Gilded Lily

by Hart, Staci

  Disappointed but unwilling to push, I said, “She found anything?”

  “Nothing. But the night is young. How about you? Everything going okay?”

  “Fine,” I answered, unnerved by the stunted silence and superficial chitchat so unlike us. “Well, I’d better get back. Just wanted to check on you.”

  “I’m glad you did,” she said with a smile, genuine and warm and reassuring. But it wasn’t enough to quell my doubts.

  The two of us were caught in a dance, a farce. Only I couldn’t do what needed to be done to dispel it. I couldn’t kiss her, couldn’t sweep her away. Couldn’t make a space safe enough for her honesty. Because this, her keeping something from me, was uncommon and unfamiliar. She’d never hesitated to tell me anything, even at events, even under the gun. She always found a quick moment to make a joke or admit her worry.

  And that made it feel like she was hiding something.

  As I strode away to find refuge in the ballroom, my thoughts seesawed, taking turns kicking off and floating down. She would tell me. But she’d kept something from me. She cared about me. But she’d cared about him for longer. She’d said she didn’t want that life. But she’d chased that life for most of hers. Every positive had a negative to pull it back to the ground like gravity. But I kept pushing, hoping at some point that other, worried part of me would tire out and leave me on the high.

  Trust her, I told myself.

  And that was the thought I held on to, no matter how terrified I was of gravity.

  24

  Best Laid Plans

  LILA

  The ceremony came and went in a rush of silk and heels and flowers, the procession perfect, the vows exchanged, the rings slid onto waiting fingers. The best and worst thing about the Felix sisters was this—their entire lives might be orchestrated for television, but their love wasn’t. Or at least in the case of Angelika and Jordan, who wrote beautiful, if not a little vapid, vows, his voice trembling with emotion and her tears streaking her face.

  I oversaw every step, anticipated every pitfall, of which there were several. No exploding cake, though I’d rounded up a last-minute contingency plan for that too, just in case. I did, however, save Angelika from tripping over and-or ripping her dress, stopped a potentially violent spat between Sofia and Alexandra about whose bouquet was better, salvaged a minor microphone issue seconds before the ceremony began, and straightened out a carpet issue. Literally, I straightened it so the wrinkle didn’t break somebody’s leg. With the heels on the Felix gams, it wasn’t a possibility. It was an eventuality.

  In fact, everything had been so intense and so fast, I hadn’t had time to consider Kash or the fact that I’d kept something from him. I’d wanted to tell him everything Brock had said, but I didn’t. In that painfully distant conversation, I’d said nothing, unwilling to dig into any of it now, tonight. But Kash saw through me as he always did. The brief look of mistrust stung bitterly, and I’d vowed to tell him the second this night was over. At this rate, it seemed like it might be a flash.

  At least, a girl could hope.

  With a flurry of action, the bride and groom walked back up the aisle and out the doors, only to be swept away by the photographer. Guests were directed to the ballroom for drinks and to find their tables, and I flitted from the ballroom to the kitchen to my interns to the photographer and back again. Before I knew it, we were lining up for the processional’s entry into the reception.

  It wasn’t until dinner had been served and cleared, the speeches had been made, the first dances said and done and the DJ rolling out his setlist that I had a moment to pause. I ate cold chicken in what felt like a long inhale, standing at a metal prep table in the back as the kitchen crew cleaned up. I hadn’t seen Kash since that moment before the ceremony, not a glimpse or a glimmer, and his uncommon absence worried me. In my anxiety, I imagined the worst. Maybe he was angry, my dishonesty still sitting sour in my chest. Maybe he’d gone home, left me here. Heaven knew he didn’t have to stay, but he always did, always had, and the thought that he was gone left a streak of concern in my chest.

  I brushed it away, counting myself silly. Even if he had gone, he wouldn’t have left without a word, especially tonight, of all nights.

  Through the event, Addison lurked, jumping in at intervals to micromanage or criticize me. There was nothing to be done except take it with a smile, the same one I wore while trying to ignore Brock, who eyeballed me from Natasha’s side. I couldn’t make sense of it, couldn’t understand why he’d declare himself to me, then spend the whole night with her on his arm. The lowdown, dirty bastard. Coming on to me at his girlfriend’s sister’s wedding, no less. His girlfriend who I worked for. The one he’d cheated on me with.

  It was too much to comprehend. Though I couldn’t pretend his honesty hadn’t struck me. I’d replayed the conversation, dissected it. He’d said this wasn’t what he’d signed up for, and I wondered what he’d thought it would be. The entire country could imagine what dating Natasha Felix would be like.

  He was obtuse, but he wasn’t so dense to be shocked or surprised by her.

  I was bone-tired, worn out from keeping the wall of false indifference up for this long. It was crumbling from exhaustion, bolstered by my will, sandbagged by determination.

  A few more hours, I thought, shoveling the last bite of chicken into my mouth, following it with a swipe of my napkin as I chewed.

  I figured I had another half hour before I’d start getting the wedding exit together, so I went on the hunt for Kash. I searched the service spaces without finding him, and with my heart in my throat, I rode down to see if the van was still there, relieved to the point of weak knees on finding it there. Back upstairs I went, into the dimly lit ballroom, scanning the faces of guests and searching the fringes for Kash.

  But I found Addison instead.

  She stood at the edge of the dance floor, arms folded and gaze hard, focused on the guests as they laughed and danced and drank. I didn’t know why I stopped at her side, struck with some familiarity, a still, unexpected moment of equality. For that brief stretch, I saw us from a distance, good and evil, side by side, her darkness to my light. Or perhaps just a couple of stone-cold bitches ready to rip each other’s throats out.

  “I have to admit,” she said, watching the crowd jump around to a Calvin Harris song, “you didn’t do a completely terrible job.”

  “Look at you, being all sentimental.”

  “Don’t get used to it,” she said without making eye contact.

  I spent a moment inspecting her profile, finding her cold and beautiful, the exemplification of power. We should have been friends, I realized. We had more in common than not, but somehow, we’d ended up in this vicious circle, one that ended and began with me pinned at the neck.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” It was bravery or foolery that inspired me to ask the question I’d never asked before, struck with a brief, regrettable streak of sentimentality myself.

  She turned those hard eyes on me, her expression flat and unchanged. But with my question, she opened the veil, answering with all the cold honesty and unshakable pride I knew her to possess. “Because I’ve worked for a decade for what you’ve gotten in half as many years. I’ve worked my whole life for what is handed to you. Because you’re good enough that someday, my position will be threatened by you. And I didn’t come all this way for that.”

  The plain fact and blatant threat hung between us. And in my surprise, I made the mistake of reacting, my face softening and opening.

  “And that. That look right there. You, Lila, are by the book. You don’t have a knack for deceit, no skill for deception. What you don’t realize is that good guys finish last.”

  I schooled my face, nudging my mask back into place. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  “Oh, we will.” Her gaze shifted to the dance floor again. But the honest moment was gone, wiped away with the curl of her level lips. The expression was her equivalent to putting up her d
ukes. “So, you and the gardener, huh? You said you caught yourself a bigger fish, but I didn’t think you meant physically.”

  I looked in the direction she’d indicated, finding Kash standing in the shadows in that glorious suit, watching me with his brow low and lips level. It changed his face, darkened it to menace, the expression foreign to me on a face I’d come to know so well.

  I met her eyes again and found challenge there. Challenge and ruin.

  “It’s no wonder you wanted to use Longbourne,” she continued, turning to face me fully, shoulders square and eyes black.

  “Why does it matter where we get flowers?”

  “It doesn’t matter to me beyond the fact that it matters to you.”

  A flash of danger, a siren of warning. It was all a game to her. The Felixes. Brock. Kash.

  Kash.

  If she knew what he meant to me, he’d be cannon fodder. If she saw my feelings, she’d exploit them.

  She’d exploit him.

  “He’s pretty, I’ll give you that,” she said, still smiling that horrid smile. “I don’t know if I’d risk wedding contracts on him, but if that’s what you had to do to get him into bed, who am I to judge?”

  Don’t take the bait. Don’t let her know. Bury it, hide it so she can’t find it.

  Let her think she’s right.

  “Well, that’s all they’re good for, right?” I lied, the words sour and thick in my mouth. “You know how it is. After Brock, I needed to blow off some steam. He’s a useful distraction.”

  “You’re a shitty liar, Lila,” she said, amused. “You forget I’ve seen you together. If you think I’d believe he’s nothing more than a distraction, you don’t know me at all.”

  I laughed, the sound easy and carefree, my heart sick. “And if you think I’d go from Brock to a gardener, you don’t know me either. He’s a rebound, Addison. He means nothing to me.”

  “Oh, I think he might disagree,” she said, her lips twisting and cruel and triumphant.

  Horror, absolute and complete horror, overtook me as she glanced behind me, still smiling that knife smile.

  Kash loomed at my back, dark and fierce, his eyes blue shards of glass, glittering under the low lights. For a long, still moment, he laid the weight of the betrayal on me, the full extent of what I’d said, of what he’d heard, and I buckled under the pressure. The second I reached for him was the second he turned and walked away.

  “Oh God,” I breathed, following him swiftly. “Kash, wait,” I called after him, weaving through people in a useless attempt to catch him.

  He broke out of the crowd like a bullet, heading for the service exit.

  “Kash, please,” I begged, trotting carefully behind him.

  But he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, didn’t even acknowledge me. And I was so fixated on him, I didn’t see Brock flank us.

  “What did you do to her?” Brock shot, his eyes fixed on Kash.

  This was what finally brought Kash to a halt. He turned, dangerously deliberate, his face black with rage. “Excuse me?”

  The words were a threat.

  “Kash—”

  He cut a look in my direction that stopped me cold.

  “I said, what the fuck did you do to her?” Brock stepped into Kash, close enough that fury crackled between them, raising the fine hairs on my arms.

  “What happens between Lila and me is none of your fucking business,” he said with quiet force. “And you leave her alone. You’ve done enough.”

  “What do you know?” Brock snapped, and I realized he was drunk.

  And that these two men were about to fight.

  Over me.

  In the biggest event of my career.

  I braced myself and moved to put myself between them, to beg them to stop, for all our sake. But I never got to. Because a very drunk and shoeless Natasha Felix came teetering toward us.

  A camera followed behind her, and on a glance, I discovered one behind me, not knowing how long he’d been there.

  “You don’t get to dump me!” she screamed, waving her champagne glass toward Brock.

  “You don’t care,” Brock fired over his shoulder at her. “You never fucking cared, Tash. This whole thing was your idea. I never should have done it.”

  I froze. Every molecule stopped and turned and listened.

  “You were already going to dump her,” Natasha volleyed. “Like you’re some hero. God, you’re so fucking dumb. All of you are so. Fucking. Dumb.” With every word, she pointed at us with her champagne, landing on me last. “Especially you. It was a setup, the whole thing. You’d shit your pretty white pants if you knew how much money I paid Brock to frame this up. And everybody knew except you and your little piece of ass. Even your fucking boss is in on it!” Laughter burst out of her. “My fans are going to die when they watch this season. Didn’t you know, boyjacking is my thing? I coined that,” she noted before turning to Brock, her lips twisting in disgust. “Ugh, you are so pretty, but you are literally the worst lay of my life. And you do not get to dump me. Especially not for her.”

  Time slowed, stretching out like a rubber band as the knowledge washed over me. I’d been a toy, manipulated and maneuvered against my knowledge. I’d been tricked. Trapped by Brock. Addison. Goddamn Natasha Felix.

  They’d done this to me. Used me. Humiliated me. And for what? Ratings? Sport? To make a fool of me?

  In this entire room, there was only one person I could trust. The one person I’d betrayed with a lie meant to save him.

  Kash.

  I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late to stop him, as if I could have halted the freight train that was his massive arm as it coiled and sprang almost too fast to see. His fist hit Brock’s nose with a crunch and a spurt of blood.

  Brock crumpled, clutching his face as gore dribbled down his chin and over his hands. “You broke my nose!”

  “You broke her heart,” he said with conviction I felt in my marrow. “Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to her. And fuck you too,” he spat at Natasha.

  “You stupid motherfucker,” she said coolly, striding toward him. “Dumb, just like her. You just lost your job. Your business. Whatever you have, you just fucking lost, all because you were too stupid to mind your own business.”

  My breath labored, my vision dimming, the shallow sips I dragged into tight lungs not enough. There wasn’t enough air.

  You’re hyperventilating, I thought clinically.

  I held a painful breath and let it out slow. Commotion went on somewhere outside of me, followed by a scream from the gathering peanut gallery when they saw Brock’s face, which was disgusting. Addison materialized, somehow managing to look both horrified and pleased with the chaos.

  “You need to leave,” she said, and I looked to Kash.

  But he was looking at me.

  And so was Addison.

  The gravity of the situation dawned on me slowly. The Felix wedding had come to a grinding halt, the massive guest list gawking and whispering, phones out and recording. Natasha ranting, swinging her champagne around. Brock dabbing at his nose with a napkin. Kash with raw knuckles, face grim. This was not only my fault, but my responsibility. I hadn’t just breached every line of professionalism, I’d sullied the name of the company I’d worked so hard for.

  And then there was Kash. Somehow, I thought he might pay the steepest price of all.

  But in that moment, he didn’t seem to care. As I nodded at nothing and no one, Kash moved to my side, his hand in the small of my back, applying the gentlest pressure to guide me toward the door. I complied on numb, shaking legs, drifting by his side without knowing where he’d gotten my bag or how we got in the service elevator. Only that we were in it, then out of it, then into the cold winter night.

  He opened the door to the van and helped me in, and for a moment, I sat in the silence and tried to parse what had just happened. I was fired—that was clear. Addison would get what she wanted after all. I’d been controlled in a ruse or
chestrated by at least half a dozen people, strictly for their amusement.

  And I’d hurt Kash, the one person who mattered.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat as he climbed in and started the van.

  “I … I’m—”

  “Please,” he clipped, pulling out of the service parking lot. “Don’t try to explain. I don’t know if I can bear it.”

  I paused, unsure as he took a shaky breath.

  “Lila, I am sorry—so sorry—that they did this to you.” His teeth ground together, the steering wheel squeaking under his grip. But he wasn’t soft, and he sounded anything but forgiving. “Of all they could have done, this is too much, too far. If I could have ruined every one of those useless skinbags, I would have. I don’t care what they do to me. Fuck them. Fuck every last one of them.”

  “Your job,” I breathed. “I won’t let them hurt you. I won’t let them hurt Longbourne.”

  “I don’t think you have any choice in the matter. But even if you did, it’s not your concern.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not my concern? Everything having to do with you is my concern.”

  “I heard what you said to Addison,” he answered after a pause, his voice somehow both soft and hard. “And I’m not surprised. I hate it, but I’m not surprised. I can’t pretend I didn’t know you were out of my league.”

  “What? No, it’s not about that,” I insisted. “You can’t honestly believe I meant that.”

  He said nothing.

  “Kash, I was trying to protect you. Protect us.”

  “From what?”

  “From Addison. She wanted me gone, any way she could get it. She would have used you to get to me.”

  He shot me a look. “You sure you were worried about protecting me?”

  I drew a breath sharp enough to sting. “Yes, you. And Longbourne.”

  “I’m not afraid of them—especially not Addison Lane—and I don’t give a goddamn what they think. But you seem to.”

  “Stop it. Stop saying that. I don’t care about them, how could I?” My breath hitched and hiccuped. “After … after w-what they’ve done to me, I hope every last one of them goes to hell.”