by Sara Celi
Did you have a good time at the Hunt Club?
I read that line at least ten more times, dissecting and mulling it over. What a crazy, cryptic line. Was she following me? How did she know I was there? I’d ducked in the night before after wrapping up meetings about a block away, and it was the first time I’d been to that bar in at least eighteen months. The Hunt Club had a great selection though, and that day I had called for a strong Manhattan. I’d spent no more than a half hour there before my driver took me back to my penthouse on Park Avenue.
So how in the hell did she know about any of that?
I clicked reply on the email and contemplated what I should say in return. I had about a thousand things, none of them complimentary. She’d almost ruined my life, for Christ sakes.
But in the end, I closed the email and swept Olivia from my thoughts. That was in the past, where it belonged. Best to ignore her. She’d been a mistake that I couldn’t change, but that didn’t mean she would be a part of my future.
I had other things on my mind.
After I ended the call with Trevor, I sat in the kitchen for a long time, going over once again the whirlwind that had happened in my life over the last few days. Not only had I agreed to marry Trevor, but my entire life had begun changing before my eyes. The coverage of the engagement alone had been substantial. Page Six might have published the most detailed article, but I’d found plenty of other posts on New York City centric blogs and gossip sites. Even Harper’s Bazaar had gotten in on the action.
Which was why I had a phone call to make. One that couldn’t wait any longer. I poured myself a fresh cup of coffee and dialed the number.
“So,” my mom said, not bothering to greet me when she answered the phone. “You really did go through with it.”
“I did.”
“And you waited until it hit the news to call me and confirm it?” My mother tsked.
“Well, I figured you would already assume that I’d say yes to him.”
She sighed. “And I suppose this means that the gears are already turning. We’ve got a wedding to plan.”
“And an engagement party.” I sipped a large cup of brew. “Trevor and I talked about that a few minutes ago, and I think we want to plan something at the Flagler Museum for next month.”
“Oh, really?” My mother’s voice raised an octave, and I knew this development interested her. She had a knack for planning parties, and I’d never met a better hostess than her. If we were going to pull off a great party, she needed to be a part of it. “So soon? If I didn’t know better, I’d question why the two of you would be in such a rush.”
“I know. I know.” I drew in a long breath. “But will you help us make it a great night? We need this, Mom. Trevor wants more than anything for society to accept him, and I want…” I shook my head. “You know what I want.”
“You want to save your father’s legacy. And by extension, you think this will save the family.”
“Yes.” I drank some more coffee, savoring the bitter flavor as the heat of the liquid flowed over my tongue. “So, will you help us?”
“I will,” Mom said after a pause. “I’ll do it because if nothing else, I’m curious myself. I want to see how this all turns out.”
“Me, too.” I took my coffee cup and began pacing through my condo, winding in and out of the bedroom, living room, office, and kitchen. “But that’s not the thing about all of this, Mom. The fact is, he… When he proposed, Trevor had the ring I’d always wanted.” I paused in the hallway and took another look at the enormous diamond weighing down the fourth finger of my left hand. “I don’t just mean a similar style. This was—this is—the ring design I would have chosen every single time.”
“Can I see it?”
“Sure.” I flipped on the FaceTime app and switched the phone call to video. “Here.” I held up my hand. “See?”
My mother let out a low whistle. “I’m impressed.”
“I know.” Still FaceTiming with her, I walked into my bedroom, placed the coffee cup on the nightstand, and threw myself on to the fluffy comforter across my bed. “I don’t know how he got it right, but he did. It’s hard not to see it all as a sign.”
“That scares you a little, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” I stared at the ceiling. “Because it’s so unexpected. So uncanny.”
“And so real,” my mother added, finishing my thoughts.
A few days after, I strode into Namaste Now with my blue yoga mat tucked under my arm, ready for the 2:00 PM hot yoga flow practice. Given my newfound engagement, and the rosier outlook of our family’s finances, I’d decided to continue my workouts there and purchased a new round of classes from the studio website. Good thing, too, because now more than ever, I needed the relaxation and centering I got from the environment that Namaste Now offered.
Luke Rothschild stood behind the reception desk, and he looked up as the front door jangled, alerting everyone to my arrival.
“Early as usual. Good to see you, Ainsley.” He smiled. “I was expecting you.”
“Hey, Luke.” I tossed him a small wave, walked to the tablet affixed on the edge of the desk, and signed my name on it, officially checking in for the class, which was always taught by Natalie. “Can’t imagine why you were expecting me. It’s not like my life has anything major going on.” I winked.
“I’ve heard some news about you.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin, studying me. “Who hasn’t?”
“You mean about my upcoming wedding?” I glanced down at my ring finger. The glittering Cartier ring dwarfed my fingers, and a large part of me still marveled at Trevor’s uncanny ability to choose the ring I wanted. “It’s just been such a whirlwind lately—”
“How long have we known each other? Don’t bullshit me.”
My shoulders slumped, and I bit my bottom lip. I should have known better than to try to hide the truth from someone who’d spent a few decades in the orbit of my family. Dad got his first financing from the Rothschild family, and we’d been close to them ever since. Luke’s father had even been a pallbearer at Dad’s funeral. Luke was also a big reason why I’d taken up hot yoga, when he poached me from my usual personal trainer about a month after the first Namaste Now location opened.
“In fact, how long have I known both of you?” Luke braced his hands on either side of the reception desk and leaned across it. This amplified the muscles in his arms and the intensity in his gaze. “And while I’m sure you simply expect me to congratulate you, I know this goes deeper than that. For one thing, you haven’t been dating Trevor, have you?”
I cocked my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re engaged.”
Luke scoffed. “A very interesting development, since your dad and his used to have their own little real estate war going on.”
“War? I’d hardly call it a war.”
“Come, on. They sued each other for a hundred million over the failed development of 732 Park Avenue, Ainsley.” He shook his head a few times. “It was one of the biggest business scandals of the last few decades.”
“Well, people can change. That’s all in the past.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. But don’t try to fool me… you still don’t like him, and you certainly don’t love him. Neither does Ashton.”
“He’s actually pretty nice. Not as arrogant as I first thought.” I glanced at the short hallway that led to the women’s changing room. “Listen, Luke, you don’t have to be protective of me. If you think I’m going to get myself in over my head or something, don’t worry about it. I’m fine. Perfectly fine.”
“Are you sure? When people say they are fine in that kind of tone, they usually aren’t.”
“Well, ‘people’ might not, but I mean it.” I met his stare head on and tried not to blink. No one, not even Luke, needed to pick up on the chaos that had become my life. “So yeah, I’m sure.”
“Somehow, I don’t believe it.” He straightened, still s
tudying me. Then he lowered his voice. “You can talk to me, and you know that.” He glanced at the yoga studio entrance as if to assume this conversation would stay private, then he turned back to me. “Why are you doing this? What’s really going on with you, Ainsley?”
I blinked a few times. “Nothing. As I said, everything is fine.”
Luke might have given up everything for love, but he still wouldn’t understand. The Rothschilds didn’t have money problems—they had millions, and a golden parachute full of assets and social credit to bail them out of any jam. And besides, the risk he’d taken to be with Natalie had worked out for him. Over the last year or so, Namaste Now had become the go-to yoga studio this part of South Florida. They were well on their way towards becoming a major business in the area.
So, he wouldn’t get it.
“I want to marry Trevor, Luke. Promise. You know me. I don’t do anything unless I want to.”
A pregnant pause passed between us.
“Fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk to me about it, so I’ll stop prying. I’ll refrain from making an assessment about this. But…” Luke crossed his arms. “I just want you to know that being with Trevor McNamara comes with some… extras, and I’m not sure you’re prepared to handle it.”
I frowned. “Like what?”
“Well, there are at least—”
The door jangled again, and a crew of class attendees strode in from the parking lot. I recognized a few of them and said hello before giving Luke my attention again. “What were you trying to say?”
“Just that you need to be careful.”
“Why?” I frowned, and the look on Luke’s face made my stomach twist. “What makes you say something like that?”
As a few more people walked into the studio, Luke leaned over the desk, fixed his gaze on mine, and lowered his voice. “Trevor is a complicated man with a checkered past, Ainsley. Just make sure that you think this over before you do anything stupid, okay?”
I nodded as if I understood, but I didn’t. I couldn’t have. A ball of dread began to grow in my stomach.
What in the world had I gotten myself into?
By the time I picked up Ainsley for the International Refugee fund gala that following Saturday, any concerns about Olivia had faded from my mind. I’d digested that email over and over, before finally deciding I didn’t have anything to worry about. It was all in my head, and only as bad as I made it.
I still had control of the situation. If I had that, I had everything.
“You look gorgeous,” I told Ainsley when she opened the front door of her condo. It was a huge understatement—no words could really describe the way she appeared that night. Ainsley wore a long, beaded, silver gown that hugged her hips, and she’d piled her hair on top of her head. A silver bracelet accented the dress, and she carried a black-beaded clutch. “I mean…”
“Thank you.” She smiled, and her red lipstick showed off her straight teeth. “I tried.”
“I appreciate the effort.”
She locked the door behind her, and we walked together to the elevator. I could hardly stop staring at her. She must have noticed because as we rode the car to the bottom floor, she said, “I feel like you’re counting every sequin on this dress.”
“No,” I said. “But I’m hoping I can memorize this moment, and you in it.”
She cocked her head. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen anyone or anything so beautiful.”
The words slipped out of my mouth before I even thought about what I was saying, but once I heard them, I didn’t regret it, either. It was the truth.
“I mean that,” I said. “More than I’ve ever meant anything.”
We stared at each other, and a pulse of electricity seemed to pulsate between us. I wanted to hold onto that energy, whatever it was, and wrap it around the two of us, and it was right then that I realized I liked the way it felt to have her in my life. I liked the way she complimented and brightened an existence that, for years, had been so focused on what I could acquire.
I took a tentative step toward her and grabbed her hand. She didn’t pull away.
“I want us to have fun tonight,” I said. “Not because you’re my fiancée on paper, or because you need my money to save your family from bankruptcy. I want us to have fun… just because.”
“Just because?”
I nodded. “Will you do that with me? Just for one night?”
Her eyes seemed to search my face, and she waited a moment before the replied, “Okay, Trevor. You’ve got a deal.”
“Wonderful,” I said as the elevator doors opened to the Palm Beach Towers lobby.
The organizers of the International Refugee fund gala spared no expense with their décor of the Phillips Estate, turning the property into Vienna for the night. The home was one of the few in Palm Beach to span the width of the island, starting with private beach access and ending with a breathtaking view of West Palm Beach and the Intracoastal Waterway. When we arrived, liveried valets wearing powdered wigs and short pants greeted us, and models wearing large, hoop-skirted gowns and exaggerated makeup lined the steps to the entrance of the mansion.
We checked in by the front door, and I led Ainsley to the cocktail hour in the smaller of the estate’s two ballrooms.
“I always wonder if they’re going to kick me out at check-in,” I whispered to her as we swept into the room. “But they never do.”
“As long as the check clears, you’re in, ticket buyer.” She grinned. “You know, for a man who always wants to portray himself as confident, you really are insecure on the inside.”
I thumped a fist to my chest. “Guilty as charged.”
I snatched some champagne from the tray of a passing server and tucked the glass into the feminine curve of her palm, took one drink for myself, and guided her to the silent auction at the far end of the room. Jewelry, paintings, vacations, and spa gift cards stretched out on the long table.
“How many silent auctions have you seen in your lifetime?” I asked her.
She laughed. “Too many to count.” She raised her glass to mine and clinked it. “To beginnings.”
“To beginnings.” I drank my sip and didn’t take my gaze off her. Ainsley was gorgeous, refined, and sophisticated in a way most women who entered my world never were, and I liked that about her.
“I suppose we should bid on a few things,” I said when we finished the toast. “Start the process, right?”
She glanced around the room, then back to me. “Really?”
“Whatever you want.” I spread a hand. “Bid on anything.”
She turned and regarded a large Cartier necklace. It had sapphires the size of quarters and a platinum setting. The accompanying card said it retailed for $10,500. “How about this?” She took the pen off the clipboard in front of it. “No takers so far.”
“Fine with me,” I said.
She wrote down the number we’d received at check-in, then moved to a villa rental on the Amalfi Coast of Italy. A week there retailed for a starting price of $25,000, not including airfare. “I think I’ll bid on this one, too. Sounds fun.”
“And who will you go with if you win?” I drank some more champagne. The room had begun to fill up with people, and I saw a few who knew me. No one had walked over to us, though—at least, not yet.
“Hmmm… I’ll have to really think about that one. Tough call.” She wrote down her name and bid ten grand. “I doubt I’ll get it, but it’s fun to try.”
She did the same for a few other items, and just as she wrote her name down on the fifth one, Sylvia Donald, one of Palm Beach’s most well-known gossip columnists, approached us. “Ainsley Ross,” she trilled across the room. “I had no idea you were on the guest list tonight.”
Ainsley gave Sylvia a small hug and kissed her on both cheeks. “Well, I like to keep things a secret sometimes; you know that.”
“You’ve never attended this event before.” Sylvia’s voice had a small vocal fry,
and she tremored a little when she spoke. Sylvia reigned as Palm Beach’s leading social columnist. She’d been writing about Palm Beach comings and goings for at least the last twenty years, and I’d read her work in New York Social, Palm Beach Scene, The Palm Beach Daily News, and Vanity Fair. “I guess there is a first time for everything, though.” She adjusted the signature, black-rimmed glasses that she never seemed to leave home without. “And this is a wonderful cause. Fifteen thousand refugees helped just this year.”
“I’ve always wanted to attend, but the timing has been off.” Ainsley stepped closer me. “Sylvia, do you know Trevor McNamara?”
I extended my hand, and as Sylvia took it, a laugh escaped her lips. “But of course, I do, dear. We’ve never met, but I know him by reputation alone. Mr. McNamara, what a pleasure.”
“The feeling is mutual.” We dropped hands.
“And did I hear correctly? You’re getting married to Ainsley?” Sylvia gave Ainsley a conspiratorial grin. “Something about a whirlwind romance.”
“That’s right.” Ainsley took a step toward me. “Our families have known each other for years, but when we finally reconnected, things progressed very fast.”
Sylvia regarded us. “If by knowing each other, you’re referring the long-standing rivalry between your two families, then I would consider this quite a development, right?”
“Yes,” I said, careful to keep my voice even.
She smiled. “I wonder what your father would say, Ainsley.”
Ainsley stiffened. “I’m sure he’d approve.” She looked over and tossed me a wide smile. “Besides, what happened between our parents is all in the past. In fact, I like to think of it as something that eventually brought us together.”
“Wonderful.” Sylvia raised her own champagne glass in a mock toast aimed at the two of us. “I’m only sorry that I had to read about it in Page Six first.”
