De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  Maisie smiles and adds, “She was too eager and reactive.”

  “Starting with the differences in reaction to their father’s death?”

  Maisie nods her agreement. “Exactly. And in matters of the heart.”

  She looks at Oliver, and again he’s swallowing another sip of his coffee. I want to laugh as I imagine the Oliver I have had dealings with talking books and love. But this guy, Maisie’s Ollie, he takes in a deep breath and responds. “They both fell in love with men above their status.”

  Maisie shakes her head. “Matters of the heart, Ollie, not of the wallet.”

  When she reaches over to get her cup, he rolls his eyes and sees me catch him doing so. I can’t help but smile, and his lip curls up, ever so slightly, but as quickly as it’s gone, I wonder if I just imagined it.

  He continues the conversation, “Elinor who represents sense, was discreet, and Marianne wasn’t at all. Marianne had naïve views on love and marriage. Elinor was more realistic when it came to both.”

  Maisie nods. “In the end, both of them grew to adopt a little of each other’s strengths in the matters of the heart, making them more able to be loved.”

  When she adjusts herself in the bed, Oliver watches with concern. She looks incredibly uncomfortable. “Would you like to get up and out of here?”

  Maisie’s spirits quickly lift. “You offering to take me out?”

  “Found a great walking path along the river not far from here yesterday.” He glances at me briefly as he stands.

  “Then you two give me half an hour with the woman you say is a housekeeper, but I know damn well is a nurse, to get ready?”

  “Maisie,” Oliver begins.

  “Shh, let’s keep that between the three of us. Let them enjoy the newness of their beginning.”

  Once in the hall, Oliver says, “Did you have to make me look like an ass in there when I thought you’d gone out alone?”

  “No, I didn’t have to. You did that all on your own, Ollie.”

  He looks at me with absolutely no expression. But in the shadows of his protected eyes, I see amusement dancing.

  I want to tell Maisie I get it. I get that to her Ollie is like Elinor… sense and Bass is like Marianne.

  I shrug, turn my back to him and walk to the bathroom… beaming.

  After a truly wonderful day with Maisie, Mom, Bass, and yes, even Oliver, I had planned to leave this evening, to be back for classes on Monday. Then Maisie suggested I leave in the morning when Oliver would be leaving, allowing us both to take the same flight. Bass and Mom agreed, Oliver looked a bit annoyed. I tried to ignore it while we all ate dinner together.

  The main course of beef bourguignon would have been more than enough, but the estate chef made chocolate soufflé.

  “You can’t say no to chocolate soufflé no matter how full you are,” Bass tells Mom who looks uncomfortably full.

  “Bass–”

  “You just can’t, Ang, it’s a rule.”

  Regardless of the daggers that are either real or imagined that I’ve felt from across the table since we sat down, I can’t help but laugh. When Mom looks at me, I dip my spoon in and take a huge bite of my own soufflé, and she leans back in her chair and opens her mouth as Bass puts a heaping spoonful in her mouth.

  After dinner, Mom and I insist on helping clear the table.

  “You sure you’re okay with all this? Any concerns? Anything you’d like to discuss?” she asks quietly.

  “I certainly am. He loves you, Mom.”

  “And you and he kept a secret from me. I’m not sure I know how I feel about that.” She tries to scold me and I laugh, because I’m not sure she ever has actually scolded me.

  “It would have ruined the surprise, and I think he and I texting back and forth, unsupervised,” I smirk, “Helped me see him in a way I might not have.”

  I hear Bass chuckle as he enters the kitchen behind us. “Which was the plan.”

  “What?” Mom gasps.

  “You worry too much, Ang. If I was a less confident man, I would have let you keep me hidden for,” he pauses as he scratches his head as if he’s thinking, but I know he’s toying with her by the smirk. “Forever.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Natasha

  The entire ride to the airstrip with Mom, Bass, and Oliver is quiet. Mom is clearly exhausted and instead of asking if she’s okay, I Googled pregnancy and it seems like she’s perfectly normal.

  After a long hug goodbye, her eyes mist over and like the plague, it’s contagious.

  “Mom?” I shake my head because, apparently, I can’t handle seeing her cry, even if Google says it’s normal to be emotional. It’s more than likely because it’s the first time I’ve seen my mom cry.

  She hugs me, pulling me closer and whispers, “Pregnancy hormones. Think of it like your worst period ever, on crack, then multiply that by a hundred.”

  I laugh as I hug her tighter and giggle.

  I open my eyes to wipe away tears and see Bass standing a few feet away looking intensely at her with concern and love.

  I think of her list of characteristics she desired in a man.

  Her list was short. Dependable, kind, faithful, moral integrity and fatherliness. Well, from what I’ve seen, she has gotten exactly what she said she wanted. I laugh thinking of how Autumn had picked on her about dating a priest.

  I think of Autumn’s list as Oliver rounds the back of the blacked-out SUV and he’s no longer wearing jeans, a long sleeve black tee-shirt and a black wool pea coat. Oliver is not wearing sweatpants or boxers exposing his bare muscular and beefy build covered in black ink. Oliver is standing next to my mother’s GQ model boyfriend in black slacks, a gray button-down shirt, and a suit jacket, holding a tie, and looking equally as GQ as Bass.

  It dawns on me that Oliver ticks so many of her boxes.

  Suit and tie. Taller than her, chiseled features, fit, bulging arms, six pack abs; I think it may be more like eight, but I’m sure she’d think that’s even better, and tattoos, so many tattoos.

  No, I shake my head. From the messages Autumn and I have been sending back and forth, I know she thinks he’s an abrupt ass and I also know she has been messing around with one of the board members much younger sons, Eric.

  I wonder why that makes me relax? I think to myself. The answer is easy, he’s too… complex for her. She’s already been through a marriage where she wasn’t treated properly and deserves a relationship less complicated, one she could get swept up in.

  I blush at the thought of the other two items on her list, gentleman in the streets, a freak between the sheets, and then of course, oral ‘AF’.

  I’ve seen, read, and heard about freaks in the sheets. I don’t understand what the allure is. And the thought of a man’s mouth… there, isn’t appealing to me at all. I much prefer the thought of being kissed and imagine when that happens, I will feel… whole for the first time in my life.

  When Mom pulls back and looks up at the sky, I look up too.

  I watch as a black jet begins to descend. It’s not the same one we flew here in.

  I look back at Mom and she’s shaking her head at Bass as he and Oliver walk toward us.

  “Sold two and bought one, Ang.”

  Oliver looks up. “Sound economic decision, Bastien.”

  His tone is mocking, and I bite back a giggle.

  “What the hell does that mean?” Bass asks. “Sold two, purchased a new one that will be more comfortable for,” he side-glances toward Mom, “overseas trips, for all of us.”

  I board the jet after Bass, Oliver behind me.

  Mom’s audible gasp is enough a warning that the inside is as luxurious as suspected from the sleek outside.

  When I board, I can’t believe my eyes. The white leather seats on the left are a stark contrast to the black walls of the cabin. On the left, four chairs, in sets of two faced each other with a table between them. On the right is a built-in bench style couch, also in white leather.
/>   Past the entry area is a divider.

  “Beyond that wall is a less executive area. A television, a few reclining pod-like seats and another couch.”

  “It’s stunning.” And that word doesn’t even begin to do it justice.

  Oliver’s breath hits the back of my neck. “It’s a bit much.”

  “There’s a bedroom in the far back,” Bass announces. “Great place to rest.”

  “Uh huh,” Oliver sighs.

  I look back at him and scrunch up my nose. “Gross.”

  His chest heaves in a silent chuckle.

  “You don’t like it, Ollie?” Bass asks.

  “You downsized alright.” He lifts his sunglasses from his eyes and they’re red with exhaustion. “Got rid of two jets and bought one the same size as those combined. Makes perfect sense.”

  “Maisie can sleep, and so can you when flying transatlantic. It’s newer, safer, and more efficient. Believe it or not, it was custom built for a company who backed out on the deal with Boeing. I actually saved a lot of money.”

  Mom puts her hand on Bass’s back. “It’s beautiful.”

  He winks at her, leans in, whispers something in her ear, and kisses her cheek.

  Mom looks away from him and toward us. “One last hug and you two need to be on your way.”

  Once they exit the plane, I look at Oliver who stands arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head as he looks about.

  I can’t help but laugh and he looks at me sternly. “Oh, lighten up and enjoy. From what I understand, Bass deserves this, and from what I assume, you do too.”

  “You know assuming is just making shit up in your head, right?”

  He unbuttons his suit coat and tosses it over one of the chairs.

  “Well, since I can’t get you to open up to me, it’ll have to work.” I walk over to the seat across from the one he seems to have claimed and sit down, then deposit my bag on the table.

  When the flight attendant comes out, she tells us, “Please feel free to have a seat and buckle up. We’ll be taking off in a couple minutes.”

  “Thank you.” We exchange smiles as I buckle my lap belt.

  Oliver sits, leans his head back, and closes his eyes.

  “You don’t like flying?” I ask.

  “No,” he mumbles.

  “You look tired.”

  He replies with his eyes still closed, “You talk a lot.”

  I open my bag and pull out my earbuds, plug them into my phone, and hit random shuffle. O-o-h Child begins, and I smile to myself at the familiar words of a song Mom used to whisper in my ear before every surgery before they took me into the operating room. I glance up at Oliver whose eyes are still closed, and feel sorry for him that he wasn’t born to a mother like mine, or the one he got later in life. One that would have protected and loved him from whatever it is he endured, so that he wasn’t always on guard.

  I grab my sketchpad and a pencil for the first time all weekend. Toe off my shoes, tuck my feet under myself, sit back and begin to draw.

  The entire flight he doesn’t say a word. In fact, by the rise and fall of his chest, I know he’s sleeping.

  When we begin to descend, I start to quietly put away my things, hoping not to wake him. When we land, he sits straight up and looks around almost as if he is unaware of where he is. When he looks at me, he huffs, and I almost apologize for waking him, but I don’t.

  I gather my belongings and shove them in my bag as the plane comes to a stop.

  As soon as the plane fully halts, I spring to my feet.

  When the flight attendant comes out and the door begins to open, I hear Oliver’s voice, “Natasha, wait.”

  I look as he stands, grabs his jacket, and walks toward me.

  He stops and tells the flight attendant, “I’ll be back in two hours tops, after I escort Miss Petrov.”

  “Unnecessary,” I say, hurrying down the steps toward the waiting car.

  His voice calls from behind me, “God damn it, just wait.”

  I look back, and the numbness I have felt since boarding the plane on Friday is dissipating and the pain in my chest increases.

  When he grabs my elbow, I jerk it away. “Just leave me alone! I have done everything I can to be kind, in hopes that you and I could get along, maybe be friends, and you, you agree and then look at me the way you did just moments ago.”

  “Natasha–”

  “I have bared everything I normally hide in hopes you’ll feel like you can trust me enough to do the same. The way you look at me, talk to me, makes me feel like I did back–”

  His hands grip my biceps gently and he shakes me slightly. “I wish I could, but I’m not able to be as open as you.”

  I pull my arms away. “And I’m not stupid enough to let someone break all that I have worked to gain as far as confidence goes.”

  He opens the door to the waiting limo. “Just get in.”

  “Not with you,” I huff and begin to walk past him.

  He grabs me around the waist with one arm, lifts me up, and puts me in the car.

  When he tries to get in, I push against his chest, close the door and demand, “Get me out of here.”

  When the car begins to drive away, I look behind me and see him standing, fists clenched at his sides and glaring at the car.

  When I turn around, I take the first deep breath I think have since I saw him.

  For two days I’ve had to drag myself to classes that I normally have to force myself to stay in bed for so that I’m not too early.

  Since returning from Paris, I’m exhausted, yet I can’t fall asleep. I’ve gone back to watching James Charles makeup tutorials on YouTube to bring some joy back into my life, and sketching nurseries to share with Mom and Bass for the baby’s room and some new designs based on a conversation and concept the three of us had centered around Bass’s mother, Ella.

  Just weeks ago, I had left New York and my high school years behind for London, and college. I left behind my fears, my insecurities and so many of my inhibitions. Well, they’re all back now.

  A knock on my door causes me to push back from my small wall-mounted dorm room desk.

  I look up and see Shana, whose room is connected, and Harry, who I’d become friends with the first weekend here. I’d actually thought I could have had a crush on him, but the more I was around him, the more I realized I preferred his friendship over the idea of making the mess of a friendship.

  Harry is the first to speak. “Are you alright, love?”

  “Of course.” I stand and grab my book bag and portfolio. “I think my visit this weekend just tired me out.”

  “Can’t be jet leg, it was Paris.” Shana walks up and feels my head. “You don’t feel warm; do you have your per–”

  Harry interrupts just in time, “Alrighty then, I’ll meet the two of you in the lobby.”

  When he walks out the door, she covers her mouth as she giggles then says, “Oops.”

  “Imagine his embarrassment had I answered with yes,” I shrug.

  “Then you’ll be all better in a few days.” She nods to the door. “Let’s go.”

  After classes and being around my peers, including Shana and Harry for the better part of the day, I actually do feel better. I also think my period has a lot to do with my emotions being wonky.

  Shana begged me to go out with Harry and a couple of his friends to a pub after class. Telling me she thinks it’s exactly what I need.

  Standing on the sidewalk in front of the brick building located at 27 Great Portland Street, Shana points up to the sign. It’s a Rooster and underneath the rooster are the words, The Cock.

  “I mean, how can it not make you feel better,” she snorts, and I can’t help but laugh. Then she takes a serious look. “You’ve been like a nun since you’ve been here, Natasha. I think that has more to do with your depressed mood than your period.”

  “Wh… what?” I feel my face flush.

  My phone vibrates in my hand and I hit accept to Autu
mn’s FaceTime request, never more grateful for the interruption.

  I look down at her smiling face when Shana says, “You never even talk about guys. I mean, unless you’re gay, and that’s totally cool.”

  I want to die but I focus on raising the phone up to my face as I hold my finger up, pausing this conversation that may possibly expose just how innocent I am.

  “What?” Autumn laughs. “She’s the opposite of gay. You should see her man.”

  Oh God, nothing, and I mean nothing, good comes from lies.

  When Autumn flips the phone camera and I see him, I think I am dying. “Tell her, Oliver.”

  He’s wearing a gray dress shirt with a deep burgundy tie. His shirtsleeves are rolled up enough to see the black ink peeking out from underneath them and it appears he hasn’t shaved in days. But he looks… like Oliver.

  He looks up from mom’s old desk. “Tell her what, exactly?”

  “Holy shit,” Shana whispers as she looks at the phone.

  I close my eyes as the invisible knife tears into my chest.

  “Tell her that your Natasha isn’t gay.”

  The knife is now twisting into my heart.

  I can’t see Autumn’s face but I imagine her mouthing threats laced with obscenities at him if he doesn’t.

  Oliver’s face is unchanged, but his eyes darken.

  Autumns voice raises slightly, “Tell her about your romantic weekend in Paris, Oliver.”

  He cleared his throat and crosses his arms over his chest, of course making his pectoral muscles flex and his forearms bulge even more.

  “Sweet baby Jesus,” Shana whispers.

  “Good evening, Natasha.” He looks into the phone.

  “Hey.” My damn voice cracks.

  “Do you think that any part of this weekend needs to be shared between anyone but you and I?”

  Oh my God, he looks annoyed. But also, oh my God, he didn’t try to make me look like an idiot and he could have. I shake my head.

  He looks at Autumn. “Now how about you get back to work.”

  “When I’m done talking I will.” She flips the phone around. “Tell me where you are, show me, let me live vicariously through you!”