Designing Emma (Volume 5)

by Clarissa Carlyle

  “Just think about it,” Nick urged her. “For Delacourt Designs, the sky is the limit! Most brands today promote not just an image but also a lifestyle. Delacourt Designs could be all about the luxury shabby chic! People would snap it up! We’ve already got the platform.”

  Emma glanced around her apartment. She was desperate to make it her own, to style it just how she wanted. Was what Nick was proposing really so farfetched?

  “It sounds good,” Emma admitted. “But I’m not sure I’m up to it.”

  “We can bring in outside artists and designers for you to collaborate with,” Nick suggested helpfully.

  “It could be a whole new brand within the company umbrella. Delacourt Décor!”

  “Ooh.” Emma got chills when he said it. “I like it!”

  “And maybe having something to focus on will take you out of your Richmond funk.”

  “I’m not in a Richmond funk!” Emma told him crossly, folding her arms across her chest.

  “Aren’t you?” Nick glanced out her window, out at the apartment building where Daniel was currently living.

  “Tell me you don’t sit here and watch his apartment,” Nick ordered, noticing the chaise lounge, currently beneath dustsheets, which was casually positioned by the long window, but Nick knew better. The placing was very much deliberate.

  “I don’t watch his apartment.”

  “No?” Nick got up, placed himself down on the chaise lounge and playfully gazed out of the window.

  “Ooh, Daniel, your light is on,” he mimicked Emma, raising his voice to make him sound almost girlish.

  “Stop it!” Emma was laughing. “Fine, you’re right!”

  “Knew it!” Nick’s voice dropped to his usual octave as he turned back around to face her.

  “I’ve sat there every night since he came back.” Emma glanced shamefully at the floor. “Satisfied?”

  “No.” Nick shook his head. “But I think Delacourt Décor could be just the thing you need to finally distract yourself from him enough to get over him.”

  “I just want to forget about him and move on,” Emma explained sadly. “But I can’t seem to.”

  “You can,” Nick reassured her. “It just takes time. Until then, I say we press on with Delacourt Décor. What do you say?”

  Emma brightened slightly and smiled. “Yeah, I like it. A new challenge!”

  “Exactly!”

  But even though she was excited at the prospect of a new venture within her company, she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting back to Daniel’s apartment, where she noticed with mixed emotions that his light was on.

  THE SUN WAS SHINING as Nick and Emma navigated their way around the flea market. Emma scoured the various stalls for any pieces of furniture that caught her eye while Nick casually walked beside her, sipping his iced tea.

  “I’m not sure what to look for,” Emma admitted as they wandered around.

  “Anything, really,” Nick instructed. “We’re just in the ideas phase of Delacourt Décor at the moment.”

  “Do you really think the idea will take off?”

  “Of course!” Nick enthused. “I’ve already discussed it with Damion, and he was totally on-board.”

  “Did you discuss it with anyone else?” Emma asked hopefully.

  “You mean did I discuss it with Daniel?” Nick looked at her sternly.

  Emma sighed and nodded.

  “No, I did not,” Nick informed her. “But you seriously need to stop thinking about him so much. I mean, we’re here to try to give you a new, non-Daniel-related pet project!”

  “I know, I know.” Emma was starting to fear that her mind would always be consumed by Daniel Richmond-oriented thoughts when she spotted a beautiful antique lamp that had a wooden white base and a shade decorated with silhouettes of swallows. When the lamp was on, the shapes of the birds were projected onto the walls.

  “Oooh,” Emma cooed as she hurried over to the lamp. “This is beautiful!”

  “Yes!” Nick agreed excitedly. “This is exactly the sort of style we’re going for!”

  Emma picked up the lamp and turned it over in her hands. It was surprisingly heavy. A portly woman in a floral dress keenly watched her as she held the lamp. Emma caught the woman’s eyes and smiled politely.

  “How much for this lamp?”

  “Twenty,” the woman said tersely in a thick Southern accent. Nick almost choked on his iced tea.

  “Twenty?” he reiterated.

  “Yeah, twenty,” the woman snarled. “I won’t go any lower.”

  “No, no, twenty is fine.” Nick reached for his wallet and removed a crisp twenty-dollar bill that he handed across to the lady. She snatched it from him and grunted in gratitude. Emma was oblivious to the interaction; she was admiring her new purchase as they walked away.

  “I could totally see this working.” She was talking quickly, getting excited. “But I’d actually cut out the shapes of the birds to ensure maximum effect when the lamp was on.”

  “Twenty dollars.” Nick shook his head in disbelief. “She was basically giving the darned thing away! I should have given her a fifty and told her to keep the change!”

  “That’s the point of flea markets,” Emma explained, looking up from the lamp she was proudly holding. “You can find some real bargains.”

  “You’re not kidding!” Nick exclaimed.

  “Have you never been to one before?” Emma wondered. She realized that the whole time they had been there Nick had remained by her side, reluctant to wander off and explore on his own, which was unlike him.

  “What do you think?” He raised an eyebrow at Emma.

  “No, then.”

  “No indeed.” Nick nodded. “My old man would have furniture imported from Italy and France. Flea markets were never really a Cardelinni thing.”

  “I see.” Emma understood where he was coming from, as she’d also been fortunate enough to be brought up in a wealthy home. But her mother always ensured that Emma had an appreciation for all things, whether expensive or modestly priced. On the last Sunday of every month, she’d take Emma to a flea market. She’d give her a ten-dollar bill and tell her that she had one hour to find the most wonderful treasure she could source for that price. It was a game they both played, and Emma’s mother always won. She had a knack for finding beautiful little trinkets that she always kept and placed in her jewelry box alongside her heirlooms and more modern pieces from Tiffany’s. Emma’s mother cherished everything, and Emma hoped that some of that appreciation for all things had been passed down to her.

  “We should probably look at home furnishings first.” Nick eyed the lamp. “Stick with lamps, curtains, cushions, bedding, towels, that kind of thing. Then once that takes off, we can think about larger items like beds, sofas.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “We’ll need to hire more people,” Nick warned. “We’re at that point already, really. Now that the house is finished, we can start bringing full-time staff in.”

  Emma shook her head and smiled. It was surreal to think that people would want to come and work for her company.

  “It’s all happening, Delacourt.” Nick smiled and nudged her fondly. “This is your dream becoming reality. Make sure you find time to stop and smell the daisies once in a while.”

  “Thank you,” Emma said sincerely as they approached his car, ready to leave.

  “It’s okay.” Nick shrugged casually, opening the door on the driver’s side.

  “Not just for today, but for everything,” Emma clarified. She carefully placed the lamp in the back and positioned herself in the passenger seat.

  “It’s my pleasure.” Nick smiled. “I’m happy to help.”

  “You’re such a nice guy,” Emma enthused. “I never would have thought that when I first met you.”

  “Look.” Nick turned to look at her, a mischievous grin on his face. “When I said you need a distraction from Richmond, I didn’t mean me, so don’t go transferring your feelings for him
onto me.”

  “You wish!” Emma laughed, playfully punching his arm.

  Nick smiled, but his eyes suddenly dulled with sadness. “I’m damaged goods, Emma Delacourt,” he told her, his voice suddenly far away and distant. “If I wasn’t, I’d snap you up in a heartbeat.”

  “You were a friend when I needed one,” Emma told him sincerely, placing a comforting hand upon his leg. “I couldn’t ask for more than that.”

  “Good.” Nick’s smile returned, and the reflective moment had passed. He turned the key in the ignition and expertly maneuvered his car out of the busy flea market parking lot.

  DAMION WAS SURPRISED to open his front door and find Daniel standing there.

  “Can we talk?” Daniel asked tentatively.

  “Sure.” Damion stepped aside so that his friend could enter the apartment.

  “Can I get you a drink? Coffee?” Damion suggested politely.

  “Have you got anything stronger?” Daniel asked as he lowered himself down on the sofa.

  “Whiskey?” Damion opened a cabinet and pulled out a half-empty bottle of the dark liquor.

  “Perfect.” Daniel smiled, but it didn’t extend to his eyes.

  Moments later Damion joined him on the sofa, handing him a scotch on the rocks and having prepared one for himself.

  “So?” Damion looked expectantly at him. “To what do I owe the pleasure? You said you wanted to talk?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Daniel sighed. He swirled the ice in his glass, watching it clumsily twist within the sea of whiskey before he lifted it up and consumed the entire contents in one gulp. He took a second for the drink to settle and then placed his empty glass upon a nearby coffee table.

  “You needed that?” Damion glanced at the glass and raised an eyebrow.

  “Yeah.” Daniel nodded. “I did.”

  “Something up?”

  “I just quit my job,” Daniel announced.

  “You what?” Damion’s eyes instantly flew open with surprise, and he took a long sip from his own glass, suddenly needing the liquor himself.

  “I quit my job.” Daniel leaned back in the sofa and put at hand to his temple. “I’m not going back to London.”

  “Are you serious?” Damion remained in shock.

  “Yeah.” Daniel laughed slightly at his own madness. “I phoned them just before I came here, letting them know that I won’t be going back.”

  “Why... why do you want to stay here?” Damion asked carefully.

  “Honestly, I don’t know.” Daniel leaned forward and glanced at his glass.

  Damion noticed the gesture and hurried back over to the kitchen area. He came back with the bottle of whiskey. He topped Daniel up, and this time left the bottle beside the glass.

  “Thanks,” Daniel said appreciatively as he raised his glass and took a more moderate sip than before.

  “But you quit your job? That’s huge!” Damion exclaimed.

  “I know.”

  “So you’re definitely not going back to London?”

  “Definitely not,” Daniel clarified. “I’m staying here.”

  Damion drank some more of his own drink, mystified by Daniel’s sudden decision to stay when he’d previously been so eager to leave.

  “What will you do for work?” Damion wondered, and then he realized. The reason for Daniel’s impromptu visit was surely because he wanted to secure his old position within Delacourt Designs. He wanted things to go back to how they had once been.

  “Are you coming back to Delacourt Designs?” he asked excitedly. “If you come back, it will be just how we always envisioned it would be! The three of us working together!”

  “Actually, no.” Daniel shook his head slightly. “I’m not looking to come back to Delacourt Designs. I’m going to return to my old job. They said they’d have me back on the same salary, so it’s all fine.”

  “Your old job?” Damion said in dismay, his shoulders slumping. All his grand visions about the two of them running the fashion company together had been thrown out of the window.

  “Yeah.” Daniel raised his eyebrows. “It pays well. I enjoyed it.”

  “But you should come back to Delacourt Designs!” Damion enthused. “It’s where you belong, and you know it!”

  “No.” Daniel elongated his refusal as he said it. “I don’t belong there. I belong as far away from the company as I can get.”

  “It’s not the company you’re trying to get away from, is it?” Damion asked sagely.

  “It’s her,” Daniel admitted sadly. “I can’t work there and risk running into her on a daily basis. You saw what a car crash it was when she saw me at the party.”

  “Yeah.” Damion nodded in agreement, remembering how Emma had ended up in the grounds in a drunken state. It certainly wasn’t her finest hour.

  “So I’ll just resume my old job; that’s much safer for everyone.”

  “But then why stay here at all?” Damion wondered. “I mean, I assumed you were staying for Emma. But if you’re going to be in your old job, you won’t even see her!”

  “Who says I’m staying for Emma?” Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t... I just assumed.”

  “Well, you assumed incorrectly,” Daniel declared. “I’m staying, though even I don’t really know why.”

  “So it could be for Emma?” Damion offered.

  “It also could not be,” Daniel countered. “Right now I just want to reconnect with you, my oldest friend, and try to get my life together here.”

  “I’ll drink to that!” Damion smiled, topping up both of their glasses. “It’s too quiet without you here, Richmond!”

  Together they raised their glasses and then clinked them together.

  “But thanks for the offer,” Daniel said gratefully as he took a long drink from his glass. “It’s nice to know that if I wanted back in the Delacourt Design fold that I could do that.”

  “In my mind you’re always welcome.”

  “But not in hers?”

  “No.” Damion shook his head. “Not in hers. I don’t really know what went down between you two, but she seems pretty hurt.”

  “It’s better you don’t know,” Daniel told his friend.

  “If you stay”—Damion looked intently at him, choosing his words carefully—“make sure it’s for the right reasons. And don’t hurt her anymore. She’s been through enough in her life; she doesn’t need that.”

  “I know.” Daniel nodded gravely. “That’s why I’m not taking you up on your offer to rejoin Delacourt Designs. Until I know what I want, I need to keep my distance from Emma. It’s the fair thing to do.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back!” Damion grinned. “And your return deserves a proper toast!” He stood up and headed back towards the kitchen area of his open-plan apartment.

  “I’ve got some champagne around here somewhere,” he called as he began sifting through cupboards.

  “Bring it over!” Daniel cried jubilantly. “Let’s break out the good stuff!”

  OVER THE NEXT WEEK, Daniel and Damion went out together every night. They drank the most expensive champagne and visited all of the most exclusive clubs. It was like old times. They laughed, joked, drank, and the week disappeared in a blur of neon lights and pounding dance music.

  Damion struggled to remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Daniel was always the instigator of more hedonistic times. When they were out and the music was playing and the alcohol was coursing through his veins, Damion felt free. Free from his unrequited devotion to Emma, free from the obligations of his job. He was just young, free and alive to enjoy the night.

  But as the week drew to an end, the two men realized that they couldn’t remain in their fantasy nightlife world. Reality came crashing in on them as they awoke in Daniel’s apartment early on Monday morning, a week after he’d made the decision to stay in America and not return to London.

  Daniel awoke on the floor of his bathroom. He pushed himself up off the cold
hard floor and tried to remember where he was. As he glanced around, he recognized the waterfall shower, the giant white ceramic sink, and with a sigh of relief, he knew he was home. Pushing himself up, he opened the door and wandered out into his apartment.

  Several women in lingerie were sprawled out across his bed, all fast asleep. When Daniel spotted them, he quickly retreated back into the corridor to avoid waking them. He glanced down and realized, with relief, that he was wearing his designer boxer shorts. He didn’t want to be strutting around naked, especially when there were strangers about.

  In the open-plan living area, two more girls were snuggled together on the sofa, also still sleeping and in their lingerie, while Damion leaned awkwardly across the kitchen counter.

  “Hey.” Daniel shoved his friend as he passed him and turned on the kettle. He was in desperate need of coffee.

  “Urgh,” Damion groaned and peeled himself off the kitchen counter.

  Daniel ran a hand down his face, feeling unbearably haggard and half-asleep, but he was jolted into a higher sense of consciousness when he spotted that his friend was completely naked as he stood up and got off the counter.

  “Damion!” Daniel coughed, almost unable to speak as he tried to suppress his laughter.

  “What?” Damion asked, oblivious about his own lack of clothes. He raised a hand to his temple and groaned. His head was throbbing like there was a bass drum residing in there.

  “You might want to put some clothes on.” Daniel smirked.

  “What?” Damion glanced down at his completely exposed self. “Oh shit!” Then as he surveyed the room, he spotted the girls on the sofa.

  “Shit!” he exclaimed, gesturing towards them as he looked at his friend.

  “There’s three more in my bedroom.” Daniel laughed. His tongue felt as though it were made of sandpaper as it roughly maneuvered around his mouth to enable him to speak.

  “Who are they?” Damion coughed, using his hands to cover his modesty.

  Daniel shrugged. “No idea. I can’t really remember last night, can you?”

  “No.” Damion shook his head. “I don’t even know what day it is.”