by Dani Collins
What would it say about her value if he let his staff wait on her and she flaunted the fancy telephone he had given her?
“What was she like?” Gabriel asked. “If my mother told me anything about her, I was too young to remember.”
“She didn’t care to leave the house. Once she realized how much she could accomplish online, she worked from home and only went into Chen Enterprises for meetings.”
“Don’t make excuses for her. She didn’t take an active role in my life because she didn’t approve of her daughter running off to marry an American.”
“That’s true,” she murmured, setting aside her glass. “She had strong views on loyalty and didn’t trust easily. Someone must have damaged her trust in the past.”
“My mother?” he suggested.
“Perhaps.” She closed the pocketbook over the sparkling phone. “But she particularly didn’t trust men. It goes back to that business manager, I think. She would only employ a man if he was married and she was introduced to his wife. With her female servants, she didn’t want them to be married or have boyfriends, thinking it distracted them and split their loyalty. She fired a maid who was dating without her permission.”
“Controlling.”
“Yes, but she was kind in her way. I caught a virus once and she had the doctor come, brought me soup and sat with me, even though I was just sleeping.” She swallowed back the lump of emotion that swelled in her throat. “I’m going to miss her.”
“Have you heard of Stockholm syndrome?” The stones clinked in his glass as he drained it. “It’s the bond of trust and loyalty a hostage feels for their captor.”
“It wasn’t like that.” Was it?
Was that what she was starting to feel toward him? She had nearly given him free rein over her body a little while ago, even though she didn’t know him well at all.
“She never spoke about my mother other than to complain about her disobedience?” He looked into his empty glass, making it seem a very idle inquiry, but she sensed a deeper need for knowledge inside the question.
“Mae wasn’t one to confide or reexamine the past. She never admitted to mistakes or regrets. I only learned she had a daughter when she came back from your father’s funeral. I sat in as she directed her attorney to rewrite her will to include you. Until that day, I thought she followed your investments for business reasons.”
“Many do.”
“I do,” she admitted, idly opening a pocket on the wallet to find a metal credit card made of actual platinum. It had an electronic chip on one end, his logo on one side and her name on the other. She shoved it back in its pocket, not ready to contemplate that she had funds at her disposal. “I, um, I’ve learned a lot from you. I like to imagine that one day I’ll have my own money and will manage it wisely and create my own fortune, instead of doing it for someone else.”
She smiled at the silly dream of it, but she had needed something to get her through the endless days of feeling like the girl in the tower. A fairy-tale fantasy of building her own castle was a lot more fun to dwell on than facing the reality of her situation or worrying there was a darker future in store for her.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she pictured this.
“I think your grandmother was proud of you,” she said.
His dark brow went up with skepticism.
“I don’t mean that as flattery. Maybe I should say she took a certain amount of credit for your success.”
“Her DNA made me what I am? Perhaps. God knows I didn’t get any hidden talents from my father. But I’m beginning to think she owes her success to you.”
“I would never make such a claim.” Not without expecting a sharp rebuke from Mae.
The plane leveled off and the ultrapleasant attendant appeared with a fresh drink for Gabriel and a fresh smile for Luli. “May I bring anything to ensure your comfort?”
“The lavender thing is popular. You should try it,” Gabriel advised.
She was curious. She nodded.
“There’s a lovely iced-mint cookie that pairs with it. I’ll bring that, too.” The attendant melted away.
“You don’t have to be so...nice.” Luli wondered what the attendant was going to say to the rest of the crew behind her back. “Do you feel sorry for me or something?”
“You told me what you were worth, Luli. Act like you believe it.”
* * *
Gabriel came to Paris at least once a year and almost always with a woman. He didn’t consider his sexual partners as objects to be “kept,” but he liked to think of himself as a generous partner in bed and in boutiques. More than one lover had accused him of offering material items in lieu of his thoughts and feelings, which he couldn’t refute. He had developed the habit of keeping both of those things firmly to himself.
If asked, he blamed his martial arts training for his circumspection. Deep down, he knew it was simply his nature to be aloof. He had never cultivated close friendships and had always felt a step apart from regular society. Did it stem from a broken heart after losing his mother so young? From fear of turning into the drunken shell his father had become? That was likely part of it, but people who spoke their thoughts aloud or permitted emotion to rule them only got back more of the same. Physical feelings of hunger and sexual desire were distraction enough. He had no wish to yearn.
And sometimes, when he was in a particularly introspective mood, he suspected that the wealth he had accumulated was both a strategy against wanting any of those abstract things that seemed to be so important to other people and a buffer against the world at large. He shouldered immense responsibility for people’s jobs and the infrastructure that served their lives and influenced whether the stock market went up or down on a given day, but he employed armies of people to look after all of that. He spoke to very few people in any meaningful way. A professional of some kind or another could be hired to do almost anything that he didn’t care to do himself so that’s what he did.
But he couldn’t do that with Luli.
She didn’t fit the compartment of employee or lover or any other label he had previously slotted people under—not even estranged blood relative. He’d gone and married her, which made him personally responsible for her. People could be hired to feed his fish, but who would feed her if he didn’t see to it?
Who would tell her, “It’s okay. Go.”
She stayed put, only her nose poking out the open jet door like a cat testing the air, sapphire eyes taking in the pale pink clouds of the evening sky, the car on the tarmac below and the people waiting beside it.
“There’s someone in a uniform down there,” she reported and backed into him.
The feel of her was erotic and enticing and caused a strange sensation to flutter through Gabriel. It wasn’t unlike the aggression that had gripped him in that moment with the butler. Protectiveness, he realized as his hands went to her upper arms in both an effort to reassure her and a claim of warning to anyone who might threaten her.
“The customs agent.” He made himself release her. “It’s fine. Go ahead.”
She cautiously went down the stairs before him. His assistant met her with a smile and an envelope. “Your passport, Mrs. Dean.”
“Really?” She hurried to look inside.
“If I may?” the customs agent asked, taking the passport long enough to glance at the stamp inside it. “Merci. Enjoy your stay.” He handed it back to her. “Mr. Dean, nice to see you again. Toutes nos félicitations.” He tipped his cap and walked away.
“Thank you,” Luli said with bewilderment to his retreating back.
“Your birth certificate is in there with your marriage certificate and my contact details,” his assistant continued. “Please reach out at any time with questions or concerns. I’m Mr. Dean’s feet on the ground here in Europe, but I can quickly direct any inquiries to another party if it’s
outside my bailiwick.”
“Thank you.” Luli’s eyes were big as beach balls, glossy and bright. She blinked rapidly.
Gabriel nodded his thanks and steered her into the back of the car.
Luli’s hands shook as she tried to pull the certificate from the envelope without damaging its pristine condition.
“It is my birth certificate,” she said to him with awe. “This is me.”
“Good,” he commented.
Her hands continued to shake as she took great care folding the document exactly right so it fit into a pocket of her blue wallet. She transferred her passport and his assistant’s card and their marriage certificate into the same pocket, then secured the zipper, anchoring the little tab with her thumb.
“Are you cold?” He reached to take hold of her hand, only wanting to test her temperature.
She twisted her hand to squeeze his tightly and turned a wet look on him. “Thank you,” she choked, using her free hand to press the wallet into her navel.
“Why are you crying?” Alarmed, he reached for the box of handkerchiefs, each square of ultrasoft bamboo dyed a different shade from ruby to emerald to amethyst.
“Because—” Her voice broke. She dabbed one beneath her eyes, then beneath her nose. “I don’t know how I’ll pay you back for this, but I will. I promise.”
“For what? It was nothing.” He had paid a premium to fast-track the paperwork, but the fees were a tenth of what his chauffeur carried in his money clip for incidentals.
“No, I was nothing. Now I have the most important thing in the world. Me.” She wrapped both hands around the wallet and pressed it between her breasts, breathing still shaky. “Thank you.”
* * *
You told me what you were worth, Luli. Act like you believe it.
She had been acting. The whole time. Still was, especially as a handful of designers whose names she knew from Mae’s glossy magazines behaved with deference as they welcomed her to a private showroom complete with catwalk.
She had to fight back laughing with incredulity as they offered her champagne, caviar, even a pedicure.
“I—” She glanced at Gabriel, expecting him to tell them she aspired to model and should be treated like a clothes horse, not royalty.
“A full wardrobe,” he said. “Top to bottom, morning to night, office to evening. Do what you can overnight, send the rest to my address in New York.”
“Mais bien sûr, monsieur,” the couturier said without a hint of falter in her smile. “Our pleasure.”
“Gabriel—” Luli started to protest as the women scattered.
“You remember what I said about this?” he tapped the wallet that held her phone. “I need you to stay on-brand.”
“Reflect who you are?”
“Yes.”
“Who are you?” she asked ruefully. “I only met you ten minutes ago.”
“I’m a man who doesn’t settle for anything less than the best.” He touched her chin. “The world is going to have a lot of questions about why we married. Give them an answer.”
His words roused the competitor who still lurked inside her. She wanted to prove to the world she was worthy to be his wife. Maybe she wanted to prove her worth to him, too. Definitely she longed to prove something to herself.
Either way, she made sure those long-ago years of preparation paid off. She had always been ruthless in evaluating her own shortcomings and knew how to play to her strengths. She might not be trying to win a crown today, but she hadn’t been then, either. She’d been trying to win the approval of a woman who hadn’t deserved her idolatry.
She pushed aside those dark memories and clung instead to the education she had gained in those difficult years.
“That neckline will make my shoulders look narrow,” she said, making quick up-down choices. “The sweetheart style is better, but no ruffles at my hips. Don’t show me yellow. Tangerine is better. A more verdant green. That one is too pale.” In her head, she was sectioning out the building blocks of a cohesive stage presence. Youthful, but not too trendy. Sensual, but not overtly sexual. Charismatic without being showy.
“Something tells me I’m not needed,” Gabriel said twenty minutes in and rose to leave. “We’ll go for dinner in three hours.” He glanced to the couturier. “And return in the morning for another fitting.”
“Parfait. Merci, monsieur.” Her smile was calm, but the way people were bustling told Luli how big a deal this was. How big a deal Gabriel was.
The women took her measurements while showing her unfinished pieces that only needed hemming or minimal tailoring so she could take them immediately.
“You’ll be up all night,” Luli murmured to one of the seamstresses.
The young woman moved quickly, but not fast enough for her boss who kept crying, “Vite! Vite!”
“I’m sorry to put you through this,” Luli added.
“Pas de problème. Monsieur Dean is a treasured client. It’s our honor to provide your trousseau.” She clamped her teeth on a pin between words. “Do you know where he’s taking you for dinner? We should choose that dress next, so I can work on the alterations while you have your hair and makeup done. It must be fabulous. The world will be watching.”
She would be presented publicly as his wife, Luli realized with a hard thump in her heart.
She still didn’t know what their marriage meant. He had remained silent on the topic of their sleeping together after her confession before they left Singapore. They had spent the flight talking about the features of his laptop and some investments she thought she should unload, since their value had peaked and would likely begin to dwindle as the news of his takeover sank in. He had approved it, allowing her to continue ensuring the cogs of Mae’s business kept turning while he chewed his way through the wiring into her accounts himself.
They had dozed in their recliners at different times, neither of them seeking the comfort of the bed. He hadn’t invited her to join him there, at least. She hadn’t known how to circle back to whether he wanted her there.
She wished she knew what he was thinking, now that she had confessed her virginity. She wished she had experience to draw on! Had he kissed her because he found her attractive? Or merely because she had signed a paper that allowed him conjugal rights? She met all the criteria for typical standards of modern beauty, but perhaps that only made her objectively attractive and didn’t translate into someone who was actually desirable.
She reminded herself again that he had done her a favor in cutting things short. Along with youth and beauty, one of the few things she possessed that was hers to give or barter was her virginity. She had presumed it might have value to certain men, but Gabriel didn’t seem to be one of them.
And yet he must like sex and women. She stood where other women must have stood, buying clothing charged to him. Gabriel was a treasured client.
How strange to hate women she had never met, but she did. Instantly and bitterly.
Jealousy is a sign of insecurity and low self-esteem, she could hear her mother cautioning her. But this wasn’t a case where Luli could size up her competition and see how many of their qualities she possessed then make adjustments to outshine them.
She could only make the most of what she had—and gritted her teeth in determination, intending to.
“This one,” she said of the dress she tried on a few minutes later.
From the back, it was a one-shouldered evening dress in cranberry silk with a filmy chiffon skirt, except half of the skirt was ivory. The front was more dramatic, with its silk bodice fitted to her breasts and the bottom of the dress made of shiny silk and cut to miniskirt height. The chiffon of the overskirt was belted in the pink-red silk, but its ruffled edges opened as she walked, delicate as fairy wings.
“You have a good eye and the ideal figure for Madame’s creations,” her seamstress gushed
.
Luli accepted tall silver shoes with a pop of merlot on the sole then moved to the styling room. Her hair was blown out and her nails buffed and polished. A cosmetician applied cleansers, toners, moisturizer, antioxidants and foundation. When the woman reached for her color palette, Luli said, “I’ll do it.”
It had been years, but her muscle memory for liquid eyeliner and blending hues to contour her bone structure served her well.
Even so, when she stood dressed and ready in front of the mirror, she saw a stranger. Not because it had been so long since she had seen herself stage ready, but because she was no longer fourteen. Being twenty-two shouldn’t have made such a difference when she had been acting like an adult as an adolescent, but it did. Rather than looking like a girl playing dress up, she looked like a woman. A confident, self-possessed, beautiful woman.
Act like you believe it, she silently told the apprehensive face in the mirror.
“Monsieur Dean has arrived,” her seamstress came in to advise her. “Ooh, là là! He will faint. I may.” She fanned her face.
“Thank you,” Luli said, accepting the compliment graciously, as her mother had taught her to do. Anything less would suggest she believed herself inferior in some way.
Luli gave herself a final scrutiny, adjusted her posture and ensured she stood as tall as she was able. Then she thought back to the puppy she had played with as a child. She didn’t recall whom it had belonged to, but the memory was one she had always used to awaken a feeling of happiness within her. It was the happiest she’d ever felt.
She faltered. Had she really not had a happy moment since then?
“Perhaps you would like to carry this instead?” the seamstress said, offering a Cleopatra clutch in black alligator skin with an ornate silver clasp.
Luli had kept her wallet in her line of sight the entire time she’d been here, terrified that if it disappeared, she would. She used the excuse of changing purses to check again that her precious identification was still in her possession. She handed off the empty wallet to the woman who promised to bag it with the items going to the car.