by T. K. Leigh
“Right.” I form my mouth into a tight line, suppressing the flicker of hope his gesture gave me. “So is there anything I should know about the people who will be there today?”
“This is more of a casual get-together at David Gittney’s house.”
“Old money or found money?”
He passes me a sly smile as he shifts into fifth, then returns his hand to my thigh. “Very good. You remember. David is old money.”
I purse my lips, trying to understand the proverbial caste system that appears to be in place here in the Hamptons. “If he’s old money and looks down upon people with found money, as you claim—”
“Which he does.”
“Then why does he invite you to his parties?”
“They like to flaunt the fact that this has been their lives for as long as they can remember, that they’re the equivalent of American royalty. Old money invite new money so there are warm bodies at their parties, at least more than the few dozen people who’d attend if they kept it strictly old money. Found money goes in the hopes to finally be accepted. It’s a game that’s been taking place for ages now. And I have a feeling it will continue even when I’m dead. The current found money will eventually become old money and a fresh batch of newly minted millionaires and billionaires will strive for acceptance.”
“Well…” I settle into the black leather. “I suppose I’m in store for a rather eye-opening summer. Anything I should keep in mind? Should I act a certain way? Not swear? Stuff like that?”
He flashes me his debonair smile as he pulls his car up to an elaborate iron gate. “Just be your normal, charming self. Don’t change who you are for these people. I chose you because of who you are. Don’t blend into the crowd. Stand out.”
“It’s hard not to stand out with bright red hair,” I joke.
“That’s not what I mean. You’d stand out even if you had a black curtain tossed over you. I’d never ask you to change who you are to suit my needs.”
I face forward, reminded of my breakup with Trevor.
“I like you as you, and that will never diminish. Anyone who takes for granted how incredible you are doesn’t deserve you. Remember that.”
“But aren’t you trying to convince these people you’re someone you’re not?”
“I’m not trying to convince them I’m someone I’m not.” He returns his eyes to the driveway, continuing up an even more extravagant and impressive paved path than the one leading up to his estate. I didn’t think such a thing were possible. Again, I’m proven wrong.
“But you said it yourself. You’re not cut out for the relationship thing.”
He pulls to a stop in front of a sprawling home that rivals many of the mansions I’d seen in Newport during a trip I’d taken with Trevor. When a valet attendant approaches the car, opening my door, Julian leans toward me. “And I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I sleep around, either. Because I don’t. I don’t lead women on. I am upfront and honest with everyone from the beginning, just like I was with you.”
He steps out of the car and I do the same, allowing one of the attendants to help me to my feet. When Julian reaches me, I part my lips, wanting to press further, but the warning in his gaze reminds me we’re on display for everyone. I glance past him to see other cars pulling up behind his, curious eyes observing us. Some indifferent, others tainted with animosity.
“Ready?”
I nod quickly, swallowing down my nerves. He rests his hand on my lower back, steering me up a grand staircase leading into a palatial home that screams money. Crystal chandeliers. Marble tiles. High ceilings. Pristine furniture. Rare art. It is the quintessential display of wealth.
After navigating our way through the house, we step out of a pair of French doors and onto the back patio, the pool party already in full force. There must be over two hundred people in attendance, not to mention a band set up on a stage in the corner, playing hits of the 80s and 90s.
You know those cliché scenes in coming-of-age movies when a girl moves to a new school and walks into the cafeteria that first day, knowing absolutely no one? That’s how I feel now. Except I’m at a five-star cafeteria and naked. At least I feel naked. That could be the only thing to explain the dozens of eyes that instantly zero in on us, the whispers washing over my skin.
Able to sense my nerves, Julian turns toward me and grabs my chin, tilting my head back.
“Be yourself. These first few days will be the hardest. People will wonder who you are. And some women here today will most likely be catty. Don’t let them get to you.”
He brings a thumb to my lower lip, brushing against my flesh. One touch and I’m completely intoxicated by this man and the way my body responds to even the slightest graze of his skin against mine. I crane my head back, the distance between our mouths diminishing with each heartbeat. I’m no longer paying attention to the band rattling off Jenny’s phone number or the people squeezing past us to get through. It’s just Julian. Just this. Just us.
“Don’t let anything they say or do make you think you’re anything less than the amazingly beautiful and vibrant woman you are. In my opinion, you’re the most beautiful woman here.”
He runs a lithe finger down the curve of my neck, the warmth of him so close unhinging me. My eyes flutter into the back of my head, my skin flushing, my knees weakening.
“I think that’s enough to get them talking. Let’s go enjoy the party.”
When I no longer feel the heat of his breath so close, I open my eyes, struggling to calm my racing heart and act as if Julian hadn’t brought me to the edge of complete and utter bliss with his words alone. After taking several deep breaths to compose myself, I link my hand in his.
“If whatever project you’re working on doesn’t pan out, you’d make a damn good escort,” I joke in a husky voice as he leads me past a crowd of curious onlookers.
“Is that right?” His tone is amused.
“That’s right.”
“And what makes you say that?” He leans toward me, whispering into my ear, “Do I turn you on?”
“You could probably make a lesbian want to have a go with you just to be sure she really is gay.”
He’s silent for a moment before he bursts out laughing, the sound carrying over the band. It’s so natural and addictive. How can anyone not feel a pull toward this man?
“Thanks for your vote of confidence, but I doubt I could ever be an escort.”
“You never know. You could give August Laurent a run for his money. He’s got a great voice, too, but not like yours.”
We approach a bar and he places our drink order — manhattan for me, scotch for him. Then he faces me. “You’ve spoken to him?”
“I have.”
His eyes brighten in genuine enthusiasm. “How did you manage that?”
“I got lucky.” I shrug. “Someone mentioned I was looking for him…a little birdie, as he put it. He tracked me down, called my office line, and bam. Now we’re email pals.”
“Email pals?” He brings his glass to his lips as he steers me away from the bar and toward a vacant table tucked out of the way. For someone who needs to conduct business, he seems to be paying a great deal of attention to me.
“Yes.” The perfect gentleman, he helps me into a wood slat chair. “We’ve been exchanging emails the past few days.”
“Getting good material for your story?”
I bring the chilled martini glass to my lips, savoring that first sip of my drink. “He’s a bit…aloof. He doesn’t like to share much. But I’m working on it. I just need to establish a rapport with him. Then he’ll open up.”
“Good.”
“Good.” I watch as he shifts his attention away from me, searching the partygoers.
An unnerving silence settles between us as he rests his hand on my thigh like he did in the car. And just like in the car, I know it’s not real. There’s no emotion behind his fingers as they delicately brush my skin. No yearning building deep inside as he steals a
glance at me. No unyielding desire as he leans toward me and nuzzles the crook of my neck. It’s all for show. That’s become my mantra these past few minutes. I have a feeling that will become my mantra these next few months, too, a constant reminder there’s absolutely no meaning behind anything he does or says, despite what my heart wants to believe.
“Julian!” a voice shouts, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I follow his line of sight to see a man approach. He has short, shaggy, copper hair, fair skin, and a slight five o’clock shadow, although it’s not too noticeable due to the light hue. His nearly six-foot frame is dressed in a pair of swim trunks and an open, white button-down. That appears to be the unspoken uniform amongst the men, while the trend with women seems to be who can wear the smallest piece of fabric and still be able to call it a bathing suit. Despite all the females being dressed as if ready to go for a swim, not a single one of them is in the pool. In fact, no one is in the pool. I wonder if that’s customary at these things. Have a pool party, wear a bathing suit, but don’t think about getting into the water.
“Christopher! Good to see you.” Julian stands from the table, appearing genuinely happy to see him. Then again, it could be an act, too. I never know what to think with him.
“So this is her? The girl you haven’t been able to stop talking about?” He looks from Julian to me, then back again.
“Sure is. Christopher, this is Guinevere Fitzgerald. Guinevere, this is Christopher Albright.”
“Nice to meet you.” I stand up, holding out my hand.
He grasps it. “You, as well. I’ve heard a great deal about you, Guinevere. Please. Sit. Sit.” He gestures to my chair as he occupies the free one across from me.
“You can call me Evie,” I instruct as I return to my seat. “Everyone else does. Except this guy.” I jab Julian playfully in the stomach once he lowers himself back to his chair.
“He’s always been pretty formal, at least as long as I’ve known him, which is since freshman year of college.”
“Is that right?”
“Sure is. I can tell you some incredibly embarrassing stories about the guy. Trust me. He used to be awkward. And scrawny.”
“Please tell me you have pictures.”
He smiles. “Of course.”
“If you want to keep my company’s 401k account,” Julian interrupts, gritting a smile, “you’ll keep those photos to yourself. And you were just as awkward.”
At that moment, a stunning brunette wearing a yellow two-piece sidles up to the table, placing a kiss on Christopher’s temple before turning her attention to me. Her eyes are the color of honey, her hair full with perfect beach waves falling to mid-back. Her smile is warm, which makes it difficult for me to hate the fact she has the physique most women would kill for — tall, slender, but still with a classic hourglass shape.
“Is this her?” she asks excitedly.
“Now I know why my ears have been ringing the past few days,” I answer, holding my hand toward her. “Hi. I’m Evie.”
“Sadie. And try weeks.” She plops down on the last free chair, taking a sip of what appears to be a cosmo.
“Weeks?” I furrow my brow. “What do you mean weeks?”
“That’s how long Julian’s been talking about you. It’s about time he found a good girl, instead of playing the perennial matchmaker.”
“Matchmaker?” I look back at Julian. I never would have pegged him for a guy who’d go around setting people up on dates, considering he seems rather averse to being in a relationship himself.
“He introduced me to Christopher several years ago. Now we’re about to celebrate our fifth wedding anniversary.”
“Sadie is one of the first friends I made out here in the Hamptons,” Julian explains.
“Is that right?” I smile nervously, looking between them. I can picture them as a couple. Both gorgeous with incredible bodies. They look more like a couple than Julian and I do. And Sadie and Christopher.
“Not like that,” she interjects quickly, her eyes wide. “No, no, no. We never… Ya know. Our relationship’s always been strictly platonic.”
“Even if it hadn’t, it’s okay.” I place my hand on Julian’s thigh. It’s the first time I’ve initiated contact between us. But it’s what feels natural, what I would do if Trevor were here with me and we were having this conversation with one of his friends. I meet his eyes. “He’s here with me now. That’s all that matters. Not the past. Not the future. Just right now.”
I keep my gaze locked with his, the outside world seeming to melt away. It’s not until I hear Sadie that I look back at her.
“Aww…” She covers her heart, her eyes bright and smile wide. “That is the sweetest thing. Isn’t it, babe?” She glances at Christopher.
“It’s about time,” he jokes in response. “Maybe now I won’t have to field this asshole’s phone calls about reinvesting portions of his portfolio at all hours of night or on weekends.” He brings his beer to his lips, looking at me from over the bottle. “Promise me you’ll keep him occupied outside regular office hours, okay?”
I lean into Julian, giving him a demure look. “I’m sure I can keep him very busy.”
Christopher whistles as Sadie claps, but I don’t look their way. I can’t, the raw need covering Julian’s expression catching me off-guard. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he were about to throw me over his shoulder and haul me into the house so we could find somewhere private. My thighs squeeze involuntarily at the notion.
Remembering where I am, I clear my throat, looking back at Sadie and Christopher. “So, how did Julian play matchmaker?” With a trembling hand, I bring my drink to my mouth, needing the alcohol to cool the flames building inside.
“At one of his parties,” she answers.
“Sadie is what you’d call old money,” Christopher adds.
“Well, used to be,” she corrects.
I pull my brows together. “Used to be? How’s that?”
She shrugs. “Marriage.”
“What—”
“I’m old money, but married no money.”
“Thanks for emasculating me, sweetie,” Christopher quips as he drapes an arm across her shoulders, but the smile never leaves his face.
“Anytime.” She lowers her voice. “You’ll eventually figure it out, but there’s a bit of a hierarchy out here.”
“Julian’s already given me the Cliff Notes.” I glance at him, about to rest my hand on his thigh once more, but stop myself, his heated stare still trained on me. We’re definitely playing with fire. I think he’s finally realized that. “About old money and found money,” I finish, facing Sadie once more.
“Well, I grew up in old money. Granddaddy was big in steel in the early 1900s. Made his fortune and was smart, so he didn’t lose much during the Great Depression. Anyway, some of the more conservative families prefer their offspring to marry within their ‘station’,” she explains, using air quotes. “Like my parents.”
“But you didn’t.”
“They may view love and marriage as a business relationship, one for profit, but I don’t. When I first met Christopher, I couldn’t help but feel a connection. He was smart, charming, funny, a breath of fresh air from all the stuffy people I’ve always known. My parents thought it was just a phase.” Her expression drops as she toys with the ring on her left hand. It’s stunning and a decent-sized rock, but not nearly as extravagant as some of the jewelry I’ve seen on other women here. “I think they sometimes think it’s still a phase.”
She smiles at Christopher, but it doesn’t reach her eyes this time. I sense she still struggles with the tension that must exist between her parents and the man she loves. I couldn’t imagine having to choose one or the other. I was lucky to have a boyfriend my parents adored.
“But that doesn’t matter. They can drop my social standing a few pegs all they want. It won’t change anything.”
“Then why do you still come to these things?” I wave my free
hand around. “I could be wrong, but it sounds like you’re pretty fed up with the way things are and want no part of it.”
She leans toward me. “That’s true. But I love showing off the fact that I’m genuinely happy. Most of these people wouldn’t know happiness if it slapped them in the face. And it ruffles their feathers to know I’ve found it. That no matter what they do, they can’t take that away from me.”
“Wow.” I shake my head, absorbing Sadie’s story. “It all seems a bit antiquated.”
She raises her drink. “Welcome to the Hamptons, where the caste system is alive and well.” After she takes a sip, she returns her glass to the table. “So, did you two really meet in a bar?”
I’m about to confirm this when Julian’s voice cuts through. “We sure did.”
I turn my head, meeting his eyes. There’s still an intensity within, but it’s not as pronounced as it was. He pulls me close, his fingers tracing a delicate circle on my bicep. I attempt to melt into his embrace, wanting it to appear as natural as possible.
“Her ex had just broken up with her and she decided to share her story with the entire bar.”
Sadie’s eyes widen. “You didn’t!”
I blanche as Julian continues. “It was far more entertaining than any stand-up routine I’ve seen.” Pride drips from his statement, his hold on me tightening. “Guinevere has a gift with words. So I suppose I should thank her ex for being a complete idiot. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t be sitting next to this incredible, amazing, captivating woman who seems to have weaseled her way into my heart practically overnight.”
He speaks with such passion, such fervor, such affection, it’s hard to imagine this is simply an act. But as Shakespeare so succinctly put it in As You Like It, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” Now is my time to play the part of Julian’s girlfriend. Come September, the curtain will close and I’ll go on to the next act of my life.
Chapter Nineteen
