly caved in. “Okay, but I’m not getting drunk tomorrow night.” Mila hated drinking with the aim of getting smashed.

  Marlène smiled drily. “Damien’s club only serves champagne.”

  She tried not to groan in anticipation of the cost of one night out with the likes of Marlène. She could hardly afford fake bubbly, let alone the real thing.

  An hour later Mila had tried on more than ten outfits. All of them had made her wince. The amount of skin the dresses exposed, never mind each dress’s price tag, which was stationed on its hanger so that Marlène could keep track of which dress had cost her what, made her eyes bulge. It was too much.

  “I can’t wear this.” Mila couldn’t even breathe in it. The dress was too tight. “What if I spill wine on it?” It was a little white number, more fit for a slutty bride than a night in town.

  “That’s cute,” Stacey said, giving her the once-over. “But I preferred the red on you. And champagne doesn’t stain.”

  Mila rolled her eyes at Stacey, who rewarded her with a told-you-so stare.

  “The aim isn’t to look cute. The aim is to look sexy.” Marlène brushed her platinum strands from her face. “Tell me you have contact lenses?”

  Ugh. She should have known. “Yes.”

  “Wear them tomorrow.” Marlène gave her another skin prickling inspection. “You should wear the red Prada, and Stacey should wear this.” Marlène pulled a green slip dress from its hanger and handed it to Stacey.

  Mila unzipped the dress and stepped out of it with a deep inhale. She plunked down on the massive bed, exhausted and exasperated. Red it was. She’d been transported back to some traumatic middle school event which involved age-inappropriate clothes and going out with boys. Only this time it was the inverse—she wanted to cover up as much as possible, whereas Marlène wanted to get her as naked as possible.

  “Tell me that’s not the only underwear you have,” Marlène probed, eyeing her simple white underwear.

  She’d lost most of her inhibitions over the past hour. It was a miracle she’d managed to keep her panties on this long. Her bra was long gone with the number of midriff-exposing, naked-back things she’d been forced to try on.

  “Plain Jane,” Stacey murmured as she slipped into the little green number. “I’ll sort her out tomorrow.”

  “Oh no, seriously?” James hadn’t minded her plain cottons. His words were that they were fucking sexy. The memory made her smile, but she paused at the thought. Something else had shifted in her in the past hour. James had been with Marlène for years and now, having spent time with her, Mila knew she was no Marlène. Confident, sexy, in charge and knowing what she wanted. Sexed-up, without even trying.

  Next to her, Mila felt wilted. She missed James. Heavens. If it started like this, how was she to carry on when she went back home?

  Her feet were tired, her head spinning with the overdose of fashion. She picked up her own clothes and dressed.

  She wanted to go to bed but that posed a problem. With the apartment full, she had no idea who’d be sleeping where. James wasn’t back from the gym yet and hadn’t dictated who’d go where in his apartment. With the Marlène–and–Stacey duo on hand, it wasn’t her place to make decisions.

  “Where are we sleeping, Stacey?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

  Stacey shot her a brief glance, but Marlène’s gaze rested on her a moment too long for comfort.

  “In James’s room,” Stacey answered, as she zipped up the cocktail dress. “This just screams Valentino.” She sighed and turned to inspect her neat backside in the mirror.

  “Where’s James going to sleep?” The words slipped out before she realized the implication.

  “Where has he been sleeping?” Marlène asked and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her reaction. The glint in her eyes dared her to break the truth to Stacey. Damien must have told Marlène about the night he came over because Marlène knew she’d been sleeping with James.

  Stacey couldn’t ever know. It was a sickening feeling, to be in cahoots with Marlène.

  “Has he been here? With you?” Stacey eyed her.

  “We’ve been cohabiting in perfect harmonious… disinterest.” Dear Lord. Since when had lying become her forte? “He hasn’t slept here since I arrived.” Now she was lying to her best friend too.

  Stacey pouted and crunched her face to Marlène in what was her sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry, Marlène. I’d love…” She stalled. “We should do all we can to—”

  “My sleeper couch is in the lounge.” Marlène cut her off. “And there’s this double bed here. I’m not going to push him, Stacey.”

  Stacey shrugged, but her gaze dropped, filled with regret. “I’ll share his room with Mila and leave you two to sort things out.”

  Mila got up, glad that things were settled. She wanted to get out of Marlène’s company. But poor James; ousted to the sleeper couch in his own apartment. “Shouldn’t we take the sleeper couch?”

  “Maybe he won’t be here tonight.” She waved James off with her hand. “There’s two of us and only one of him.”

  Mila gave up. “Can we go fix up the furniture? I’d hate to kick him out of his bed and he is going to be home tonight, Stacey. You’re here.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence as Stacey digested this. Did she honestly think her brother was going to let her off the hook? “Okay. You’re right. Let’s go fix up the lounge.”

  She walked out of Marlène’s boudoir with Stacey right behind her.

  “The sleeper couch is awful. I’ve slept on it before,” Stacey said. “That would definitely prompt him to go snuggle up with Marlène.”

  The notion made Mila’s stomach turn. He had said he was over Marlène and had been quite exasperated with her when she’d kept on pushing the Marlène button. Maybe Stacey was having blurts of wishful thinking.

  Marlène came and helped them, directing them to put the furniture back in the original layout. Together they shoved everything into place, covering the pockmarks in the carpet where the chairs and sofas used to stand.

  They folded open the sleeper couch and Marlène fetched some linen and extra pillows. “I’ll leave you to it,” Marlène said, and with a sniff excused herself for the night.

  “We’ve made his bed.” Mila sighed as she dropped a puffed pillow in its place. She’d give anything to reverse the clock to the previous night. The way James’s kisses had made her feel was etched under her skin. Just the thought of him made desire ripple through her.

  Stacey chuckled and winked at her. “Now let’s hope he doesn’t sleep in it.”

  chapter 33

  When James got back to the apartment it was dark, only the city lights beaming through the windows to mark the furniture with ghostly shadows. As he entered the lounge, he eyed the sleeper couch, and noticing that it was empty, sighed with resignation. At least he’d had the foresight to
shower at the gym. Some windows were still open and he went over to close them. Stacey sat alone on the terrace, busy on her mobile, its light reflecting on her face.

  Both Mila and Marlène were nowhere to be seen and must have gone to bed. He should get this talk over with now, while he had a moment alone with his sister. As much as Mila was Stacey’s friend, he’d hate to take her to task in front of an audience.

  He opened the French door leading outside and Stacey looked up.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” she murmured, shifting in her chair.

  “No surprises there.” He should keep away from sarcasm, but he’d allow himself this one slip.

  “Don’t be mean, Jamie.”

  “Don’t be petulant, Stacey.” He checked his temper. “You’re going to get expelled at this rate. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

  “I… I don’t know, okay?” She dropped her phone on the side table and brushed her hair from her cheeks.

  Sometimes Stacey could be too much Millennial for him. Or maybe she was just completely lost. He stopped short of groaning. Somewhere along the line, Stacey had fallen through the cracks of his parents’ issues and all the shit that had mutated in between. She’d once been a stellar student, earning distinctions. Her promising future had gone up in flames after their mom’s passing.

  “I can’t support you if you go on like this.” He hated doing this, but it was for the best. “I won’t. I’m no longer funding your studies. Go find a job. Sort your head out.” He was one to talk.

  “Don’t cut me off, Jamie. Please.” Her voice constricted and she reached for his hand.

  He hugged her hand with his and wanted to let go, but she clung to him.

  “I don’t know how you got through it all unscathed, Jamie. How did you?”

  He couldn’t look her in the eye, he couldn’t admit to her how fucked up he really was. She’d always looked up to him, thinking of him as this infallible hero who could do nothing wrong. His lifestyle might have been his saving grace, but he couldn’t let Stacey go there… what kind of example would that be for her? One visual of his secret life and he would shatter, and she with him. He shrugged, failing to answer her.