by Mia Asher
I lift a hand to touch my lips, swollen and hot, and try to figure out why I feel so disappointed and … hurt? I woke feeling happy and content for the first time in a very long time. All I wanted to do was kiss him and talk to him. Instead, there’s an empty bed and no Lawrence in sight.
I’m about to recline my back on the headboard when I think of my cell phone. Maybe he sent me a text explaining why he left without saying good-bye. As I’m reaching for it, I ignore the voice inside my head telling me that he’s paying to fuck me, that he has no obligation toward me and that whatever we shared these past few days was just Lawrence being nice. When I have my phone in my hands, I slide the screen open, ignoring the fact that there are no new notifications, and look at my messages anyway. There’s nothing from him.
My hand with the phone falls listlessly to the bed as I stare at the wall in front of me when I hear a knock at the door.
“One moment, please.” I grab the white sheet and pull it up quickly, covering the front of my body. My heart begins to beat faster, thinking that maybe it’s Lawrence who didn’t leave after all. “Come in,” I say, glancing down to make sure that nothing’s showing before focusing in the direction of the door and smile.
My smile falls.
I watch the housekeeper carrying a tray filled with food step into the room. The aroma of butter and fresh fruit make my stomach grumble with hunger.
Mrs. Woods, a woman in her early sixties who seemed to dislike me at first glance, regards me with eyes that remind me of a hawk. I see so much disapproval in them. Under her gaze, I feel as though I am a little girl about to be punished for spilling grape juice on a rug.
“Laur—Mr. Rothschild mentioned that you would need breakfast. Where would you like this to be placed, Miss White?”
I sit up straighter as I try to fight a smile. “He did?” Oh my God, Blaire. You’re acting like a child. Get your act together. I clear my throat, and nod toward the nightstand next to me. “Here’s fine, thank you.”
I’m watching her arrange the items on the tray when I notice a bouquet of white orchids lying next to the China coffee pot. I reach out to touch the petal of one.
“They’re a gift from Mr. Rothschild.”
I raise my eyes to meet hers. “How in the world did Lawrence get them so early in the morning?”
“Special delivery,” she says dryly.
“Of course.” Whatever Lawrence wants, Lawrence gets. I shake my head, grinning. “Thank you for letting me know.”
She nods, pursing her lips. “Will that be all, Miss White?”
“Please, call me Blaire. I hate formalities.” There’s something about her that makes me want her to like me. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Lawrence said that she’s been under his family’s employment since he was a baby. I grin at her but she remains aloof.
“Enjoy your breakfast, Miss White.” She lowers her head ever so slightly as if the gesture caused her bodily pain before she turns on her feet and leaves me alone in the room.
Well now, that went well, didn’t it?
I’m about to reach for the food when I hear my phone ring. Grabbing it quickly, I see that it’s Lawrence’s work number. Excited and nervous, I answer immediately. “Lawrence?” I breathe, thinking of the smiling man from last night.
“Hello, Blaire. It’s Gina, Mr. Rothschild’s personal assistant.”
“Oh hi, Gina,” I say half-heartedly, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.
“Mr. Rothschild wished me to let you know that he’s going out of town today and won’t be back for a week. He said that, in the meantime, you’re more than welcome to stay in the townhouse and use the estate on Long Island if you’d like to get out of the city for a change.”
The news is like a punch in the face. “I didn’t know he was traveling today. He didn’t mention it at all.”
“It’s a very last minute trip.”
“I see.” He didn’t even call to say good-bye. I guess I’m just a business deal for him after all. I knew this. I know this. It’s what I want. So why do I feel so shitty about this? Why does it hurt so much?
“Also, I’ve contacted a different real estate agent. Her name is Claire Michaels. She will be helping you from now on.”
I groan, remembering Lawrence’s anger from other night. “Gina … what happened to William? Please tell me the truth.”
“Don’t worry about it, Miss White. It’s all taken care of.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway, I must get back to work, but do call me if you need anything. Have a good day.”
“Wait! Just one more thing.”
“Yes?”
I close my eyes, hating myself for asking the next question. “Did, um, did Lawrence happen to have another message for me?”
“I’m afraid not. But would you like to leave one for him?”
Yes. Why did you leave me without saying good-bye? Was everything we shared a lie? “No, that’s okay. Thank you.”
After we hang up, I turn to look at the food and push the tray to the side, not hungry anymore. As an inexplicable sorrow fills my chest, I have the odd sensation that it’s the beginning of the end of something beautiful that never fully developed.
Or maybe it already has.
I call Elly to invite her to come over and spend the day with me. At first, she doesn’t want to come, giving me some bullshit about principles or something like that, but curiosity wins, and she ends up accepting my invite. She’s also bringing her boyfriend—the musician she talked about a while back.
After running on the treadmill for an hour, I take a shower and get dressed, putting on my favorite pair of boyfriend jeans and an off the shoulder slouchy gray sweater. Looking down, I recall my short conversation with Elly. Apparently, things are getting serious between her and her musician. I’m so happy for her, but part of me feels both guilty and sad because I haven’t been there for her in the last couple of months. I know that I’ve been avoiding her, but I’m not ready to tell her what a mess of things I’ve made. And knowing Elly, she wouldn’t shy away from pointing out that I only have myself to blame.
I bury my hands inside my front pockets and reflect on how two girls as different as we are became the best of friends. And let’s be honest here, she’s a saint for not judging me and for putting up with my manic moods.
I had been living in the city for about two years when I met Elly. The moment she started to work at Homme, everyone in the staff fell in love with her outgoing personality. That is, everyone but me. I didn’t trust her friendly demeanor and ready smiles even though I knew that the girl didn’t have a bad bone in her entire body. She radiated positive energy.
After working together for three months, a waiter slash struggling actor slash really hot French model named Pierre threw a party at his loft in Astoria, Queens, and invited everyone.
She was there with her boyfriend at the time—a total douchebag if you ask me. As soon as I saw him, I knew that I couldn’t like him. Maybe it was the way that he flirted with everything in a skirt, or how he kept going on and on about his job and how much money he made. Really, the more he bragged, the smaller I imagined his dick to be. I couldn’t understand what Elly was doing with him, but love works in mysterious ways.
It had all started to go downhill when Pierre asked douchebag how he met Elly. I remember it so clearly. She looked up at him as she placed her palm on his chest.
“She had the best tits in the room,” he said, smug as shit. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. She froze. And for the first time, I noticed how much pain and insecurity she hid behind her ready smiles. I also had an inkling that it wasn’t the first time he’d put her down in front of people.
As our group grew quiet, Elly gently disengaged herself from his hold and said that she needed to use the bathroom. After we’d watched her figure disappear into the crowd, I turned to address him. “Wow, I feel so bad for you.” I let my gaze run over his figure, and I hop
ed he could see all the contempt and disgust I felt for him. “You must have such a small dick if you need to talk about her like that.” I smiled sweetly before I walked away without giving him a chance to reply.
Needless to say, the coward avoided me for the rest of the night.
Later on, after bidding everyone good-bye, I was making my way to the elevator when I heard the familiar voice of a man yelling at someone. I paused on my spot, the fluorescent light above me casting a yellow tint on my skin, as I contemplated whether to keep walking or to go back and find out if someone needed my help. Common sense told me to disregard it, not get involved.
In the end, my instincts won. I walked in the direction of the yelling. It was coming from behind the door of the exit staircase. As I held the doorknob, I could hear the man shouting, his words carrying so much hate and anger. I really should have walked back to the apartment and gotten Pierre, but all I could think of was that someone needed help. I grabbed the pepper spray I always carried with me from my bag and opened the door. My gaze immediately zoomed in on Elly being slammed against the wall by her boyfriend before focusing on her face, blood oozing from a cut on her lip.
They both turned to look at me at the same time. I don’t think I will ever forget the sheer terror I saw in her eyes as our gazes met. And the hate I saw in his. He looked gone, lost in anger—soulless.
“Leave us, you fucking bitch. Don’t you see that we’re busy?”
Right away I realized that the pepper spray wouldn’t be as effective from my position. I thought about approaching them but I dismissed that notion as quickly as it came. I didn’t want to put Elly in more danger by making him angrier. I needed him to get closer to me.
Think, Blaire, think.
Oh God.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“No. Let her go.”
He smiled, chilling me to the bone as he gripped her shoulders harder and made Elly whimper in pain. “And what if I don’t? What are you going to do, huh? I can probably break your pretty little neck in two with one hand.”
Appear at ease. Don’t let him see how scared you are, Blaire. “I’m not scared of you. Pierre’s apartment is just past this door. I could go get him, giving him and the boys the excuse they’ve been waiting for to kick the shit out of you.” And I did think about calling for help, but I was terrified that he would push Elly down the stairs in an attempt to escape and get rid of her.
I saw him loosening his hold on Elly, my words sinking in. “Fuck off. I’m not fucking scared of a bunch of pussies.”
I leaned my shoulder on the wall and crossed my arms over my chest, making sure I kept the little bottle hidden as I flipped its safety cap open. “That might be so, but it would be you against at least ten guys. And ten guys who happen to be really good friends with Elly. Ten guys who will be extremely pissed off when they see what you’ve done to her.” I wasn’t even sure that they were friends with Elly, but he didn’t need to know that. “If you let Elly go now, I won’t go get them. I’ll let you leave before they hurt you.” Smiling at him, taunting him with my words, I got ready to spray. “I’ll take pity on you.”
And that did it. He shoved Elly to the side and started to stalk toward me. But Elly surprised us both when she kneed him in the groin, making him fall to the ground as he cried out in pain. She grabbed the pepper spray from my hand and walked over to him. With tears running down her face, she said, “We’re over, you asshole. That’s the last time you put a hand on me.” And then she proceeded to use my pepper spray on him. We left him howling in pain as we walked back to Pierre’s apartment.
Pierre called the cops as soon as we explained what had happened. Holding a bag of frozen peas on her eyebrow, Elly turned to look at me and nudged me on the shoulder. “Thank you. I—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself. And don’t even think about it.”
She was quiet for a moment, staring at the floor, when she broke the silence. “That was really dumb, you know?” she said warmly.
My eyes zoomed in on her split lip before meeting her gaze. “I know, but it’s the least I could do.”
“I don’t want to sound ungrateful because I’m so lucky that you were there …” She closed her eyes momentarily and sighed. “I-I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t, but why didn’t you just go get Pierre? I didn’t take you for the kind of person to—”
“To go out of my way to help others?”
Blushing shamefully, I saw color return to her pale face, accentuating the red of her lips. “Yeah …”
“I’m not,” I said, shrugging carelessly, uncomfortable by the heart to heart that I felt coming.
She stared at me for a moment too long, almost as if she were seeing me for the first time. I fidgeted under her penetrating gaze because maybe she was seeing through me after all. “Actually, I was wrong. You are the kind of person to go out of your way to help others, you just like to pretend you’re a—”
“Cold-hearted, self-serving bitch?”
“I wasn’t going to put it so bluntly, but yeah … that.”
“I am all those things, Elly, and much more. Don’t be fooled by what I did. Anyone would’ve done it.”
She shook her head as her smile widened. “Keep telling yourself that, but you won’t make me change my mind. You’re a good person, Blaire, even if it pains you to admit it.”
“Listen, what happened doesn’t make us friends.”
“Yes, it does.”
“No, it doesn’t. I like to be alone. I don’t do girlfriends and shit like that.”
“Thank you, Blaire.”
“Don’t think about it. I did what anyone in my position would have.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
And thus, our friendship was born.
I find Elly and her date admiring a very famous painting of a landscape hung above the fireplace in the formal living room. I’m not surprised because I did the same thing when I first saw it and immediately recognized the artist’s timeless work.
I stop and admire the bold colors jumping out of the canvas once again. “Insane, huh?”
Elly turns to look at me, and the expression on her face makes me want to laugh. It’s hard to impress my best friend, and I think Lawrence just managed to do so. Really, it’s so typical of him and so unfair.
“Please tell me that it isn’t real, Blaire,” Elly says, awe and disbelief warring in her voice. But she interrupts me before I have a chance to reply. “Seriously? The dude owns a fucking Monet?” She pauses, shaking her head. “I can’t believe it.”
My gaze lands momentarily on the beautiful man standing next to her, before bouncing back to a flabbergasted Elly. He seems bemused by her reaction as well. “Believe it, my friend, because he does. He’s what you’d call a collector.”
“How billionaire and cliché of him.”
“Isn’t it?” I walk up to her and give her a big hug. Gosh, I’ve missed this woman. “And you haven’t seen the half of it.”
I let her go and watch her scan the room as she absorbs the grandeur of Lawrence’s house. The rich silks parading as curtains, the mandatory Persian rug, the brilliant finish on the wood furniture, the Tiffany lamp adorning one coffee table, and the list goes on. It should be vulgar, but it isn’t—it’s elegant and timeless. Truly, it’s the kind of elegance that you can’t buy—one must be born into it. And really, there’s no money like family money. “So this is how the one percent lives, huh? It’s obscene.”
“Ridiculous, but you’re impressed.”
She sighs and rolls her eyes at the same time. “I hate to admit it, but yeah, it’s hard not to be. Honestly. I was impressed the moment you sent Ronan to pick us up in a Rolls Royce.” The mention and familiarity of Ronan’s name on her lips takes me by surprise, but Elly doesn’t seem to notice.
“And I’m being very rude.” She grabs my hands and guides me toward her handsome companion who remained standing by the fireplace. “Blaire meet Alessand
ro and Alessandro meet Blaire.”
I take him in as we shake hands. Elly sure knows how to pick them. The man looks like the mistake I wish I’d made but never did. Piercing dark eyes that look like bottomless pits of sin, hair as black as my soul, and a body made for pleasure. Forget about sex on legs, he’s an orgasm waiting to happen.
“It’s great to finally meet you,” I say.
He smiles a slow smile that is half smirk and half seduction. Jesus. “Same here. Elly has told me a lot about you.”
“Oh God. That doesn’t sound too promising.”
Elly laughs as she takes hold of his hand, intertwining their fingers. “Alessandro, babe, would you mind getting the gift we brought for Blaire? I left it outside by the door.”
Beautiful Alessandro grabs her by the back of her neck, pulling her forward and kissing her deeply and intensely. As their tongues tangle, I find myself blushing. I’m no prude, far from it actually, but the sheer level of intimacy and passion shared in that one kiss easily conjures images of them fucking, and even I have my limits.
Uncomfortable, I clear my throat. Alessandro pulls away from her. “Don’t get into too much trouble.”
Elly grins. “Us? Never.”
He places a hand on the curve of her hip, pressing his fingers there, and walks away. As she’s watching him leave the room, I hear my best friend—steadfast, no bullshit Elly—sigh and flutter her eyelashes like a cartoon. What the fuck?
“Who is this woman and what happened to my best friend?”
“He happened.” She nods toward the door.
“Dude, if he kisses like that I can only imagine how he eats your pussy,” I tease.
“Ewww, Blaire!” she exclaims, laughing.
I wink at her and chuckle. “Well?”
She smiles big before covering her face with her hands. “Oh God, you have no idea … I get all twitchy just thinking about it.”
“You slut.”
“It’s his tongue … What can I say? It should be a national treasure.”
We laugh and fall onto the couch. She pulls my hair to the side and begins to braid it. “All joking aside …”
