by Lara Adrian
“You gonna call her?”
“Who?”
Jake smirks. “Whoever she is that has you scowling and gripping that beer glass so hard you’re going to crush it.”
I let go of the glass and shake my head, a ready denial about to roll off my tongue. But before I can say anything, I see my father heading our way.
He’s still a powerful presence in his sixties, even with the slight hitch in his step and the diminished muscle tone of his once-intimidating physique. His eyes are trained on me like laser beams, disapproval in both his blue gaze and the flat line of his mouth inside the graying frame of his new beard.
I groan under my breath. “Fuck.” I’m not aware I’ve muttered the word out loud until Jake swivels around to see who’s approaching from behind him.
He gets up as the old man nears us, as if the response to stand at attention comes to him as naturally as breathing. I remain seated, refusing to give my father the satisfaction of seeing me adjust to find my balance on my prosthesis.
Jake fills the instant, heavy silence. “Hey, Pop. Great party, huh? What a turnout.”
Dad’s still glowering at me as he grunts a non-response. When he speaks, it’s directed at my brother as if I’m not even there. “I need to go home, son. My car’s parked down the block. Run and get it for me, will you?”
Christ, he sounds worse than tired. Exhausted. Depleted.
“Yeah, no problem,” Jake says, taking Dad’s keys. “Let me square my tab with Tommy first, then I’ll bring your car around back.”
“I’ve got the drinks,” I murmur, already reaching into my jacket pocket for my wallet. I feel my father’s eyes on me as I set the key fob to my Lexus on the bar, then pull a couple of twenties from the fold of larger bills in my wallet.
Jake claps me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Gabe. Be right back.”
He takes off, leaving me alone with the man I looked up to more than anyone else when I was a boy. The man who probably never loved me, and now makes no secret of the fact that he despises me.
I can’t think of a single word to say to him.
He must feel likewise about me. He shuffles past me in silence, then walks out the back door of the pub to wait for his son outside.
I sit there for moment, simmering in useless fury. Tommy comes over to collect the cash I laid on the bar.
“Another beer, Gabe?”
“No, thanks. I’m leaving soon.” He nods and starts to walk away to get my change. “On second thought, Tommy. I’ll take a shot of Jameson. Make it a double.”
3
~ Evelyn ~
“These designs are amazing.” Avery Ross glances up from the array of sketches and swatches of silk and lace spread out before us on the cocktail table of the executive suite’s sumptuous conversation area. “Evelyn, I don’t know how I’m going to narrow down my choices to just a few.”
“I’m so pleased you like them.”
We are seated alone in the office on a pale gray leather Chesterfield sofa. Behind us on the soaring wall of polished silver granite hangs a large Jackson Pollock original painted in monochromatic black enamel on a cream canvas. I find it fascinating how the expansive office space overlooking a prime slice of Manhattan can look slightly dark and intimidating--much like the billionaire who commands it--yet Dominic Baine’s business domain somehow feels far from cold or austere.
As for his beautiful fiancée, Avery is like a splash of golden sunshine in the midst of so much gray. Her warm smile beams as she looks at me and slowly shakes her head, sending her long blonde hair sifting around her shoulders.
“No wonder L’Opale is nipping at the heels of the top bespoke lingerie shops. Everything you’ve shown me today is incredible.”
I can’t deny the surge of pride I feel at her praise. The boutique on Madison Avenue is small, but in the five years since we opened, our clientele list has grown from a handful of East Coast socialites and celebrities into an exclusive, loyal following across the country and all around the world. My staff and I have worked hard to establish our reputation for quality, and I’ve made it my mission to personally ensure the innovation and originality of the pieces we make for our clients.
While some of our inventory is limited-run, small-volume production based off designs Katrina and I create together, the boutique primarily caters to private clients who commission us for individual pieces or custom ensembles like the one I’m presenting to Avery today.
In all fairness, it should have been Kat in my place for a client as high-profile as Avery Ross. She’s got more experience, having come to work at L’Opale around the time we first opened, after being perhaps not-so-coincidentally dropped from another luxe custom lingerie shop’s design staff the week after she turned forty.
But I’ve developed a rapport with Avery in the past year that she’s been a L’Opale customer. She requested me specifically for this project, and I couldn’t be more excited--nor more determined--to create something spectacular for her that she, and her husband-to-be, will enjoy.
She picks up one of my sketches for a frothy, pearl-accented, lace demi-bra and panties. “This one is particularly lovely.” A faint, secret smile curves her lips as she studies the design concept. “And Nick does love to see me in pearls.”
“That set will look gorgeous on you,” I tell her, delighted by her obvious enthusiasm for the ideas I’ve shown her. “To be honest, I think you could walk around in cotton briefs and a sports bra and Nick would be just as dazzled as he would be seeing you in any of these designs. That man adores you. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.”
“Mind? Are you kidding?” She turns a shy look at me, one of the first times I’ve ever seen her appear uncertain. She twists the enormous diamond engagement ring on her finger. “Thank you for saying that. These past three months have been a whirlwind since Nick proposed. Now, in addition to an exhibit I’m preparing for next week, we’re also renovating the Park Place penthouse and planning our engagement party. Sometimes all the decisions become so overwhelming, I’m not sure I know anything for sure.”
I nod, because I understand something about pressure and how heavy it can feel on someone’s shoulders. I know the kind of sabotaging self-defeat that kind of pressure can bring. “Well, take this from an outside observer. One thing you don’t ever have to doubt is the fact that your man is head over heels in love with you.”
If I sound a little wistful in front of her, I can’t help it. Avery Ross and Dominic Baine have the kind of unabashed devotion to each other that I’ve long been convinced couldn’t actually exist in real life. Certainly, I’ve never known their kind of bond. After my string of disastrous--even dangerous--choices in men, I have no intention of putting my heart on the line ever again.
To cover my momentary lapse into memories I’d rather forget, I reach for another of the designs Avery had enthused over. “This silk set can also be embellished with pearls, if you’d like me to make a few alterations and show it to you again.”
“No, it’s perfect just as you have it, Evelyn. I love it, in fact.” She gestures vaguely at the sketches on the table. “I’ll take them.”
“This one and the pearl demi-bra ensemble?”
“All of them,” Avery says. “I can’t choose between any of your designs, so I’d like to buy them all.”
It takes calling on my stage face to keep from gaping. I’ve presented more than a dozen original concepts, each custom creation carrying a price tag well into the thousands. I thought she’d select one or two. Hoped she might take as many as three, possibly four, if I wanted to be optimistic. But to accept them all? It’s the largest order we’ve had since we opened our doors.
“Um . . . thank you.” I swallow past the elated cry that’s about to burst out of me. “Avery, really. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity to design for you. I promise, I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t.” She places her hand briefly over the top of mine. “You were kind to
me the first day we met at the boutique, and I’ve never forgotten that, Evelyn. You also happen to have an amazing vision for sexy, sophisticated pieces.”
“There’s nothing else I want to do,” I admit to her. “Designing is my escape. It saved my life, if you want to know the truth.”
She nods, even though I’m certain she can’t know how close to the bone that statement really cuts. Although we’re friendly and Avery knows I was a model in a former life, we haven’t discussed the humiliating details of my failure in that career. Or my long climb back out of the abyss.
Still, there is a note of understanding in her gentle gaze. “Painting is all I’ve ever wanted to do. There was a time when it was the only thing standing between me and everything awful in my life. I clung to my dreams because they were all I had left. And I never gave up--not on life or my art. Neither should you.”
“Thank you.” My throat is tight at her tender advice. I’ve never handled emotions very well, especially in front of someone else. And I’m too excited to let myself sink into self-pity, even for a moment. I collect myself and offer my newest client a professional smile as I extend my hand to her. “I’m thrilled to be working with you, Avery. I’ll take everything back to the boutique and start working on them right away. Since we do the sewing in-house, we should be able to schedule a preliminary fitting for the first few pieces in a couple of weeks.”
“I can’t wait,” she says, shaking my hand. “Thanks again for being willing to change our meeting place at the last minute today. Nick’s office was a much better option, since our apartment is currently a construction zone.”
“My pleasure,” I say, gathering up my materials and slipping everything back into my portfolio. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
She waves her hand dismissively. “It wasn’t a problem at all. Katrina had already phoned to let me know you were on the way, and besides, I was still buried in phone calls and emails when Nick’s assistant, Lily, came in to tell me you were downstairs.”
“Ah.” Lily being the sweet-voiced darlin’ Gabriel Noble had spoken to so casually, so charmingly, after treating me like a security threat. For reasons I’d rather not dwell on, I’d been hoping to find a middle-aged librarian seated outside the executive suite. Instead I was greeted by a stunning young woman with a mane of jet-black hair and a megawatt smile when I stepped off the elevator, harried and indignant after my encounter with the aggravating man.
I suppose I have to give Gabe credit. Instead of starting my meeting with Avery amid a case of stomach-churning nerves and anxiety over the fact that I was late, I marched in energized by my fury for him. Not that I’ll ever tell him he did me a favor.
And not that I’ll ever see him again--if I should be so lucky.
“Well, I suppose I should let you get back to your day.” I sling my portfolio strap over my shoulder as Avery rises from the sofa with me. “Like I said, I’m very excited to start working on the designs. I’ll email you copies of the sketches once I get back to the boutique, so if you have any questions or ideas you can let me know.”
“That sounds great.”
She walks me to the door, and as we exit together, we’re met by my brother and Dominic Baine, who are just arriving off the elevator. Dressed in dark suits and crisp white shirts, both men are tall, well-built, and handsome. I’m sure a more formidable pair have never ruled a boardroom. Now, at the end of a long day, Andrew’s sharp maroon tie is still impeccably knotted around his creamy brown neck, while Nick’s length of graphite silk is unfastened, and hanging loose along the sides of his unbuttoned collar.
I hear Avery’s soft inhalation beside me as her fiancé strides toward us, his cerulean blue gaze locked on her with unbridled desire.
I get it, girl. Even though I’ve known him for years through my brother, sometimes I still have to remind myself to breathe whenever I see Dominic Baine. The man is a walking force of dark, vibrating energy, and it’s hard not to get swept up in the powerful magnetic pull that seems to surround the attractive billionaire.
Andrew’s no slouch in the good looks department, either. His high cheekbones and pale green eyes have always turned female heads wherever he goes, but his trim black goatee lends an intriguing, sinister edge to him that I imagine only broadens his appeal.
“Someone’s parked in my spot,” he says, grinning as he strolls up and greets me with a light kiss on the cheek.
Nick greets Avery in similar fashion, but his smile is smoldering and his sensual mouth lingers near her ear. Whatever he whispers to her sends a heated blush rising into her cheeks.
Cupping his broad palm around the back of Avery’s neck in a possessive, yet tender touch, he turns his gaze on me. “Evelyn, this is a nice surprise seeing you here.”
“Hello, Nick.”
Avery places her hand against his chest. “I thought it would be better to meet here while you and Beck were at the contract meeting across town.”
“Of course, it’s fine. Did you have a good meeting?” he asks me.
I nod. “I think it went well.”
“Evelyn’s being modest. She blew me away with her designs.”
Nick’s answering smile is wicked. “Well, I look forward to seeing the results.”
I glance at my brother as the happy couple indulge in a brief, yet passionate kiss. “Sorry about taking your prime parking space. I was running late and I remembered you told me you’d be out most of today in meetings.”
“No problem,” he says, then quirks a brow. “You, running late? I’m shocked.”
“Yeah, well . . . I got delayed at the boutique and it couldn’t be helped.” I haven’t mentioned my missing purse to Avery, and I’m sure as hell not going to tell my overprotective brother. He already worries too much where I’m concerned, and I’d rather avoid another of his well-meaning lectures about my safety and personal well-being.
Andrew studies me for a moment. “I’m glad to hear everything worked out. I know how much you’ve been looking forward to presenting your work to Avery.”
I nod. “I almost didn’t get the chance. I thought your security detail was going have me arrested for illegal parking.”
Nick’s brows rankle as he looks at me. “Who are you talking about? You mean Luis down at the lobby desk this afternoon?”
“No. Gabriel Noble.” It isn’t the first time I’ve thought about him since I arrived on the executive floor, but saying his name out loud sends an uninvited ripple of awareness through my body. I’m still annoyed with him, but my anger has mellowed from the sharp outrage I felt in the garage to a mild indignation. And none of that has had any impact on the unwanted attraction that still simmers along my nerve endings when I picture his handsome, if arrogant, face.
Andrew chuckles. “Gabe’s a stickler for rules and procedure. That’s part of what landed him the job here.”
“It couldn’t possibly be due to his charming personality,” I mutter. “Does he treat everyone like a criminal, or was it just my lucky day?”
“What?” Avery chimes in, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like Gabe.”
Nick shakes his head in agreement. “No, it doesn’t. He’s a total professional, the best security person I’ve ever had on staff. But I’ll grant you, Gabe does insist on running a tight ship.”
“Probably due to his time in the military,” my brother says, then glances at me to explain. “Before coming to work for us, he served in combat overseas in Afghanistan.”
“A former soldier? I can’t say I’m surprised,” I reply. “Seems like he’d make an excellent drill sergeant.”
Andrew gives me an amused look. “This coming from the girl who used to line up her Barbie dolls for outfit inspection every morning before she left for school? You’ve been a Type A natural-born boss from the time you could talk, Evie.”
I have to admit he’s right. Aside from a short period of time when we both know how deeply I lost sight of myself, I’ve always preferred to be the one in charge. I still d
o.
“As for Gabe’s service record, it’s stellar,” Nick interjects. “Enlisted when he was twenty and deployed straight to a combat zone. From there, he rose up the ranks in record time to sergeant first class leading an infantry platoon fighting in the center of some of the worst action. He came home with a chest full of medals, including the Silver Star and a Purple Heart.”
“Just to name a few,” Andrew says, a sober tone creeping into his deep voice.
I tell myself I’m not impressed with Gabriel Noble’s apparently heroic time in the service, even though I am. I’m curious too. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that he seemed to enjoy adding to my stress today.
“Maybe you ought to send him to public relations training,” I suggest, giving my brother a flat stare.
Nick smirks. Andrew starts to say something I’m sure will be a further argument for the defense, but he’s interrupted by Lily’s soft clearing of her throat behind him.
“Excuse me, everyone,” she says, then glances not at Nick or Andrew, but at me. “Ms. Beckham, I have a call for you from L’Opale on hold at my desk.”
My brother looks at me, and I can feel his shrewd gaze analyzing me in the moment before he speaks. “Why would they be calling you here instead of on your cell?”
Although I know full well, I give him a vague shrug as I step away from the group. I follow Lily back to her workstation and she hands me the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Evelyn. It’s Megan. I’m so glad I caught you.”
The perky college student is one of several front-of-the-house sales consultants who work at the boutique. “Hi, Meg. What’s up?” I take the cordless receiver and walk toward the elevator bank for a bit of privacy. “Is anything wrong at the shop?”
“No. No, everything’s good here. Um, I just wanted to let you know I found your purse.”
Thank God. I release a pent-up breath, relief washing over me. “Where was it?”
