by May, Linnea
I want to feel him, to touch his muscular chest, his face, his everything. But the grip he has on me is unbreakable.
A disappointed sigh escapes my lips when he retreats and ends our kiss.
I open my eyes and am instantly ashamed at my behavior. His grip doesn’t loosen one bit and I’m still incapable of moving my arms.
“How about those drinks now?” he asks, a confident smirk on his handsome face.
I’m panting like a bitch in heat, and just now realize that my mouth is still partly opened.
“You’re engaged,” I breathe, as if that was news to either one of us. “What the hell are you doing?”
He shakes his head.
“I told you, beautiful Elodie, not everything is always as it seems,” he says. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Yes, I do!” I insist. “I can’t –”
“Hush, hush,” he says, placing his index finger on my lips. “Trust me.”
Trust him? How can I trust a man like him?
“I don’t trust cheaters,” I whisper, despite his finger still on my lips.
I want to suck on that finger, and I blush at the thought of it, fueled with a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
He frowns at me and traces along the line of my jaw, traveling down to my neck. His fingertip is barely caressing my skin, but the shivers his touch sends through my body are so intense that it’s almost unbearable.
“It’s not cheating when there’s no love,” he says. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
Our eyes meet and I hope to God that the sincerity I see in his is not pure imagination.
“No love?” I ask.
His finger trails along my collarbone before he moves back to my neck and places his hand there, holding me in a strong grip at the back of my neck.
“No love,” he repeats. “That’s not what this is about.”
I furl my eyebrows, unsure what he’s talking about when he says ‘this’. His engagement? About what is happening between us right now?
Probably both.
I long for nothing more than to continue that kiss. I find myself leaning forward, silently begging for him to do what he did before and take the control away from me.
But he doesn’t do it this time. Instead, his eyes are locked on mine, searching for approval.
I’m torn between my agonizing desire for him and the rational voice that tells me to get out of this while I still can.
He’s so freaking off limits. It could destroy everything. My reputation, my career, his impending marriage. However, I have to admit that the latter is the least of my concerns.
“You don’t love Gloria,” I say. It was supposed to be a question, but it came out as a statement.
He takes his time to give me a reply. For what feels like an eternity, he just looks at me, his eyes narrow and his gaze intense, while the machinery behind his forehead is working at full speed.
He’s either lying or uncomfortable with confirming the truth, if what he’s implying is true.
“I don’t love Gloria,” he validates. “And she doesn’t love me.”
“That’s sad,” I say, biting my tongue. I’m usually not this straightforward, let alone judgmental.
“Most of all, it’s true,” he retorts. “That is all you need to know for now.”
He places another kiss on my lips, just an innocent peck before he straightens up.
“Come, have a drink with me,” he repeats his offer.
I almost say yes. My core is still trembling, my heart still racing, and my cheeks still flushed. I’m dizzy with lust, and if I’d allow myself to follow the dangerous thoughts and ideas that draw me toward him, I’d agree in an instant.
Luckily, I’m smarter than that.
I clear my throat and distance myself from him.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I have to go home.”
I don’t wait for him to reply, but hurry to gather my sheets of music from the floor. After watching me for a few moments, he goes down on his knees next to me and collects a few of my sheets, piling them up in a neat stack before he hands them over to me.
Our eyes meet when I take them, and I almost regret my decision when I see the disappointment reflected in the depth of his dark gray eyes. He’s not mad, or at least he doesn’t show it. He just looks like someone who had to accept a setback.
However, he doesn’t look like someone who’s about to give up.
Chapter XII
Elodie
“No session at the Abrams’ residence today?” my roommate Kim asks when she sees me lounging on my bed as she enters the room.
I lazily turn my head toward her.
“Not today,” I say, even though she has good reason to ask. Even though my encounter with Kingston left me unraveled and confused, I continue to practice in the family’s music room as often as possible. I’ve been there three times since that sinful kiss, but Kingston has never shown up again. It was either his mother or Wally who would open the door for me, and both women seem to enjoy my company.
“It’s so nice to hear you play while I clean,” Wally once told me. “The house is so empty and lonely most of the time.”
I feel most comfortable when it’s just her and me in the vast and luxurious house. Wally doesn’t eye me the way the homeowners do. She doesn’t make me feel out of place or under-dressed in any way.
Mrs. Abrams never said anything about my appearance, but the mere contrast between her and me is a painful reminder of how different our lives are. She’s very polite, but in a distant way. Yet, she’s very insistent on letting me know that I’m welcome to practice as often as I need, and she never lets me leave without telling her when I’ll be back next. She appears to be a busy woman, even though it’s a mystery to me what could possibly keep her so occupied.
She’s so nice to me, which makes what happened between me and Kingston all the worse for me. I feel as if I’ve betrayed her trust. She may like me for our Juilliard connection and the fact that I remind her of a time in her life that’s long gone, but obviously had a significant impact on her. If she knew that I kissed her soon-to-be-married son…
Or that he kissed me. He was the one who started it. I just didn’t stop the kiss. At least I managed to avoid things from going any farther than that.
Kim throws her bag in the small corner that’s on her side of the room and drops down on her chair, facing me.
“What are they like?” she wants to know.
“Who?” I ask, sitting up on my bunk bed. “The Abrams family?”
“Yeah,” Kim says, nodding. “I’ve heard so much about them and the Waldorf family. I just wonder how much of it is true.”
“Heard so much about them?” I wonder. “Like what?”
Kim is just about to answer my question, when she pauses and glances over to our door. She gets up and walks over to close it, before she gets back on her chair and looks at me through wide eyes.
“I mean, it’s just gossip, you know. They’re big names on the Upper East Side, old money families with strong ties to everyone who’s rich and important. A lot of Juilliard teachers and students have performed in those circles.”
I shrug. “Yes, I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, but I bet you don’t know this…”
She pauses and leans forward, casting me a conspirational look.
“Like, one girl from my orchestra has worked for the Waldorfs recently,” she continues, now with a lowered voice, as if she was afraid someone could hear us. “It was ridiculous, she said. One of the Waldorf brats had a birthday party and asked for a private solo violin concert.”
“One of the daughters?” I ask. “Was her name Gloria?”
Kim shakes her head.
“No, someone younger,” she says. “Isn’t Gloria Waldorf the girl you‘re playing for? The bride-to-be?”
I nod. “Yes, that’s why I was wondering.”
“Well, it wasn’t her. Maybe her younger sister? Or a cousin? In any cas
e, she was at the party,” Kim recounts. “I know she was there, because so was her fiancé, what’s his face Abrams –”
“Kingston,” I interject. “His name is Kingston.”
Kim nods enthusiastically and points her finger up in the air. “Yes, exactly! Kingston! I heard he’s quite the looker? Super handsome and fit and stuff?”
I blush and hope to God that Kim doesn’t notice it. If she does, she doesn’t say anything about it.
“Yeah, he’s good looking,” I say, making the understatement of the year. “But she’s very pretty, too.”
Kim huffs.
“Aren’t they all?” she says. “Those rich kids… Well, anyway. My friend, you know, the violinist, she said that at that birthday party, she heard Gloria talking to one of her friends and… oh my God, swear to me you won’t tell anyone?”
I furl my eyebrows. “Don’t tell anyone what?”
“She’s sleeping with other guys!” Kim exclaims. “Like, at the time of the birthday party, Gloria and Kingston were already an item, it was shortly before they announced their engagement, so not too long ago. But my friend said that after her performance she was invited to stick around and have a drink or something, and that’s when she heard Gloria bragging to her friends about all the different guys she was sleeping with.”
Not everything is as it seems.
His words are ringing in my ears. Kingston has told me that there was no love between them, and he might have suggested that there was no commitment either. I just didn’t want to hear it.
I arch my eyebrows, trying to act more shocked at the revelation than I actually am.
“Are you sure?” I ask. “She’s cheating on him?”
Kim nods. “Big time! And her friends didn’t even seem to be appalled or anything. It’s so weird! They all acted as if it was the most normal thing in the world.”
I lower my eyes. “Well, I guess to some people it is.”
“To those people, maybe,” Kim says. “It’s so disgusting. Like in the old times, when people just got married to unite two different kingdoms.”
“That could be it,” I presume.
“Ugh,” Kim makes, shaking her head with disgust. “How sick. My friend said that while Gloria was very open about it among her friends, she made them swear not to talk about it with anyone else, especially their parents. So it’s kind of an open secret and everybody just acts as if this was a normal wedding, a real wedding, you know, between two people who love each other, when it’s really just some kind of deal.”
She pauses and contemplates for a few moments, before she giggles. “Oh man, they have to produce heirs, too. I wonder how they get that done?”
“Do you think he sleeps around, too?” I ask, surprised at myself. “Kingston, I mean. Her fiancé.”
Kim regards me with a look of surprise.
“Obviously,” she says. “He’s known to be one of the worst players ever. My friend said that she actually felt sorry for Gloria, before she heard her talk like that on the party, because the rumors about him are so bad.”
“What rumors?” I want to know.
Kim looks at me as if that was dumbest question she’s ever heard.
“Have you been living under a rock?” she asks.
I frown at her. “No? Maybe I just don’t have as much time as other people to engage in gossip.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Kim says, waving me off. “But everybody has heard about the Abrams sons, both of them. I have no idea why that guy, Kingston, would even agree to marry. Maybe he’s being forced somehow? He has a terrible reputation as an asshole heart breaker, dropping girls left and right after lying his head off.”
Kim pauses and looks at me through narrow eyes.
“You’ve met him, right?” she wants to know.
I try acting as unfazed as possible. “Yes, once. The first time I introduced myself to the family.”
“Oh,” she says. “Well, watch out. Apparently he doesn’t even shy away from people who work for him or his family. I heard that one of his father’s interns had to quit because of him.”
I prick up my ears. “She had to quit? Why?”
Kim shrugs. “Because they hooked up, it became public information, no one batted an eye about him, but she was suddenly considered a slut and people started talking behind her back, suggesting that she only hooked up with him to have an advantage or something.”
“Oh,” I say, trying to hide the cold shower of fright traveling down my spine.
“It’s so unfair!” Kim exclaims. “Boys like him get to do whatever they want and they’re celebrated as heroes, the cool players. And girls? We get slut-shamed if we’re just looking for a little fling.”
Our eyes meet and she gasps as she suddenly remembers.
“Well, you know what I’m talking about,” she says, lowering her voice. “After what happened with Benjamin.”
I furl my eyebrows.
“Do I?” I ask. “Are people talking about that?”
Kim clears her throat and slowly shakes her head. “Not really. Not people…”
I sit up on my bed and lean down to her.
“Did you hear anything?” I want to know. “Why would anyone talk about me that way? Who would even care?”
“Benjamin,” she says, looking at me like a kid who got caught in the act because she just spilled the beans on something she was supposed to keep to herself.
“Benjamin?” I repeat. “What would he say? We just hooked up a few times. It was nothing. That would barely qualify me as a slut!”
Kim shakes her head.
“No, of course not!” she agrees. “And I don’t agree with him at all! But, he’s just… hurt, you know? I mean, you do know.”
I nod. “Yeah, he didn’t take it that well.”
“Oh, I shall say,” Kim says. “I didn’t want to tell you because I don’t think anyone is listening to him anyway, but he… well, he’s been spreading some stuff about you. I don’t think it’s true! And like I said, I don’t even think anyone even listens to him and –”
“What has he been saying?” I ask, jumping from my bed. My heart is racing with fury.
Kim sighs. “Oh, boy, I shouldn’t have mentioned it…”
“Kim,” I urge. “What has he been saying about me?”
“Ugh, nothing really, it’s nonsense –”
“Kim, please!” I screech.
“Well, he kinda‘ said that you lied to him,” she finally says. “He said that you lead him on to believe that you were in love with him, so that he’d commit to you.”
I shrug.
“So?” I ask. “That’s a lie, a very bad one at that. Doesn’t sound too bad.”
“And he also said that you cheated on him,” Kim continues. “And that you were sleeping around with several guys, and even… took money from some of them.”
“What?!” I yell. “He said what?!”
Kim flinches and tries to hush me.
“Really, Elodie, I wouldn’t worry about it, no one believes him anyway,” she says, raising her hand in a defensive gesture, trying to calm me down.
“Kim, this is not funny,” I say with a quavering voice. “He’s telling people that I prostitute myself!”
“He’s a loser, Elodie,” Kim says. “It’s an obvious lie, everyone knows that.”
“But you of all people know how gossip works,” I say. “However ridiculous and unbelievable it may be, rumors like that spread like wildfire, and eventually there are going to be enough people who actually believe that stuff and then –”
“No, no,” Kim interrupts me. “That’s impossible, Elodie. I’m positive that won’t happen.”
I’m so furious that I could cry. But I realize that Kim is not the person who deserves my anger right now. After all, she’s just the messenger.
“When did you first hear about it?” I ask her.
She looks at me through wide eyes.
“I don’t know,” she says. “A few days ago?”
> And here I was thinking that the only person who could endanger my reputation would be Kingston Abrams and his seductive ways.
How could Benjamin do this to me? I don’t deserve this.
“I’ve got to talk to him,” I whisper, more to myself than to Kim.
“He’s gone for the week,” Kim reminds me. “Some kind of workshop upstate.”
“Of course, he is,” I sigh. I reach up to my bed and grab my phone from the little shelf next to my cushion. While I may not be able to confront the asshole upfront, I need to let him know that I’m aware of his pathetic display.
Chapter XIII
Kingston
I know her schedule. Elodie shows up at my parents’ home three times a week now, every Monday, Tuesday and Friday. Those are the afternoons and evenings when she doesn’t have classes and doesn’t have to work at her part time job.
I don’t have a habit of dropping by my childhood home all that often, so it’s not hard to stay out of her way. I haven’t given up on her, though. That’s not what I do. I’m not a quitter.
However, I’m not getting anywhere with her. That kiss. Those lips. She tasted fantastic, and she welcomed my invasion like a good girl. I could feel her slim and innocent body under my hands, shivering and burning for me.
That sigh when I confined her hands to the side of her body…
And then it stopped.
She put an end to it and was out of my sight within seconds. She fled out the door, and I didn’t follow her or even ask to drive her home.
I just let her go.
And I’ve been avoiding her ever since.
My gaze darkens as I fixate on the drink in my hands. I’m sitting at my parents’ dinner table with Gloria at my side. We’re alone because neither my father nor my mother has blessed us with their presence yet.
“It’s unusual for them to make us wait,” Gloria says, casting a glance at her wristwatch.
“Not really,” I say, remembering a thousand instances when my parents would play the diva card and show up whenever it fit their schedule.
