Mad Love 2

by Colet Abedi

  “I’ll get that,” he says jumping up in a flash. I wonder if it’s Orie. I sit up and see Erik let in a woman carrying a tray of tea and yummy-looking pastries.

  “Did you ask for this?” he asks me as she walks in the room and places the large tray on the coffee table.

  I shake my head as the woman turns to face me.

  “Monsieur Sinclair asked that I bring you some tea and sweets,” she says pleasantly. “He thought you might be hungry.”

  I feel warm inside and touched that he is so considerate.

  “Merci,” I tell her. She leaves and Erik closes the door.

  “He’s not just crazy for you, Sophie,” my friend tells me as he walks over and grabs a pastry. “The man has to be in love with you. The only thing is he might not know it yet.”

  I spend the next few hours before the dinner party obsessing about Erik’s words to me. Can Clayton be in love with me? Do I dare even hope? Old Sophie would doubt that any man that hot could feel that way for her, but the new Sophie, which is who I’m desperate to be, keeps trying to tell myself, why not? It could happen. I mean, I’m kind of a catch, right?

  I’m employed—

  My evil twin’s inner voice creeps up before I know it…

  For now. Who knows when you’ll find your next job?

  That’s beside the point! I’m smart—

  You dropped out of law school. How smart can you really be?

  But like Erik said, I got in! And I’m attractive—

  You’re no Amelia…

  My inner voice sucks!

  For every positive attribute I think about myself I instantly insert a negative point to counter it. Clearly, I have many more self-help tapes to go through before I’m my perfect self.

  I decide to change my train of thought and think about something much more pleasant. Like my afternoon with Clayton. But before I can really get into it my phone vibrates with a text message.

  I reach over and see the international number. I’m guessing it’s one person.

  And I’m right.

  CLAYTON: Will you unblock my main number now?

  I smile as I write back.

  ME: Yes. But I have to ask Erik to do it for me.

  CLAYTON: Bring your phone this evening and I will do it.

  Control freak.

  ME: Where are you?

  CLAYTON: In a guest bedroom. Not too far from you.

  I sigh and text.

  ME: Did you give me your room?

  CLAYTON: Yes.

  Butterflies dance around in my stomach.

  ME: Why?

  CLAYTON: Because I want you to be in the best room in the chateau.

  I take a moment before I type.

  ME: You must miss your room.

  He types quickly.

  CLAYTON: Not my room, the beautiful woman who’s sleeping in my bed, yes. Without a doubt.

  God.

  ME: Do you want it back?

  CLAYTON: Only if you come with it.

  He really is the master of the universe. I don’t know what to write back. If Erik and Orie were here they would do it for me. Luckily, my phone vibrates again, saving me from having to reply.

  CLAYTON: Of course with one stipulation.

  ME: What’s that?

  CLAYTON: Naked. In my bed every night.

  Fucking hot!

  The crazy in me wants to write, YES in all caps and with twenty-five exclamation points. But the cool in me knows that I have to pretend to be at least a tad demure.

  ME: I get cold very easily. Remember, I am from Los Angeles.

  I don’t even have to wait a second.

  CLAYTON: Don’t worry baby, I’ll make sure you’re hot every night.

  I’m one hundred percent positive he would make good on that promise.

  ME: I don’t doubt it.

  CLAYTON: Then that settles it.

  My heart is beating a mile minute.

  CLAYTON: See you in a few hours, sweetheart.

  That settles it? Does that mean what I think it means? It has to, right?

  Clayton is moving in with me.

  Shit.

  Like double. Triple. Quadruple shit.

  Way to play hard to get.

  Oh shut up!

  Later in the evening Clayton, Erik, Orie, and I are being driven by Sergei to Comte Georges de Banville’s home. Clayton filled us in that Georges prefers to go by Georgie and that he’s an old friend of Abby’s. They went to boarding school together and are very close. We’re also told, or warned, don’t know which, that Georges has a great love for the finer things in life and that everything he does is excessive. I have no idea what Clayton means by this but I’m looking forward to finding out.

  I’m not really surprised that Georgie is a comte or count given Clayton’s own lofty title of viscount. Clayton told me that as the eldest son he carries the title until his father passes away, at which time he becomes an earl. His other brothers have the title of honorable. After I found out in the Maldives about him being a lord he told me all about the English peerage system and how a lord was the informal title, used instead of calling him viscount. It’s still out of this world to think he has an actual title like the ones I read about in period romance novels. Since he doesn’t act like it’s a big deal I just go with it, even though to me it kind of is.

  I look at him and think again how handsome he looks in his midnight blue three-piece suit with black lapels. It fits him like a glove and does wonders for his broad shoulders. I’m in the backseat of the Range Rover between Clayton and Orie. Erik’s taken the front. Clayton casually touches my arm but hasn’t reached out to take my hand. I wonder if it’s because Orie is next to us.

  I’m wearing a knee-length black dress that I feel like Audrey Hepburn in. It has a bit of a poof in the skirt and is sleeveless. It’s one of my favorites and paired with platform Louboutin high-heeled black suede shoes it feels really sexy. Orie did my hair; he pulled it back in an elegant low ponytail, giving me a very classic look. I know Clayton loves what I’m wearing because his mouth practically dropped open when he saw me, and he said only one word, “Stunning.” He definitely has a way of making me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman in the world.

  But I do think we all look pretty great. As usual, Erik and Orie look incredible, both in black suits. According to Erik, his is in Saint Laurent and Orie is wearing Dior Homme. What else?

  “Here we are,” Clayton says as he motions toward the enormous medieval castle.

  “Holy shit,” Erik swears.

  “It dates back to the eleventh century,” Clayton tells us.

  “It’s really quite remarkable.” When he says this he looks over at me to give me a special look.

  “You’re remarkable,” he whispers.

  “Thank you,” I say with a blush. “So are you.”

  Orie coughs uncomfortably, probably to disguise his laughter and Clayton actually gives me a tender smile.

  “I don’t know if I told you, but Elizabeth, Jane, and Eduard will be here. They just arrived today and are staying in one of the homes on the estate.”

  Sour Jane? Ugh. Talk about buzz kill.

  “I can’t wait to see them,” I say. Just two of them.

  “It’s like a Maldivian reunion,” Orie says.

  “That sounds so shit hot,” Erik turns to smile at us.

  The car pulls up to the entrance, where a long staircase is lit by torchlight. I suddenly feel like I’m Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice arriving at a fancy ball. Except at this party the pulsating sound of the DJ spinning music and the crowd screaming can be heard inside our car.

  I look over at Clayton with a raised brow.

  “I warned you,” he tells us. “Georgie loves to throw parties.”

  “I like him already,” Orie says with a good deal of excitement.

  Clayton pulls my black wool cape over my shoulders and helps me out o
f the car. He takes my hand in his and Erik and Orie follow.

  He lifts my hand and brushes his lips against my knuckles.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” he says in a low voice.

  “We just arrived,” I whisper back.

  “And I’m already done sharing you,” Clayton says as I look up at him. “I want you to myself.”

  God, I can just get lost in those eyes of his—

  “Careful,” he chides as I literally trip over my own two feet and almost fly head first up the stairs. Clayton has to help me steady myself.

  Trés embarrassante! That’s French for very embarrassing. Erik might have a point with his whole trés obsession.

  But then I’m not embarrassed anymore because the double doors are opened and we enter what can only be described as a Versace circus. There are medusas and lions everywhere. Medusa statues, medusa paintings, lion emblems, lion statues, and all are in the shiniest gold I’ve ever seen. The couches, tables and chairs are done in either deep purple, green, or gold, and it’s so loud and totally over the top that I think Gianni Versace would be jumping around in glee.

  The party is in full swing and is packed with people who seem like they are already intoxicated and having the time of their life. I’m pretty sure that Count Georgie invited the whole country of France.

  The DJ’s music is thumping as people dance, drink, and pick food off the appetizer plates that are being passed around like candy. Everywhere I look I see a waiter holding a tray of appetizers, champagne, or shots. Yes, shots. This party is very different from the one at Clayton’s home. It’s like the polar opposite. Erik and Orie turn to me and smile. I know they love it. And I’m not going to lie, so do I.

  “Clayton Sinclair, you just made my party.”

  We all turn around.

  “Georgie,” Clayton says dryly.

  Count Georgie is drop dead gorgeous. Like seriously perfect. He has thick, dark, brown hair and amber-colored eyes. He’s got a total Calvin Klein underwear model vibe going for him. If he didn’t have a thick French accent, I would think he was from Greece or Italy. He’s dressed in a killer white tuxedo and I notice he’s got a gold ring of a lion’s head on his pinky. I wonder if he’s a Leo.

  “In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hold anyone’s hand,” Georgie observes. “Right after we do shots, I want an introduction to this beauty.”

  “Venir ici,” he commands the waiter holding a tray of shots and quickly gives us each one.

  “A votre santé!” He chugs his. I feel Clayton’s body stiffen as I quickly down mine, too, but then he, Erik, and Orie do the same. I’m know he doesn’t like the fact that I did a shot and he’s trying to control himself from saying something to me in front of his friend, which I’m proud of him for. The shot was awesome and it burns through my body making me feel warm already.

  “Alors,” Georgie says as he looks at me. “Now you may introduce us.”

  “Sophie Walker, please meet Comte Georges de Banville,” Clayton says with a smile. “Or Georgie, as he prefers to be called.”

  Georgie takes my hand and kisses it while bowing low.

  “Enchanté. It is an honor to meet a woman who can tame the wolf.”

  Tame the wolf? Now that’s funny.

  I decide I like Georgie.

  “He can’t be tamed,” I tell him. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you. The party looks great.”

  He gives me a big smile and starts to blatantly analyze my face. It’ a bit uncomfortable, I’m not going to lie. I’m pretty sure he’s picking it apart and looking for flaws.

  “You’re scaring her, Georgie,” Clayton says as he pulls me into his embrace.

  “Il est impossible,” Georgie waves his hand. “This one has fire in her eyes.”

  His gaze then settles on Erik and Orie. I watch him give them an appreciative once-over. Clayton quickly introduces them.

  “Thanks for having us,” Orie says. “Your place is fabulous.”

  “Merci, it is what I call home,” Georgie says graciously, then motions for us to follow him. “Now it is time to celebrate the future marriage of my belle Abby to that awful, common Cossack.”

  I’m happy I don’t have food or liquid in my mouth because I would be choking on it right about now. Without a doubt Georgie just insulted Dimitri.

  “Georgie,” Clayton chides, “il n'est pas approprié.”

  I think he just told him that his words are not appropriate.

  “Vous savez que j’ai raison,” Georgie says as he turns to look at Clayton. “We are standing by and allowing her soul to be taken by a dragon into the pits of Russian hell.”

  Clayton is unusually silent.

  I wonder what kind of man Dimitri is. The only thing I know is that he’s absurdly wealthy, makes all the decisions, and wants Abby to dress like Marie Antoinette for her portrait. That is so weird! And that neither Clayton nor Georgie like him.

  Georgie has led us to a large room that looks like it was cleared out for the DJ and dancing. The dance floor is packed with people, and others are sitting on the purple and gold couches set up around the floor, with small tables in front, all set with what seems to be full bottle service. It’s insane. It looks exactly like a club in Hollywood.

  “I like Georgie’s style,” Orie leans in to whisper in my ear. I can only nod at him in agreement because I’m still trying to digest everything I’m seeing.

  Georgie takes us right to the biggest of the couches, which Abby and Dimitri are already occupying. Abby is dressed in a short, skimpy white dress that leaves little to the imagination. I’m shocked that Erik chose this for her. Completely shocked. Her hair is down and wavy and she’s wearing full make-up. She looks really beautiful, but very different from the way she usually dresses and, to be honest, kind of uncomfortable. I finally get a look at the mysterious Dimitri. He’s not tall and he’s not short, and pleasant looking enough, but he seems super serious and very aloof. Abby seems relieved to see us. She stands up with a big smile.

  “Sophie, you look beautiful,” she tells me as she embraces me warmly.

  “I think you’re the belle of the ball, Abby,” I tell her honestly. “Wow. You look so sexy!”

  “Abby darling, at least wait until after the wedding to start looking so Russian,” Georgie says loudly.

  She turns bright red and I quickly realize that Georgie and Erik have a lot in common.

  “Dimitri likes this kind of look,” she answers a bit defensively.

  I look over at Erik, who dressed the poor girl, and he is for once stunned or shamed into silence. I don’t know which. And I’m pretty sure that he totally agrees with Georgie’s comment, which makes this dress all the more bizarre.

  “What about Abby? What does she like?” Clayton asks sharply. I look over at him and notice how his eyes have gone cold as they settle on Dimitri. It’s impressive. The look is even effective when it’s not directed at me.

  “I like it,” her voice sounds small and almost unsure.

  “If you were a figure skater I could see why,” Georgie says glibly.

  I wonder what is going on with her. Shouldn’t she be glowing? She’s the bride-to-be and she’s marrying the man of her dreams, or at least I think she is.

  Dimitri, on the other hand, is completely uninterested in our conversation. In fact, he hasn’t bothered to introduce himself and he’s even texting on his iPhone. I’m not going to lie, it’s really rude.

  “You’re beautiful,” Erik finally finds his voice. There has got to be a part of him that’s insulted by Georgie’s comment about her outfit. But he doesn’t let on. And that’s the thing with Erik as opposed to me—in public he has his game face on point.

  “I love everything about you right now,” Orie agrees as he smiles at Abby.

  Abby nods in thanks then embraces Clayton and pulls him aside to say something to him in private.

  Erik takes the
moment to whisper in my ear, “I want to die! I did not bring that for her. She pulled it out of the closet on her own!”

  “Why was it in the closet in the first place?” I ask curiously.

  “I brought it for you,” he admits. “There are a few more dresses like that in the wardrobe that I guess I’m going to have to hide. I was hoping to turn you into a slut in Europe. Get you laid. Help you get more experience so you can compare and choose what you want in life with a few more notches on your belt. Orie and I wanted you to be sexually liberated.”

  I have heard little more than his first sentence. “Me?” I look at him in horror.

  “Yes. I thought if you had a few one night stands you’d get over stalker-lover boy.” Erik eyes the dress. “That’s the perfect kind of outfit to do it in. It screams, ‘Come and fuck me…’ then I’ve gotta admit, ‘Skate with me.’”

  I sincerely hope that Clayton can’t hear what Erik is saying, but I can’t be sure because he is standing dangerously close.

  “To be honest,” Erik continues, unaffected by the look on my face, which is still registering shock. “I don’t want her walking around telling people that I picked that for her. It’s kind of embarrassing.”

  Erik has the good grace to look a bit horrified himself.

  “What’s embarrassing is that you think that if I put that on I would magically want to have sex with a random stranger,” I retort sharply.

  “Nothing wrong with that,” Orie interjects, clearly having heard every word of our conversation. “Look where sleeping with a stranger in the Maldives got you.”

  God almighty, I don’t know why I even try to have a civilized discussion with these people.

  Thankfully, Georgie starts to pass out glasses of champagne and I subtly step back to Clayton’s side.

  He doesn’t acknowledge me, and when I look up at his face and take in the aloof look he has going on my stomach sinks in dread. I really hope he didn’t hear Erik talking about me having sex with random strangers.

  I take note of how Georgie sets Dimitri’s champagne on the table in front of him, without saying a word. Dimitri doesn’t seem to care one bit. He’s completely immersed with his cell phone. I wonder what has him so riveted.

  “He’s playing Angry Birds,” Erik whispers in my ear. He’s clocked the whole scenario, too.