by May, Linnea
Gloria sighs. “Well, they’ve never left me waiting.”
I ignore her and take another sip from my drink. Whisky, from an aged triple cask. Only the best stuff is served at my parents’ house and Wally knows exactly what I like. She’s rummaging in the kitchen, adding the final touches to our dinner. Our weekly dinner is one of the many obligations that force Gloria and me to act like a real couple, even if it’s only in front of our parents, two people who should understand how fake our relationship really is.
In a way, they probably see it as practice for us. If we learn to behave like a normal couple, like two people who are in love, it would help us maintain our ruse. I’m fairly certain that a part of them hopes we might actually fall in love if we’re forced to spend this much time together. As far as I’m concerned, the fact that my parents keep us waiting right now is nothing but another attempt at creating a situation that forces Gloria and me to interact with each other.
“Heard you were seen at the club last weekend,” Gloria says, looking at me through her thickly painted lashes.
“Heard?” I ask. “From whom?”
She huffs. “My guys. You know I have friends everywhere. Listen Kingston, I’m not stupid. But you should really be more careful.”
She looks at me with a snarky face. “What kind of image does that convey? You, out and about on the weekend, picking up some dumb bimbos while your poor fiancée is waiting for you at home?”
Now I’m the one huffing. The thought of Gloria sitting home alone, waiting for me to come to her to snuggle up under the covers, it’s just too ridiculous.
“I highly doubt that’s what you were doing,” I say taking another sip from my drink.
She chuckles.
“Of course not,” she pipes. “But unlike you, I’m smart enough to play out my little adventures in private, behind closed doors. Not in plain sight for everybody to see.”
I don’t even want to know. I don’t care about her exploits, and I don’t even know if she has many interchangeable lovers at the moment or just one steady guy. It doesn’t concern me at all and I don’t care.
“For everybody to see,” I repeat, shaking my head. “Sorry, Gloria, I think you overestimate our celebrity status. No one cares about our private lives that much.”
“That’s not true,” she says, shaking her head like a teacher responding to a student who just gave the wrong answer to one of her questions. “There are a lot of people who care, and it would hurt our reputation if –”
“Whatever,” I interrupt her. “None of them are hanging out at the same places where I like to spend my nights. And who the fuck cares about rumors?”
“You should care!” she hisses. “Your reputation is bad enough already. No one wants to do business with an idiotic whippersnapper who can’t control his dick and fucks around like a horny teenager. You’re about to take over your father’s position for God’s sake, and I’m helping you do so. You better help us by making this work.”
“You’re not doing this to help me,” I snap at her. “You’re doing this because you want your parents to get off your back and to be left alone and free to continue carrying on with your parties and lovers.”
We glare at each other, disgusted by one another just as much as by ourselves.
Luckily, my parents choose this moment to finally make an appearance in the dining room.
“Oh, we’re sorry to make you wait,” my mother coos, completely oblivious to the infuriated tension between us.
“Don’t worry about it,” Gloria says, beaming at my mother. “We were just talking about the engagement party.”
She smiles at me, and I really have to keep it together not to let anyone see how much her fake attitude disgusts me.
“It’s getting closer,” my father says, as he pulls out the chair for my mother to sit.
“Are you getting excited?” my mother asks, smiling at Gloria and then at me. It’s obvious that there’s only one answer she’ll accept.
“Yes, very,” Gloria says, her voice so high-pitched that it hurts my ears.
While they engage in their girlish smalltalk, my mind wanders back to the only feature of our engagement party that excites me: the pianist.
Sweet, innocent Elodie and her erotic expressions while she plays. She is driving me nuts and I don’t see how I’m supposed to get through that ludicrous event if I haven’t had her yet. I might attack and ravage her that night, during her performance, while everyone watches.
Fuck, how I’d love that. Her horrified eyes, her cheeks blushed while I force her to ride my cock.
This has to happen. And it will happen.
I just don’t know how yet.
Our dinner is served, and halfway through the entree, my attention returns to the conversation at the table, as I hear Elodie’s name mentioned.
“She’s a talented artist, that girl,” my mother praises her. “And so diligent. She works very hard on cultivating that talent of hers; it’s quite admirable.”
“Absolutely,” my father agrees, even though I’m sure he barely listened to my mother’s exact words. He doesn’t care about Elodie one bit, but he’s all about diligence and hard work. My entire upbringing is proof of that.
“And to come from such dire circumstances,” my mother continues. “She certainly wasn’t born with a silver spoon in her mouth.”
Gloria huffs. “Yeah, one could tell, with her clothes basically falling apart when she first showed up here.”
My mother doesn’t say anything, but regards her with a warning look.
“Dire circumstances?” I ask.
My mother turns to me, arching her eyebrows in a gesture of empathy.
“Oh, yes, I talked to her teacher for a bit when I first inquired about a student to hire,” she says. “She has no mother, and the father… well, let‘s just say he doesn’t exactly rely on liquid poison in moderation. I don’t think she can expect anything from him when it comes to supporting her education. She has a scholarship.”
“And a part-time job,” I add.
All eyes turn to me.
“Yes,” my mother says, her eyes wide in surprise. “How did you know?”
I shrug. “Just an assumption.”
Gloria’s eyes stay on me a little longer than I feel comfortable with. She may be hateful, but she’s not stupid. If anyone ever finds out about my interest in Elodie, I’m sure she’d be the first one. If I have a choice, I’d like to prevent that from happening.
“In any case, we shouldn’t mock her for her poverty,” my mother adds. “Especially when she’s working so hard on getting somewhere with her talent.”
My father nods quietly.
I don’t let it show, but my mother’s words sparked an idea inside my head that could endear myself to Elodie – or end in an absolute catastrophe. It’s perfect. No risk, no fun.
“We should really consider taking her on for the wedding reception, as well,” my mother continues singing her praise of Elodie. “And the rehearsal dinner, if that requires music.”
“I don’t mind,” Gloria says. “It would be easier than having to look for someone else. Right, Kingston?”
The way she looks at me suggests nothing good. I reciprocate her look without showing any sign of emotion.
“Right,” I agree.
Chapter XIV
Elodie
“There’s a package for you,” Kim announces when I bump into her in our apartment. She’s on her way out, while I just came back from class to change before I get on my way over to the Abrams’ residence to practice.
“I put it on your table,” Kim adds, as she rushes past me.
“A package for me?” I ask, bewildered.
She stops with her hand on the doorknob and turns back to me.
“Yeah,” she says. “You weren’t expecting anything?”
I shake my head. “I never get mail.”
“I know!” she says. “I was surprised, too! Sorry, really gotta‘ go!”
I hurry to our room and find a big box on my table.
“What the…?” I whisper, leaving my door open as I approach my desk next to the window.
This must be a mistake. I don’t have anyone who’d send me mail, let alone a huge box such as this one. No one in my family has the money for gifts, and I don’t have any friends outside school. It’s not my birthday either, and I’m pretty sure that I didn’t do any online shopping lately. I have no extra money for that.
The box takes up pretty much the entire surface of my desk, but it’s not as heavy as I expected it to be. I lift it up and turn it around, searching for the name of the sender, but there’s none. How is that even possible? Isn’t that obligatory? However, it is indeed addressed to me.
I fetch a knife from our kitchen and return to the room to open the box. The first thing inside that catches my attention is a beautiful envelope, decorated with golden lines at the edges. There’s just one word written on the front of it: my name, Elodie.
My hands are shaking when I open the envelope. For some reason, I can only imagine bad things to happen next. Benjamin is still gone, but maybe he’s sent me something mean to give voice to his rotten feelings toward me? I don’t recognize his handwriting on the envelope, but he’s the only person I can think of right now.
Until I read the note inside the envelope. It doesn’t say much, only a few, sweet words.
“You deserve better, beautiful.”
That’s it. No name, no identification of the sender.
I blush and frown simultaneously. Who is this from? Who’d think that I deserve better? Better than what?
I put the note aside and rummage through the box. There are a bunch of smaller packages wrapped in white and golden wrapping paper, and at the very bottom I find two shoe boxes.
Clothes. These must be clothes.
I rip the first package open and find the most beautiful merino cardigan I’ve ever touched, and judging from the Gucci tag inside the neck, it’s probably the most expensive piece of clothing I’ve ever held in my hands, too. The entire box is filled with high-end brand name clothing, including three silk blouses that are somehow similar to the one I was wearing the other day while playing piano at the Abrams’ home, except the fabric feels a lot thicker and softer. There’s one pair of black pants and a pencil skirt, and both would go well with the blouses and the merino cardigan.
Then, there’s the dress. My heart almost stops beating when I unpack the light beige Valentino dress. It has a similar cut to the one I wore when I introduced myself to the Abrams and Waldorf families, but that’s where the similarities end. Its dignified appearance, finished with eyelash edges and the beautiful lace around the decollete, stands in no comparison to the dress I own. This must have cost a fortune!
One of the shoe boxes contains Louboutin heels in a light beige that matches the dress, while the other box holds black ballerina slippers that are more suitable for everyday life and could be worn with everything else that I found in the box.
Did they send me this stuff? Is this the family’s way of telling me that I should dress for the occasion when I show up at their house? Did I embarrass them, even though no one ever sees me there except for Wally and Mrs. Abrams?
Well, and him.
Did Kingston send me all this stuff? Why? What the hell is he thinking? I can’t be bought, and if I start running around in these clothes, the ugly rumors that Benjamin has been trying to spread around about me would only gain credibility.
I can’t accept this.
But I kind of want to.
I longingly hold up one of the blouses in front of me. It’s so exquisite! The texture, the cut, the color. Everything about it is perfect. I’ve never had pretty things like this.
I reckon that it can’t hurt to try it on, just to see what it looks like. I lock myself in my room and go through the box item by item, starting with one of the blouses and the pants. Luckily, Kim and I have a full-size mirror in our room, so that I can get a pretty good look at every outfit. Every single piece fits perfectly, even the most valuable thing, the dress, which I try on last.
The dress is perfect for performance, but I’m not sure about the matching heels. I’ve never played the piano wearing heels like that, and I imagine it could be challenging to control the pedal with them.
In any case, I’m not going to try this out tonight. It’s getting late and I really need to get going, so I can make good use of my practicing hours on the grand piano. Today is one of the days when no one but Wally will be around, and she must already be expecting me.
There’s only one question left to answer before I can leave. Do I choose an outfit out of this box or opt for the dark jeans and crimson top I was going to wear?
My eyes rest on the pretty clothes lying spread out on my bed. If no one but Wally sees me tonight, it doesn’t really matter what I wear. I could show up in ripped jeans and I doubt she would bat an eye. Unless she’s instructed to report back to Mrs. Abrams, if she was the one to send this box to me. But something tells me that she’s not the sender. Why would she make a secret about being the one who gave these incredible gifts to me? No, it must be Kingston, and I’m deadset on returning everything to him.
But until then, I might as well take them out once. Just for fun, just for myself.
Chapter XV
Kingston
She’s wearing the cream-colored bow tie blouse and the skirt, paired up with the black ballerina shoes and the merino cardigan to protect herself from the cold. Everything looks just as delicious and perfect on her as I imagined, and it is only topped by her beautifully surprised face.
She stares up at me through wide eyes, her lips forming a small O as she inhales audibly upon seeing me opening the door for her.
“Hello, Elodie,” I say. “Here to play, are you?”
She blushes and absentmindedly reaches up to her throat to tug at the collar of her blouse.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Where’s Wally?”
“Wally is already done for the day,” I say, causing Elodie to erupt in insecurity.
“Am I that late?” she asks. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t –”
“No, you’re not late,” I say, beckoning for her to come inside. “You look lovely.”
She hesitates and remains standing outside, holding on to her shoulder bag, the only accessory that doesn’t go with the rest of her outfit.
“Did you send me this?” she asks shyly.
I smile at her. “You look even better than I imagined.”
Elodie evades my eyes, but finally decides to come inside. I close the door behind her and am met with her questioning eyes when I turn around.
“Why?” she asks.
“You’re welcome,” I say, raising my eyebrow at her.
She clears her throat.
“Yes, thank you,” she says. “But I want to know why? And I will also let you know that I don’t intend to keep any of it.”
“Why are you wearing it then?” I ask.
She sighs. “I didn’t think anyone would see. I thought Wally would –”
“So?” I interrupt her. “You’re just having trouble admitting that you like it?”
“I…” she gasps as I take a step closer to her and lift my hand up to her face. Elodie’s green eyes widen, but she doesn’t shy away when I gently caress along her cheek and tug a strand of hair behind her naked ears. Almost perfect, but she needs jewelry. Small pearl earrings would go nicely with this. I make a mental note to take care of it.
I lean forward to steal another kiss from her. It’s a bold move, but not too bold for naughty little Elodie. She closes her eyes, as if she wants to submit all the responsibility to me. Very promising. I let her know how hungry I am for her, not wasting a second on reluctance and caution. She needs to know how much I need to taste her. I invade her mouth with voracious need, placing my hand at the back of her neck to kee
p her in place.
She welcomes me just as she did last time, but eventually starts gasping for air, lifting her hands up as if to declare defeat. I notice that she wants to touch me, but she doesn’t do it.
What a good girl.
I end our kiss, leaving her panting and staring at me with wanting eyes.
“Why?” she repeats her question, but this time it seems to be directed at more than just my generous present.
“I told you why,” I say. “Because you deserve better.”
Tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes. “What makes you say that? You hardly know me.”
“Just a feeling,” I say, smirking at her. “And my feelings are usually right.”
She shakes her head and reaches up to my hand at her back, about to move it away.
“You don’t know me,” she repeats.
“Then let me get to know you,” I reply.
Now she openly frowns at me.
“You don’t want to get to know me,” she says. “I know what you want. I’m not stupid.”
I’m sure she’s not, but she’s wrong about one thing. I do want to get to know her. Her innocent beauty was what drew me toward her in the beginning, but it has become so much more to me now. There is something about her that I can’t ignore. Something new, something mysterious and foreign to me. I need to find out what it is, I need to be able to touch it.
And I fucking need to see her bend over for me.
“You don’t know me either,” I interject.
She rolls her eyes – something I will not forget – and arches her left eyebrow.
“I’ve heard enough about you to know what this is,” she says.
“Oh, you’ve heard about me?” I inquire. “So, this judgment is based on gossip and people talking behind my back?”
I shake my head, acting as if I was disappointed. “I never thought you’d be so shallow, Elodie.”
She inhales with indignation.
“I’m not shallow!” she insists. “But I’m also not stupid enough to get involved in your sick little world.”
“My sick little world?”
“Yes,” she says. “Your sick little world of fake marriages, adultery, cheating and lies. I have enough drama going on in my life as is, I don’t need to add this kind of –”
