by Geneva Lee
“Me either,” I said.
“Are you ready to shop?” she asked.
I nodded, stifling the urge to groan. I was going to need another massage after spending the day shopping under my mother’s critical eye. Pocketing my phone, I smiled at her. “Lead the way.”
A few hours and a small fortune later, we stopped to meet my sister for lunch. The afternoon crowd at Hillgrove’s consisted mostly of ladies who lunch, like my mother, and a few tourists who were busy snapping pictures of their high tea sandwich assortment. My mother gave them a distasteful look, adjusting the brim of her Stephen Jones hat while we waited for my younger sister to join us. Our shopping bags were piled on an empty seat and Mom had taken the liberty of ordering already. Just as she had taken the liberty of choosing a dozen new dresses for me. I’d managed to convince her to let me pay, and I’d even gone so far as to buy a few pairs of heels. Although I wasn’t likely to get much use wearing them around the office of Peters & Clarkwell, but since my social life had taken a surprising upturn last Friday, I knew I’d have plenty of opportunities to wear them.
I hadn’t even fought her when she thrust a selection of short, sexy dresses at me in Yves St. Laurent.
“I’m so glad you picked up some new things,” she said, sipping a martini. Most of the women here were drinking out of teacups, but Mom was on her first cocktail. It was the little things that showed she was American still, whether she liked it or not.
“I want to make a good impression at my new job.” I shrugged as if this was perfectly obvious. I didn’t tell her that at least half of the things I’d purchased I planned to wear for Alexander. I kept this to myself not only because I wasn’t ready to tell her I was seeing him, but also because I wasn’t sure how long the relationship would last. Alexander and I had struck a tenuous agreement—one I wasn’t entirely comfortable with—and I didn’t think my mom would understand that I was screwing him with no commitment on his part. Exclusivity meant nothing to her if it wasn’t coupled with a diamond on the finger.
“And you’ll look fabulous on dates,” she said.
“Sorry I’m late!” My sister Charlotte said, arriving in time to save me from Mom’s curiosity regarding my love life. She flashed us a winning smile as she dropped her purse on the floor and took a seat.
Dressed in a sleeveless cream-colored shell that hung loosely over black leggings, Charlotte looked as if she’d stepped from the pages of a fashion magazine. The ensemble might have been plain on someone without her eye for style, but she’d paired it with a chic, yellow scarf and gold studs. She pushed her large, movie star sunglasses up to hold back the dark hair that waved over her shoulders.
“How was your meeting, Lola?” our mother asked, calling her by her pet name.
“Fine. Over.” Lola shot me a conspiratorial wink, and I did my best not to groan. I’d had no doubt that her sudden scheduling conflict had more to do with sleeping off a late night than the cushy summer internship she’d landed at a marketing firm in Chelsea.
“We’re just glad you’re here now.” Mom patted her arm.
“What did I miss?” Lola asked.
“I was telling Mom about my new job.”
Lola blinked, the smile still plastered on her face. “Oh.”
My mother didn’t seem to notice Lola’s obvious lack of interest. She smiled broadly as the waiter brought a selection of tea sandwiches to us on a tall tray. Picking one up, she bit into it delicately. “But I was really curious about whether Clara is seeing anyone.”
There was a slight break in her voice, which gave away her true feelings. I had to give her credit, she’d managed to avoid bringing up the recent scandal I’d been involved in the whole morning. That had to be some kind of record. But with Lola here, I’d expected the subject to come up sooner rather than later. I considered her question, taking a large bite of a cucumber sandwich to buy me some time. If I continued to see Alexander, it was very likely I’d find myself on the cover of another gossip rag. But Alexander was being discreet about our relationship, and there was no reason to suspect anyone might find out if we continued our cloak and dagger routine. Plus, we had Norris. Alexander had made it clear that our relationship wasn’t going further than dating and sex. If there was no future, why should I tell her? I ignored the flutter of anxiety that thought produced in my stomach.
“No,” I lied. “Although Belle has her sights on every single man she knows.”
“Annabelle is a good friend,” Mom said. “You’re so lucky to have her.”
Actually, I was lucky to have her around, even if my mother didn’t know the real reason. Belle was such a good friend because it meant I didn’t have to hide my true relationship to her. She wasn’t going to tell anyone, but it also meant I didn’t have to put up with her blind dates.
“I saw in the papers that you were seen with Alexander again.” Lola fluttered her lashes innocently as she abandoned her sandwich in favor of her newly-arrived martini.
I swallowed hard and took a long drink of water. Of course, she would have seen the photos from Friday night outside of Brimstone. “I agreed to meet him. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” My mother laughed, shaking her head. “My daughter met the Prince of England, but no big deal.”
“He’s just a man,” I said, hoping she couldn’t see through my lie.
“He’s far from just a man,” Lola opined. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in the world.”
The vibration of an incoming text betrayed me, and my mother’s eyes flickered to my mobile. Obviously she’d been aware of the number of text messages I had received today. I grabbed it and dropped it in my purse.
“That man is going to rule this country some day,” Mom said in a soft voice.
“Mom, we’re really more of a democracy,” I reminded her. “Maybe I should set my sights on Parliament and sleep my way through them.”
Lola choked on her martini, but Mom’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t be filthy, Clara. Is it wrong that I want to know details? You don’t tell me anything about your life. I only read about it in the papers.”
“There’s nothing to tell. He asked me to meet so he could apologize.” At least I wasn’t lying about that part. They didn’t need to know I’d spent Saturday in his bed. Memories clouded my head for a moment and I was brought back to the present by the vibration of another text message. I snatched my phone out of my purse and read it.
I need to have my mouth on you. I need to make you come.
.My thighs clenched together at the thought and I had to shake my head a little to clear my thoughts. Now’s not the time for this, I reminded myself. Mom was already suspicious, and when I looked up, her eyebrow was raised.
“Who’s been texting you today?” she asked.
I turned to my sister, hoping for some distraction, but Lola was glued to her own mobile. I obviously couldn’t count on her to come to my aid.
“Belle. She’s having a fight with Philip.” I hated lying. Now I’d gone and sullied my best friend’s relationship, but if anyone wouldn’t mind, it would be Belle.
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” Mom sipped her martini, her eyes still on me. I didn’t think I imagined the double meaning to her words. She didn’t believe me. She knew something was going on with Alexander, but how far would she press the issue? I needed our relationship to be secret for a while, even from her. At least until I’d figured out what our relationship was exactly. Without that, I wasn’t certain I was strong enough to continue seeing him.
“It’s not,” I reassured her.
“Good.” She gestured to our server for another drink. “Because I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said with a sigh, somewhat relieved that we weren’t skirting the issue any longer.
“I want you to be taken care of, Clara, but a man like Alexander...you’re too fragile for him.”
I gripped my fork and stared past her. She meant well, she always did, but th
at didn’t mean that I wasn’t tired of hearing how breakable I was. “I’m not a child anymore.”
“I didn’t say you were. But Clara, you’re fiercely independent,” she said gently, “so much so that you don’t always see what the rest of us see.”
“You mean Daniel?”
“Daniel, and other things.”
I couldn’t hold back a sigh. “I’m healthy, Mom. That was a long time ago.”
“Clara, darling.” She stretched her hand across the table and took mine. “I want you to stay healthy. You’re an adult now. Just be sure that your decisions are made with your head and not your...heart.”
I hated to think she might be right. Hadn’t my head been warning me away from Alexander all along? I’d let myself be led around by my body, and somehow now my heart had gotten mixed up in this mess too. But the last person I could talk about this with was my mother. Alexander made me feel alive. In university, I’d been focused on my studies or Daniel. I’d learned to push down my emotions and lock them away so that I could make it through the day. And I’d hated it. Graduation had been about more than a degree. It has been about liberation, and the arrival of Alexander into my world had reawakened me to life, even if it had been primarily on the physical level.
My father had been protecting my mother from feeling too much for years. She couldn’t possibly understand.
“Excuse me, I need the loo.” I stood, surreptitiously pocketing my phone.
“I’ll go with you,” Lola said.
“I guess I’ll stay here with the sandwiches,” Mom snapped, obviously aware that I was avoiding this topic.
“I’m sure the gin will keep you company,” I said sweetly.
Lola followed me to the bathroom, chattering away about her weekend and her hangover and some boy she’d brought home. The basics filtered in but my thoughts were elsewhere.
As soon as we were in the bathroom, I found a stall. Shutting the door behind me, I checked my messages.
I need to hear you crying my name as I fuck you.
Yes, please, I thought in reply. I heard the words spoken with his deep voice as I read them, tinged with a rasp that betrayed his physical yearning. It had barely been forty-eight hours since the last time I’d been with him, but I ached with desire reading his message.
I shot back a response.
But how can I scream your name with my mouth busy sucking you off?
A trio of responses arrived lightning-fast.
You won’t know until you’ve tried.
Christ, I’m so fucking hard for you.
Finish eating and get your pretty ass over to me.
When I emerged from the stall, Lola was leaning against the bathroom counter. “So who’s really texting you?”
“Belle,” I said, deciding it was best to stick with my lie, especially since Lola held the world record when it came to gossip. She continued to watch me as I washed my hands and checked my makeup.
“You’re glowing,” she accused.
I bit back a grin and shrugged.
“Who screwed that smile onto your face?” she pushed. “C’mon, you have to tell me. We’re sisters!”
“I don’t kiss and tell.” I headed for the door, but she blocked me.
“Was it Alexander?” she asked.
I went around her, ignoring her question. It was best to neither confirm nor deny, and I didn’t know if I could pull off a convincing lie when it came to the subject of Alexander and sex. That was something I was definitely going to have to work on.
Lola pouted the rest of lunch, ganging up on me when Mom brought up the subject of dating.
“And your father says that his new associate is single,” she told me. “He’s working on an app that allows you to follow people all over the world and text them.”
“Sounds like Twitter,” I said dismissively. There was no way I was going on a blind date with one of my father’s web developer friends.
“Clara’s seeing someone,” Lola said. She took a bite of cookie and smiled smugly as she chewed.
“You said you weren’t!” Mom looked at me accusingly.
“And I’m not. Not really,” I added.
“What about you, Lola?” Mom asked, and the two of them fell into a discussion about the numerous men vying for my sister’s affection.
“I do hope your sister meets someone nice soon,” Mom said to her when they’d finished their gossip.
“I had a lovely afternoon,” I said, shifting the topic away from my personal life. Flattery always distracted her.
Her hand clutched at her necklace in mock humility. “It was nice, wasn’t it? We need to see more of each other now that you’re out of school. Your father is working all the time. I’ve been lonely.”
“I start work on Friday,” I reminded her for the tenth time today.
She hesitated then took a deep breath. “You know you really don’t need to work. At least not doing something like social work.”
I flinched at the audacity of her suggestion. I knew she disapproved of my choice of vocation, but this was the first time she’d really suggested that I not work.
“You’re worth twenty million pounds,” she said in a low voice, so that the other diners couldn’t hear her. “You don’t need to work.”
How could I explain to her that she was the reason that I needed to work? I’d watched my mother flit from charity event to charity event for years. She’d been deeply involved with the start-up when I was a baby, but as soon as it sold, she’d abandoned the notion of needing a job altogether. I had been too little to really know much about my mother before her and my father had sold their online dating site, partner.com, for two hundred million dollars in the mid-90s, but I’d heard stories. She’d been ambitious once, and she’d given it all up for a life of shopping and lunch dates. I might not have known my mother back then, but I knew her now and it didn’t take much to see she wasn’t happy. “I’d rather use my degree.”
My degree was my one trump card, the one thing my mother always agreed with. The thing she felt I had to have to succeed in life. Maybe because it was the only thing that Madeline Bishop didn’t have and couldn’t buy.
“Of course, you would,” she said, her eyes growing glassy. She looked away, pulling back her hand and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. How would things be different if she’d graduated herself? “And when you finally meet the right man, you won’t have to worry about money.”
That struck me as an odd thing to say. I know her and dad had struggled the first few years of their marriage, but at least they’d been happy. It was strange that she couldn’t see how unhappy she was now that she had money. Of course, she was right. I would never have to worry about money. It was a bit of a relief, even if the money sometimes felt unwelcome. I’d toyed with giving it all away before, but there were provisions that prevented that in the trust fund arrangement. I wouldn’t have full custody over the money until I turned twenty-five.
After the bill was paid, we rose to say goodbye. My mother flung her arms around me in an awkward show of emotion, which I wasn’t fully comfortable with, but I accepted the gesture all the same.
“Call me and tell me how your first day goes,” she said as she collected her bags from La Mer and Louis Vuitton.
“I promise.”
“Lola.” Mom shifted her attention to my younger sister. “I picked up your eye cream.”
We walked out of the restaurant together, and I braced myself as soon as we hit the front door, but there were no reporters outside. Mom squeezed my arm and gave me a knowing smile, before she kissed my cheek and got into a waiting taxi.
As soon as it pulled away from the curb, Lola slipped her sunglasses on. “Have a fun afternoon.”
“I’m heading home to an empty flat.” I paused, at war with myself, before forcing myself to add, “You could come over.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something more interesting to do,” she said suggestively, pushing her sunglasses down to shoot me a
wink.
I clutched my phone and shook my head as she walked away. She wasn’t sprinting into adulthood, she was crashing into it.
The weather in London had started to grow warmer, so despite my collection of shopping bags, I decided to walk to the Tube. I could only imagine what my mother would think of that, but it seemed silly to take a cab all the way to East London, and the weather was gorgeous. In a few more weeks, summer would arrive bringing heat and stickiness along with it. I might as well glory in the few remaining days of spring we had left.
My purse vibrated and a thrill ran from my head to my toes when I saw it was another message from Alexander.
I need to see you now. The Westminster Royal.
At least my job wasn’t starting until Friday, which meant I could play as much as I wanted to now, and I’d been waiting all day for Alexander to ask for something more concrete. His texts had kept my body humming with barely repressed sexuality this afternoon. Now he was going to make good on that, and I couldn’t wait. I could use the stress relief after a day with my mom too. I texted him back and changed my direction, heading to the hotel where I’d last seen him. I couldn’t keep a somewhat silly grin off my face as I walked. Thankfully, I’d gotten made up for a day shopping with my mom, although I suspected Alexander would like me in anything. My phone alerted me to an incoming message and I checked it, excitement turning my stomach over. I would be with him soon. I would feel his hands on me soon. But when I saw the text, my heart dropped.
Belle: I think you should see this.
Chapter Eleven
I read the post twice while standing in the lobby of the Westminster Royal, but it was the attached image that I couldn’t get out of my head. Alexander’s arms were around a beautiful blonde woman, the kind of woman that would make any other woman irrationally jealous. There had been no effort to hide it. Whoever had snapped this photo had been close enough to capture the full spectrum of what had been going on. I’d seen her before, in other photos that Belle had shown me, but the worst part was that from this angle I knew without a doubt that she was the woman Alexander had dismissed as a past mistake on that fateful day at the Oxford and Cambridge Club. She was obviously someone important because the caption read: Alexander spotted once again with the stunning Pepper Lockwood. She was all legs and blonde hair and bee-stung lips. She looked like a model, and her golden blond beauty complimented Alexander’s dark hair and muscular build.