by Colet Abedi
I quickly take the bottle of champagne and plate of cake out of Abby’s hands as she sits up straight to stare at him in outrage.
“Dimitri’s family portraits have always been done in costume!”
“You look like a clown.”
“You’re an ass.”
Michael shakes his head in anger. I know he’s teetering on the edge. I’ve seen this look before on Clayton’s face.
“Watch your mouth, Abigail.”
“I hate when you call me Abigail. You make me feel like a child.”
“That’s the point, Abigail.” His gaze could freeze water.
“You’re not my father, Michael Sinclair,” she responds coolly. “So don’t you dare take that tone of voice with me.”
Michael takes a step toward Abby. He’s a walking grenade.
I decide to try to divert his attention. “Michael?” I say. It takes him a moment before he looks at me.
“Sophie, I’m sorry you have to witness this,” he says with an apologetic smile.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I tell him smoothly. “Family arguments are completely normal where I come from.”
“But still,” he says, then nods in Abby’s direction. “Good luck with the princess.”
Then he leaves us alone.
And I slowly start to understand what’s going on.
Abby promptly bursts into tears and cries, “I hate him!”
And then I know Abigail is in love with Michael Sinclair.
9
“Try this Pinot. It’s from Clayton’s vineyard,” Michael tells me before pouring a generous glass.
We’re sitting at a quaint restaurant in Avignon. Michael was nice enough to invite Erik and Orie and I’m happy that everyone seems to get along great.
“Thank you,” I say as I try the wine. It is incredible but then I’m not surprised considering who it belongs to.
Clayton waits expectantly.
“It’s wonderful,” I tell him with a smile. “I didn’t know you were in the wine business as well.”
He shrugs. “It’s a hobby.”
A very expensive one.
“You’re good at it.”
He raises a brow and I can’t help but laugh at his arrogance. He leans over and gives me a soft kiss on the lips then pulls back and lets his gaze sweep over my face. I know I have a goofy smile but I don’t really care. I’m happy.
“I’ll be right back,” he says and excuses himself from the table. I watch him walk away. I love the way his broad shoulders fill out the black long-sleeved shirt he has on. He looks good in jeans too. Really good.
Erik brings me out of my reverie. “You’re drooling.”
I’m about to tell him that I really could care less but then remember that Michael is sitting at the table with us and just watched me stare at his brother like a complete crazy stalker. I look over at him in embarrassment and am caught off guard by the look on his face.
Though he’s smiling at me, he seems super shocked. And he can’t even hide it.
“This place is great,” I say lamely trying to cover.
“You’ve changed my brother,” he says to my surprise
“How?” Erik is the one to ask what I’m dying to know.
Michael pushes back his long hair.
“Believe it or not, I’ve never see Clayton behave this way with a woman before.”
“How do you mean?” The question is out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
“He’s usually indifferent,” Michael explains. “Not usually. Always.”
“Well, our girl is pretty special,” Orie says loyally.
I blush.
“I’m just ordinary,” I say modestly.
“There’s nothing ordinary about you,” Erik interjects as he waves me off. “Whether that makes you special or weird is a matter of perspective.”
Everyone laughs at Erik’s comment, including me.
“I love you, Erik,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says as he reaches over to squeeze my hand.
“It seems like there’s quite a lot of love for you, Sophie.” Michael says.
All three of the men stare at me. I’m sure my face is on fire.
“Can we focus on something else?” I ask the guys.
Erik obliges and asks Michael another question that only he would be brave enough to ask.
“So what do you think of Dimitri?”
I watch Michael’s demeanor go from completely relaxed to cool in a blink of the eye.
“Abigail’s marrying him.”
I notice that he uses almost the exact same phrase as Clayton did when I asked him about Dimitri.
“You’re not answering the question,” Erik says as he picks up his wine glass. I’m surprised he’s being so bold considering he just met Michael. But then, he’s never one to censor what comes out of his mouth.
Michael’s look is guarded.
“It’s not my place to discuss Dimitri. Abigial picked him. She’s the one who has to live with her decision.”
Well, that’s not very comforting. I think about how Michael behaved around Abigail this morning and wonder what happened between them.
“She does seem a little stressed out,” I say cautiously.
“She’s getting married. Brides are usually all nerves,” Michael answers.
It’s more than just nerves, but I’m not about to argue with a Sinclair. He saw the same thing I did this morning.
“Well, it’s definitely going to be a beautiful wedding,” I tell him. “Clayton’s home is perfect.”
“It is,” Michael says quietly.
“Then I guess this calls for a toast to Abby,” Erik says as he lifts his glass up.
The toast lacks the enthusiasm one would expect for a bride-to-be and it makes me think that everyone at the table must be having the same thought: What the hell is Abby thinking?
I take a sip of my wine then excuse myself to find the ladies’ room. The restaurant has beautiful views of a vineyard and is really quite romantic. I make my way past a few tables and find a sign that seems to lead me down a hall.
I only spot them because I made what was obviously a wrong turn.
My heart stops in my chest.
It’s Clayton and Amelia.
Gorgeous, stunning, sexy as hell Amelia. She’s dressed in a long, tan dress with a giant red scarf, which only accentuates her long graceful neck and incredible face. In an instant I feel lacking and underdressed, even though I had tried really hard with the black fitted leggings and high boots to go with the black cashmere sweater and leather jacket Erik had picked out for me. I thought I looked sexy, but now facing this exotic beauty I feel like a wallflower.
And unfortunately that’s not all.
Amelia’s leaning toward him with a manicured hand on his broad chest, speaking in a low, intimate way. And he seems thoroughly engrossed in whatever it is she’s saying. I take a step back and hide behind a large plant, not wanting either of them to see me staring.
“They make such a stunning couple.”
Shit.
I turn to stare at bitchy Jane, who gives me an innocent smile.
“They’re not a couple,” I respond rather harshly, even though I completely agree with her assessment.
“It’s only a matter of time,” she says as her gaze sweeps over me dismissively, obviously finding me inferior. “They always seem to end up in each other’s arms. It’s like they’re meant to be.”
She’s right. Clearly. At least as far as I can tell. First in Singapore, now here in Provence. But I’ll be damned if I’ll give her the satisfaction of showing that I care.
“I’m not worried.”
She raises a condescending brow.
“No? Then why were you spying on them?”
“I was looking for the restroom.” It’s the truth. Well, maybe I did get caught spying but no way this bitch is going to
call me out.
“Right,” she sneers with a haughty little laugh. “You don’t speak French?”
I wish I knew some particular French words because I would use them right now on her. But unfortunately, I don’t. So I use another tactic.
“Did you know your face twitches when your lip curls into that sneer?” I tell her casually. “It worries me. You should see a doctor.”
I notice with some satisfaction how Jane’s face expression goes from normal angry to complete and utter rage.
“You’re an American slut,” Jane says coldly. “A woman he picked up in the Maldives. A passing fancy. Don’t you ever forget that.”
Bitch!
Something comes over me.
The world moves in slow motion and then I grab the crazy devil that is Jane by her designer shirt and shove her up against the wall. She looks about as shocked as I feel.
“Watch yourself,” I say, my voice strong and aggressive. “Stay away from me or you won’t appreciate the consequences.”
I let go of her like she’s a diseased leper.
“Trust me when I say you don’t want to cross me again.”
I leave her standing there with her mouth open and make my way back to the table, my desire to use the restroom completely gone. Erik immediately notices my state.
“I need you for a second,” I tell him and smile apologetically at Michael. “Wardrobe issues.”
“Of course.”
It doesn’t take a brain surgeon to know something is up. Orie immediately engages Michael in small talk as Erik takes my arm.
“Let’s go around the other way,” I say to him and lead him toward the door. I want to avoid seeing Jane or worse, Clayton and Amelia.
“What’s going on?” Erik’s asks in a justifiably worried voice.
“I’ll tell you when we’re outside.”
We step through the front doors.
The cold air is a welcome relief. I immediately spew it out.
“I just went Rambo on Jane and shoved her up against a wall and told her to stay away from me.”
It takes a moment to register with Erik.
“Holy shit. That is fucking awesome!”
Erik raises his hand to give me a high five. I slap it
“What happened?” he asks.
“I was looking for the restroom and I don’t know, just came across Clayton and Amelia talking by the bar,” I explain. “So I did what any normal person would do and hid behind a plant and started spying. And Jane caught me.”
I hope I sound calm and not crazy. Because I’m really trying not to jump to conclusions or make false accusations, but seeing them looking so cozy together has really thrown me for a loop.
“They were talking, I guess,” I tell him. “But it looked intense. And that’s not me reading into the situation, it’s what I saw.”
Erik crosses his arms. I know he’s thinking about what he should say to me.
“How did it make you feel?”
“Honestly?”
“Always.”
“Like I’m a fool,” I confess.
I wait for him to hit me with an angry tirade about how I have to be more self-confident and get a grip but it doesn’t come. The opposite happens.
“Well, that’s not good, Sophie.”
“It’s not?” I’m beyond shocked.
“Even if nothing is going on with Amelia, Clayton shouldn’t be letting the bitch put her paws on him. That’s just not cool.”
I feel a surge of relief.
“Right?” I feel validated.
“Yes.”
“And my behavior with Jane?” I ask.
“Totally justified. That girl is a cunt,” Erik is blunt.
“I totally agree,” I say to him so thankful that he’s on my side.
“So should we go?” I ask, and my voice wavers.
“Go where?” Erik asks.
“Home.”
He laughs. “Hell, no. You don’t run from problems, you face them. Do you want that bitch to think you ran away from her?”
“No!”
“Then we’re going back inside. And come what may,” he says as he reaches for my hand.
Come what may.
I nod and follow him inside. Clayton is sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair with his long arm sloped over my empty one. He gives me a warm smile and then stands to pull out my chair for me.
“I was about to come and find you,” he whispers in my ear, then kisses me on the lips.
I force a smile.
“Is everything okay?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask, knowing full well there’s a bit of a high pitch to my voice.
I try not to fidget under the force of his gaze but he chooses not to answer. Instead, his body language responds to mine. I sit down on the chair and manage to scoot it an inch or two closer to Erik. If Clayton notices he doesn’t let on. Instead he focuses on his brother and completely immerses himself in a conversation about business. Now he’s actually leaning a bit away from me as well, responding in kind to my energy.
“Wasn’t it freezing outside without your jackets?” Orie asks as he looks from me to Erik.
“I think that mistral wind that Sergei was talking about is starting to kick in,” Erik says as he rubs his hands together then places one on my cold fingers. “Let me warm you up.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to fight the sick feeling that is growing exponentially in the pit of my stomach.
“Can we join you guys?” Amelia’s voice purrs out of nowhere as she comes up to our table with annoying Jane. She puts her hand on the back of Michael’s chair and focuses her gaze on Clayton. I notice with some panic that it’s quite intimate.. Kind of like the looks he’s always giving me.
Something snaps inside me and before anyone else can answer, I do.
“Of course you can,” I say sweetly. “There’s plenty of room.”
I’m mildly amused when all eyes at the table turn to stare at me in complete surprise. I avoid Clayton’s fiery gaze and force an artificial smile.
“The more the merrier,” I add.
I wonder whether I’m just a glutton for punishment and am trying to just torture myself by staring at the flawless Amelia for an entire meal, or whether it’s the former law student in me who wants to be able to analyze their body language and figure out what’s going on. I watch Michael motion to one of the waiters to bring over two more chairs. As everyone is scooting around trying to make room, Clayton pulls my chair up to his rather forcefully. Then he leans down to whisper in my ear.
“What the hell is this about?”
“Nothing,” I return, hoping I sound calm. And totally unaffected.
“Nothing?” The way he enunciates the word puts me on high alert. He is definitely pissed.
“They’re your friends, right?” I ask innocently.
“Stop playing games,” he says coldly.
“This isn’t a game,” I tell him, suddenly beyond furious. Because it’s not. It’s real life. My life.
I dare him to come back at me. I actually hope he does, but unfortunately he doesn’t give me the satisfaction.
Quietly, so that no one can hear, he says, “I’m not doing this with you,” and stands up rather abruptly.
“I have to go,” he tells the group to my utter annoyance. “I have work to take care of. But you guys enjoy yourselves.”
His looks down at me with a sharp, gaze. “Are you coming with me or would you rather stay?”
It’s a challenge. I know it. He knows it. And I bravely rise to the occasion.
“I’ll stay, thank you,” I say with a sugar sweet smile. “Since you’ll be working I might as well enjoy dinner with everyone.”
His eyes stay on mine for a beat before he nods curtly.
“Enjoy.”
And then he leaves. No kiss goodbye. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I wonder if I just played e
verything so wrong.
“Sophie,” Amelia says sweetly, “it’s so nice to see you again.”
I’ll bet it is.
“Likewise,” I tell her with a forced smile.
Jane gives me the stink eye as Amelia continues to check me out.
“When did you arrive?” I ask, trying to fill in the uncomfortable silence.
“Yesterday morning,” she says. “I had a shoot for Vogue in Prague then rushed right over here to be Jane’s date.”
Great. The bitch models for Vogue.
“What do you do, Jane?” Erik asks curiously.
I’m glad he does because I’m dying to know.
“Jane is what we like to call a Sloane Ranger,” Michael answers for her.
“Michael—” Jane laughs coyly, not the least bit offended by Michael’s description of her.
“What’s that?” Orie asks.
“A certain breed of upper-class woman in London,” Michael explains with a hint of disdain. “They do a lot of shopping.”
“And charity work,” Jane smiles.
“That’s right. How could I forget?” Michael says mockingly.
“There are some men we both know who fit that bill rather nicely,” Jane says pointedly, then, “And there was a time when the Sinclair men would laugh at such a description.”
“I don’t think it’s funny anymore,” Michael tells her. “I think it’s ridiculous. And that was a long time ago, when we didn’t know any better.”
I’m really surprised Jane is not offended by Michael’s brutal honesty.
“Well, I’m in good company,” Jane tells him. “Your beautiful cousin Abigail happens to be a proud Sloanie.”
I watch Michael’s mood darken.
“Don’t remind me.”
Jane laughs before continuing.
“But I don’t know about that Russian—” Jane realizes what she’s saying and stops herself. “Forgive me.”
He nods then motions toward the waiter.
“You’re forgiven for that slight and for the fact that you’ve completely intruded on a private dinner.”
My mouth drops open.
“I’m not the least bit offended,” Amelia says to me with a smile. “Michael doesn’t care what he says or who he offends. Clayton at least has a bit more decorum when it comes to what comes out of his mouth and as for your baby brother, William—”
