De La Porte Fashion: The Complete Box Set

by Mj Fields

  I look up when Bass walks in the room. He whispers, “You want to come out and go over some things with Ang and I?”

  No, is what I think, but I stand, kiss Maisie on the cheek and nod to the door.

  Inside the conservatory turned studio, I see five pieces hanging that weren’t here before. “Are those new?”

  Angela smiles and nods. “Natasha needs to give her final approval, but yes, these are hers.”

  I walk to the table and sit across from Angela and Bass.

  “Ang and I are thinking about launching via social media and our website.”

  “No runway show?”

  She answers, “With Ines already showing her teeth, we think it’s best.”

  “And how does Natasha feel?”

  Angela looks at me oddly but answers, “I’m sure she’ll agree. She’s busy with school, and now the London storefront–”

  “She’s a very talented, brand new designer. Doesn’t she deserve–”

  She interrupts me, “I think it’s best. I think my daughter’s well-being and safety are more important that any runway show.”

  The rest of the time I sit and listen to their plan while biting my tongue.

  One week from today, they plan to virtually open the closet door in New York and Paris, and invite top fashion magazine editors to the Paris house to do so.

  “Needs to happen now, Natasha needs a break and she won’t take one until this launch happens. So, the board meeting, we’ll video in and announce the launch, and then you’ll need to crack the whip in New York.

  “Does Natasha know?”

  “The reason we decided this was because she’s going to New York to tell her friends. We’d rather get everyone else up to speed before it gets leaked.”

  “Do you think maybe she should be part of the presentation?”

  I know I’m overstepping like a motherfucker, but she deserves all the recognition there is.

  “She’ll be at school,” Angela reminds me. “But maybe.” She stops and smiles, her smile reminds me of Natasha’s right before she says something incredibly sweet. “If we hold the meeting at ten in the morning instead of eight–-”

  “We’ll interfere with someone’s schedule,” Bass gasps in jest.

  “If my little girl can work her ass off all week at school, and here on the weekends, those men can put in an extra few hours.”

  After spending an hour taking photos of Natasha’s pieces and e-mailing them to Angela, we’re in front of a computer where Angela pulls up a file with pictures of Natasha working with her team here the past two weekends, along with a couple selfies of her in her dorm, holding up a sketch pad smiling from ear to ear.

  “Did you plan this without telling me, Ang?”

  “This is part of my daughter’s life, I have a book for every year of her life.”

  Bass leans over and kisses her cheek. “I’d love to see what you looked like holding her when she was a baby.”

  She laughs, not looking away from the computer. “Good luck finding those.”

  “You get rid of them all?” Bass asks. “Because if you think for a minute, I’ll let you destroy any pictures I take because you don’t like your hair or–”

  “Everyone knows it’s the mom who takes all the pictures.”

  “I’ve been taking pictures of you since the day we met. Do you really think that’s going to change?”

  She looks over at him and smiles, shaking her head a bit.

  I’m so happy he found someone to love and to love him back. And like always, I am reminded of the differences between Bass and I, and even more important, why I can never cross that line I ride and betray his trust, or jeopardize his happiness.

  As I lie in bed that night, I can’t sleep knowing we’ve crossed oceans in opposite directions. Knowing she’s in New York.

  I turn on the fucking song she tortured me with and will it to draw my mind blank, but it just intensifies my need to get the hell out of here.

  After three hours of dozing in and out of sleep, I decide to see when I could catch a flight back to New York. I book the six am flight.

  I throw my shit in my bag, take a shower, dress, and head down to see Maisie, who I assume is sleeping.

  She’s not.

  When I tell her I have to leave to get some things done in New York for Monday, she grins and says, “I wouldn’t want to keep you from her.”

  Goddamn, am I that obvious?

  “From who?”

  Her brown eyes search mine and her frail hand cups my cheek. “Lady Liberty, dear.”

  As I’m standing at the kitchen counter writing a note thanking Ang and Bass once again for their hospitality and telling them I needed more time to prepare for Monday, I hear Angela gasp.

  I turn and see her hand over her chest.

  “I apologize for startled you.”

  “Just didn’t expect anyone up at four in the morning,” she sighs. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” I point to the note. “Just decided to head back a day sooner to get things done.”

  “Are you dating anyone?”

  The way it flies out of her mouth, the regret that crosses her face, makes this awkward as hell.

  “Really haven’t had time.”

  “Since?”

  “Been awhile, Angela, but with all due respect, I honestly have no desire to have this conversation.”

  “You’re spending a lot of time with my little girl.”

  I cross my arms over my chest and lean back against the counter. “Here and on the plane.”

  “And at the bar.” she adds and stands taller.

  “Where your daughter was with friends, drinking, and I was meeting an associate.”

  “Celine.”

  I nod.

  “Who you hired for secur-ing.”

  Fucking Autumn.

  “Security happens to be a specialty of mine. Since I work for Bass, and now you, I thought I’d throw that in for free.”

  Her stance stiffens.

  “My daughter is a,” she pauses and scratches behind her ear. “Not had a lot of friends.”

  “I get that.”

  “She seems to like you.”

  “And that’s an issue for you?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “Not yet.”

  “But?”

  “She’s an amazing human being. She’s finally in a place where she can smile. If anyone, and I mean anyone, hurts her.” She stops.

  I get what she’s saying, but fuck if I’ll tell her that. It would be like admitting I have an interest in her, which I’d never say, because it can never be. “That’s why Celine is there, Angela.” I turn and sign the note, hoping that’s the end of the conversation.

  “And Autumn’s in New York.”

  It’s not, but it will be.

  “And Autumn’s in New York,” I repeat her words so she knows I heard them.

  While sitting at my desk, I read over the messages shared between Natasha and I and decide enough is enough and delete them.

  I stand and walk around the office, coming to a stall at the window overlooking the city.

  There are more than eight and a half million people in this city. Chances are, half are female. And yet, I want what I can’t have.

  It’s been over two years since I’ve had sex. Two fucking years, because I saw her, a girl who looked like Grace. And for two years I haven’t even given a fuck until right now when I realize how pathetic it is.

  Sitting at the bar just a couple blocks away from de la Porte, I toss back my fourth shot of Jameson, hoping it will take the fucking ache from my chest and loosen the knot in my stomach.

  I turn the bar stool around as I let out a breath and look around for something in the sea of nameless, faceless bodies on the dance floor that will dull the ache I feel.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Natasha

  Surprising Stella was the best thing I could have done for her, and myself. To see her smile, melted my heart. It�
��s been nearly a year since she left school to stay home caring for her father, and it doesn’t feel like a minute has passed since the first time we talked.

  Aaron and I hung out at her place all day with her. When Bruno, her not so little ‘bother’ left to spend the weekend with her mother, I told her and Aaron all about Bass, Mom, the designer who was snagged by Ines, and the fact that Bass came to me, behind my mother’s back and offered me a job, and why it was important that no one knows for now, because of Ines.

  I think my hearing will be permanently damaged from Stella’s shriek of excitement. Half an hour later, Aaron left to take care of some stuff and would be returning when her Dad’s nurse came, so that we could go out, something she hadn’t done in months. After he left, she fell apart.

  We cried together as she told me how she knew he would be gone soon, and she was upset because he only had one thing left on his ‘bucket list’, but she knew he wasn’t strong enough for the drive. She left Niagara Falls for the last trip, because it was the closest to home.

  She cried when she told me that she and Elijah had sex and although she knows he loves her, he seems to be coming around less and less. She cried harder when she told me she knew it was her fault and that he deserved better.

  I told her it was her who deserved better.

  She asked me about my dating life and I told her everything from Autumn lying to my roommate, to Oliver going along with it, to the fake-up, throwing up on him and him taking care of me. I didn’t tell her about the Crazy Stupid Love/Dirty Dancing kiss because that was stepping over the line, even I knew it, but it felt so good. When she told me I should go for it, I had to tell her a little bit more about him and the fact that he was a friend, one I now depended on, more than I cared to admit.

  The conversation then turned back to Elijah, and Stella agreed if I valued Oliver’s friendship, I shouldn’t ‘go for it’ after all.

  The entire day, her father slept, only waking when he was in pain. I watched as Stella laid with him until the medicine kicked in and he fell asleep. My heart breaking the entire time.

  When his nurse arrived, Aaron walked in behind her with a twenty million-megawatt smile that lit up the darkened mood that had moved in while he was gone.

  “You ladies better get dressed, we’re going out.” He winks at me, and then looks at Stella. “That means I want to see you in color, your hair out of a ponytail.” He looks at me. “Do your magic on her, Fancy Face. Her boyfriend is meeting us.”

  “Elijah’s coming?” Stella smiles, but she looks almost hurt.

  “Says he misses his girl.”

  When we pulled up in front of Manhattan Bar, Elijah was standing there waiting. When I got out, he smiled and gave me a hug, and when Stella got out looking like a million bucks, his hands tightened at his sides. When I looked at her to see if she noticed the effect she had on him, her gorgeous smile told me she did.

  An hour later and I’ve drank my first two illegal glasses of champagne, which Elijah brought to our private table in the VIP section to celebrate Stella’s second night out in over a year. I already knew her first was the night they slept together, when she lost her virginity in a car. The fact that it was a limo erased how cliché it was, her words not mine.

  When she and Elijah went out to dance, I was left alone with Aaron.

  “All the success looks good on you, Fancy Face.”

  “Meaning?” I laugh and he smiles.

  “Meaning, you look stronger, surer of yourself, accomplished.” He sits back in the leather booth and looks me up and down while rubbing his hand thoughtfully over his chin. “Sexy.”

  “Sexy?” I laugh. “Trust me, I’m not.”

  He sits forward and grabs the beer he’s been nursing since we arrived. He nods, “Definitely sexy.”

  He takes a sip of his beer, sets it back on the table, stands and offers me his hand. “Let’s dance.”

  I take his hand and stand before saying, “Sure.”

  By the time we get through the crowd, I have looked him over enough to know Aaron still is beautiful, but the effect he held over me, unbeknownst to him, has dulled.

  Sexy, I laugh as I pass the wall of mirrors and see the same girl I was when I left for college.

  Love Lies by Khalid is still playing when we finally get beside Stella and Elijah. When Aaron’s hands rest on my hips, I put mine on his shoulders and he begins to move.

  I think of how different he and Oliver dance. Where Oliver’s intensity made me feel inept, Aaron’s ease makes me feel immediately at ease. When he leans in and says, “Definitely sexy, confidence is probably the second most beautiful thing you could ever wear.”

  I laugh, and he leans back and smirks then turns me, stopping my movement when my back is to his chest. He takes my hand and places it on his neck and moves our bodies. “You didn’t ask what I thought would look sexier than confidence.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite, what would look better?”

  He turns me around so I’m facing him. “Me.”

  I can’t help but laugh out loud and he laughs too.

  The song changes to Burn the House Down and I attempt to step away.

  “No way, Fancy Face, it’s been a long damn time coming, dance with me.”

  I stand there doing the best I know how and watch him move. I look over when Stella grabs my hand.

  “Elijah’s going to get a drink, can I join you too?”

  “Hells yes,” I laugh.

  “Lady Lala, let’s see you bust out those moves,” Aaron laughs.

  “Imma make you look like a fool out here,” she grins.

  “I dare you.” He gives her a motion like he’s saying the floor is yours as he slides to the side and then begins to move, like a guy who should be in a damn boy band.

  Stella shakes her ass as she moves to her designated dancing spot and then moves her core in circles to the beat of the song as she lifts her hands up her body.

  “Damn Lala, something’s changed since that killer two-step.”

  “You bet your ass it has,” she laughs.

  “Now you.” He points to me.

  Screw it, I think as I dramatically cross one leg in front of the other to the beat until I get close enough to him that he needs to take a step back, yet the playful smirk on his lips tells me it’s not going to happen, so I turn sharply and put my hands on my hips, moving them from side to side as I drop lower and lower.

  “Damn, girls,” Aaron yells, and begins to dance between us.

  I don’t know how many songs we dance through, but by the time it changes to another slow song, I’m definitely ready for it.

  When the song starts, Aaron’s hands are on my hips when I recognize it. It’s the song Oliver and I danced to in Paris. I don’t know why, but it feels wrong to dance with Aaron to this song, so I tell him I need to use the bathroom.

  When I’ve almost made it through the crowd, I feel a chill up my spine that stops me, and I look behind me.

  Oliver.

  He’s wearing black dress pants with a gray dress shirt unbuttoned, exposing some of the black ink on his chest, with the sleeves rolled up.

  I feel warm inside when his eyes meet mine.

  He lifts his chin, and I close my eyes and smile.

  “What are you imagining?” There’s a rawness to the way he asks me that makes me question if it’s him or I’m imagining it.

  I open my eyes and he’s standing in front of me, looking around the club like he’s uncomfortable, like he doesn’t know if he belongs.

  He belongs.

  I pull his hand out of his pockets one at a time and place each on one of my hips and then reach up and link my hands behind his neck. “I’m imagining a dance ending with a smile and not me throwing up on you.”

  The tension in his jaw loosens, and a ghost of a smile comes and goes just as quickly.

  I lean in close enough to inhale a scent that’s become a favorite of mine, him. His fingers flex and then dig into my flesh a bit more than
Aaron’s. He moves us fluidly, there’s no show to it, no elaborate moves, just… this.

  He leans in and whispers, “What are you doing here?”

  I smell alcohol and look up and see the red in his eyes.

  “When did you sleep last?”

  He closes his eyes and pulls me a little closer. “Close your eyes, Little Warrior, you rest, I don’t need to.”

  I’m not sure how many songs we dance through, but I remember every one seemed to be about us. And there wasn’t even an us.

  When I feel a tap on my shoulder, I step back and find Stella.

  “Hey, I have to pee.”

  I look up at Oliver and he lets go of my hips and whispers, “Go.”

  Once in the bathroom, I start to shut the stall door.

  “Oh no,” Stella laughs uncomfortably as she comes in and shuts it behind her. “Tell me who the hell that was.”

  I pull my skirt up. “I have to pee.”

  “You’re shaking,” she says as she shakes her head.

  “Happens when I drink.”

  “Or when you walk away from the inked God of… heat.” She shakes her head back and forth in confusion. “Natasha, the way he looked at you… tell me you got his name.”

  “I know his name,” I sigh and begin to pee. “It’s Oliver.”

  “Natasha, say what!”

  “Oliver.”

  “Bass’s Oliver?”

  I nod.

  “Oliver who you puked on?”

  I nod again.

  “Oliver who stripped you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Bathed you?”

  “Ran a bath for me.”

  “I like my version better.” She shakes her head. “That man has it bad for you.”

  “That man is my friend.”

  “Which is a solid foundation to build on.”

  “Stella, it can’t–”

  “Yet, it is. I mean, for fuck, he gave me an eye-gasm and your skin is still… gasming.”

  “I get cold when I drink.”

  “So you mentioned.” She palms her forehead. “Has no one ever told you to lie to your parents, not your friends?”