The Perfect Illusion

by Winter Renshaw

  “He wasn’t keeping it a secret,” I say. “He was waiting for the right time to tell you. He wanted to announce it here, in front of everyone.”

  “Well, either way.” Her eyes widen before squinting. “I wasn’t my best self that day, and for that, I apologize. I look forward to getting to know you, dear. You must be something special for my son to finally take himself off the market.”

  “Thank you, Helena. I look forward to getting to know you as well.”

  We stand in silence, each of us eye to eye, and then she nods.

  “Okay, well, I’ll let you get settled. Please join us outside when you’re ready,” she says. “My husband should be back from town any moment with the lobsters. He can’t wait to meet you.”

  Helena shows herself out, closing the door when she leaves, and I sink into the middle of a down-covered bed, surrounded by a million fluffy pillows.

  This is heaven on earth.

  Literally.

  I don’t ever want to leave.

  A gentle knock at the door pulls me out of my Cinderella moment, and I spring up, adjusting my hat and brushing my hair back into place.

  “Come in,” I call.

  The door cracks open and Hudson steps in. “Just checking on you. Is this room going to be okay?”

  “Are you kidding me?” I rise, moving to him, and I can’t stop smiling. “This is the nicest room I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

  He laughs, like he thinks I’m joking.

  I’m not.

  “I could live here,” I say. “Forever.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  “She put you in the east tower,” he says.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I arch a brow.

  “You’re going to be over here all alone.” He slips his hands into his pockets and moves toward the windows. “Everyone else stays in the south wing. Or the guest house.”

  “Maybe she just wanted to give me privacy? I’m not going to complain about this room,” I say with a sigh. “I mean, how could I? Look at that view.”

  “You should see the views from my room.”

  “Are you trying to give me a complex? Your mother was nice enough to put me up in this beautiful suite and apologize for the way she behaved the first time we met,” I say. “Don’t make me second-guess her intentions or it’s going to be a long four weeks.”

  Hudson comes closer, taking my hands in his and pressing his body nearly against mine. “Just wish you were closer to me, that’s all.”

  I tilt my head, chuffing. “You don’t have to do this. No one’s watching.”

  “I don’t have to do what?”

  “Pretend.”

  “I’m not pretending. I wish you were closer,” he says, eyes searching mine.

  “Why? For booty call purposes?”

  “Booty call? Do people even use that term anymore?”

  I roll my eyes again, and he slips his hands around my waist. Breathing him in, my heart skips a hard beat before settling into a quick rhythm.

  “I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing.” I say, half-teasing, half just being honest. “Why do I feel like you want to kiss me right now?”

  “I want to do a lot more than just kiss you right now.” He snickers, his hand sliding up my arm before settling just beneath my jaw. Angling my mouth toward his, he brings his lips close but goes no further. “I know what you are to me, Mari. And I know what this is. But having you here is like this … breath of fresh air … that’s the only way I know how to describe it. And your body in this dress … and my mother placing you just a hair out of reach … is pure fucking torture.”

  “Like you had a chance anyway.”

  “Like I had a chance? Mari, I’ve already had you,” he says. “But I want you again.”

  “What makes you so sure the feeling’s mutual?”

  “If I kissed you right now,” he asks, “would you make me stop?”

  The warmth of his lips graze mine, though he hasn’t kissed me. Not yet.

  Someone clears their throat in the corner, and our lust-filled gazes dart in that direction.

  “Hello, Mother,” Hudson says.

  “The Sheffields have arrived. Please make yourselves presentable and join us downstairs.” Helena disappears before I have a chance to read her expression, and I was too embarrassed to make eye contact.

  “Oh, god.” I bury my face in my hands.

  “Trust me, that was more awkward for her than it was for us,” he says, pulling my hands down. “But we shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

  He leads me down the hallways and corridors and around corners until we get to the curved staircase where laughter echoes off the white-washed walls and double-height foyer ceiling.

  “There he is!” A round-bellied man in country club attire waddles toward Hudson, arms open wide. “Hudson, it’s been too long. Haven’t seen you since … this time last year.”

  The man laughs at his own joke and reminds me of a retired uncle who probably golfs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

  “Good to see you, Duke.” Hudson pulls me close.

  “Is this …?” A woman in sleek, sun-bleached hair and a vintage Emilio Pucci maxi dress sashays in our direction, her fingers lifting to her lips and an enormous diamond glinting in the natural sunlight.

  “My fiancée,” Hudson says, tossing me a wink. “Duke and Cybil Sheffield, meet Maribel Collins.”

  “Well isn’t she a pretty little thing?” Cybil’s excited tone is forced as she steps in and air kisses my cheek, and she keeps a careful distance. I can’t help but feel like she’s sizing me up, comparing me to her daughter. “Audrina, meet Hudson’s future wife.”

  She says “future wife” like the words leave a curious taste in her mouth, but Hudson gives my hand a reassuring squeeze.

  “So you’re the lucky girl.” Audrina’s eyes wash over me head to toe as she squares her shoulders. She’s pretty, in a mean-girl sort of way. Too pretty, almost. Life’s been generous to her. Silky, chocolate hair drips down her shoulders, and her skin is flawless, lacking so much as a single worry line or premature wrinkle. Hooking a hand on her bony hip, her bee-stung lips arch into a devious smile. “Welcome to the family.”

  Chapter 18

  Mari

  I feel like now wouldn’t be the best time to tell Helena I’m not the biggest fan of seafood, so I bite my tongue and decide to suffer through.

  It’s just one dinner.

  One of many.

  I’m sure I’ll be downing all kinds of New England fare over the next few weeks, and I might as well learn to appreciate some properly cooked, freshly caught seafood.

  Helena prances around the kitchen in an unstained blue gingham apron with white lace trim, peering over the shoulders of one of the chefs as he drops a live lobster into a pot of boiling water.

  I reach for a glass of water and look away.

  I can’t.

  “Would anyone like another glass of wine?” Helena returns to the table, a bottle of red in her left hand and a bottle of white in her right.

  “Yes, please.” Audrina holds her glass by the stem. “You always have the best wines, Helena. Your collection is second to none.”

  “You’re too sweet,” Helena says. “Conrad and I picked this one up the last time we were in Monaco.”

  “You know I’ve still never been,” Cybil says, waving her hand.

  “That’s insane. You know you’re missing out. It’s the most beautiful place.” Helena waves her hand back at Cybil. “And Princess Grace.”

  They both utter a collective sigh, and I pretend not to be bored out of my mind. But it isn’t their fault. I’ve never been a huge fan of small talk.

  “So, Maribel.” Audrina turns to me, twisting her wine goblet between her manicured fingers. “What do you think of Sea La Vie so far?”

  “It’s beautiful.” I take a sip of water, and she watches me closely.
/>
  “First time in the Hamptons?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Not a fan of wine?” Audrina asks, only her voice grows an octave louder, causing Cybil and Helena to cut their conversation short and glance my way.

  I pull my shoulders back and smile. “I don’t drink.”

  “Oh.” Audrina lifts her brows, her green eyes round. “I suppose it’s not polite to ask, but there aren’t a lot of people our age who don’t enjoy the occasional glass of wine …”

  No. It’s not polite to ask.

  What if I were a recovering alcoholic? What if I were on some special medication that didn’t mix well with alcohol?

  She knows what she’s doing.

  “I just … don’t drink.” I place my water glass aside and offer her a modest smile.

  She doesn’t buy it, but I don’t care.

  Two can play this game.

  The men step inside from the patio, smelling of expensive cigars and sea salt air. Hudson’s father, Conrad, glances my way, giving me a warm smile.

  I like him.

  I met him shortly after the Sheffields arrived, and I think he could tell I was put on the spot, so he took the heat off me and told them some story about some mutual friend of theirs. As the Sheffields were shown to their suites, he pulled me aside and told me that he looked forward to getting to know me and hopes I’ll be comfortable during my stay.

  And he meant it, too.

  His blue eyes, the ones that match Hudson’s fleck for fleck, crinkled at the corners and his tone was cordial and confident, like a man who means what he says and doesn’t have time for petty games.

  Hudson takes the seat between myself and Audrina, slipping his arm around the back of my chair. Leaning closer, his lips brush against my ear.

  “You doing okay?” he whispers.

  It’s sweet that he cares.

  “Totally fine,” I whisper back.

  When I lean away, I catch a glance of Audrina from my periphery, her stare lingering on the two of us before she flicks her attention toward her wine glass and takes a generous taste.

  “The lobster will be done soon,” Helena tells the men. “Please have a seat. I hope you brought your appetites.”

  Duke rubs his bulbous belly and plops down into the seat next to Conrad at the head of the table. Cybil and Helena yammer on about vintage tiaras, which I’m assuming was one of the subjects they studied at boarding school back in the day because they both seem to know an awful lot.

  “How could you not like the Strathmore Rose?” Cybil’s jaw drops.

  “I just find it a little … anti-climactic for my taste.” Helena swirls her red wine, shaking her head. “Now, give me the Pearl Poire and you’ve got my attention.”

  Cybil laughs. “Of course.”

  “Audrina, you seem bored.” Helena rests her cheek on her hand. “Your brother will be here tomorrow. That’ll keep you good and entertained.”

  The ladies laugh, but Audrina stares ahead, toward the sun setting on the sea, slightly wistful, slightly lost in thought.

  “Can’t wait,” she says, monotone.

  “Oh, come on. You haven’t seen your brother in months,” Cybil says. “I know you two miss each other, even if you won’t admit it.”

  “How’s he doing, by the way?” Hudson asks. “Saw him in the city not too long ago, but then he said he had to go overseas for work.”

  Cybil sighs. “Yes, if only Alec could stay in one place for more than a weekend or two.”

  Helena chuckles. “Can’t blame him for living his life, now can we? He’s young and the entire world is at his fingertips.” Her eyes dart to me. “Maybe one of these days, Alec will meet a lovely young woman like Maribel and decide that planting roots is more appealing than sowing wild oats.”

  “To God’s ears, Helena.” Cybil lifts her glass, toasting to Helena’s suggestion, and the women push their chairs out one at a time before heading to the kitchen.

  With Duke and Conrad deep in conversation at the far end of the table, it’s just the three of us now.

  “Hudson, I wanted to show you guys my newest masterpiece.” Conrad rises from the head of the table. “Hurry, before your mother comes back and tries to stop me.”

  “Masterpiece?” I ask.

  “My father makes those ships-in-a-bottle,” he says, brushing his lips against my cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  Hudson’s absence is marked with a noticeable chill in the air, but I refuse to wallow in it.

  “So, Audrina, where are you from?” I turn my attention to the Ice Princess.

  Her dark lashes flutter, and she sits up straight. “Potomac, Maryland.”

  “Like the Real Housewives.”

  “The real what?”

  “The Real Housewives of Potomac?” I ask. “It’s a show? On Bravo?”

  Her perfect, pointed nose wrinkles. “Never heard of it.”

  “Oh? Okay.” I reach for my water glass, but it’s empty. “So, how long have you known the Rutherfords?”

  “My entire life.” She swirls her goblet but doesn’t take a drink. Resting her cheek on her hand, she stares ahead like she’d rather be anywhere but here.

  “Where did you go to college?” I ask.

  I wish she knew this was just as painful for me as it likely is for her, but at least one of us is trying.

  “Seriously?” Audrina sniffs.

  “What?”

  “You really want to do this?” she asks.

  I laugh, because this woman has to be joking.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask.

  “The whole getting-to-know you thing. It’s lame. And I’m bored. Besides, anything you want to know about me, you can find out from Hudson. Sometimes I think he knows me better than I know myself.”

  Refusing to elaborate, she rises from the table and saunters away.

  Before I have a chance to process what just happened, Hudson returns with the men and takes his seat next to me.

  “Dinner’s on its way,” Helena announces from the doorway before glancing to us. “Where’s Audrina?”

  I shrug. “She just … left.”

  “Typical Audrina,” Hudson says under his breath before slipping his hand under the table cloth and resting it on my knee. Leaning in, he adds, “She has a penchant for the dramatic arts. Don’t let her get to you.”

  Sitting up straight, I remind myself I’m here for one thing and one thing only.

  I have a job to do.

  And I’ll be damned if I give a flying fuck what the Potomac Ice Princess thinks.

  “Believe me, I won’t,” I whisper, feeling his steady gaze on me. All evening he’s been looking at me like I walked straight out of the pages of this year’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition.

  “Cut it out, you two!” Cybil chuckles, seating herself across from us as the chefs bring plates of garnished, well-presented lobster. “God, you make me miss being young. Those were the days, weren’t they, Duke?”

  “What’s that, dear?” Duke turns his focus from Conrad and slips his arm around his wife.

  “These two,” Cybil says, wearing a slow, wine-induced grin. “They remind me of us when we were young.”

  “Wait,” Duke says, his brows meeting. “You mean … we’re not young anymore?”

  The entire table erupts into polite laughter at Duke’s lame joke, and I realize just as a bright red crustacean is being placed before me that I have no idea how to eat this thing.

  Shit.

  Everyone is focused on their plates, their silverware tinkling against the china as the conversation evaporates into quiet chewing.

  It looks so natural to them, like they’ve done this a million times before. I glance toward the head of the table where a bowl of dinner rolls rests, untouched, in front of Duke. If I had something else on my plate, at least I could look busy. Sitting here, staring at this cherry red cockroach-of-the-sea and clearly not eating it is going to be glaringly obvious the second these peo
ple take a break from cracking claws.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say softly, leaning into Hudson.

  “Everything okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah. Fine. I’m going to go find Audrina and let her know we’re eating.” Excusing myself, I head for the nearest bathroom and retrieve my phone, quickly pulling up an online video on how to eat lobster.

  When I leave, I bump into Audrina standing in the dimly lit hallway before a mirror, a small makeup compact in her hand as she presses powder into the skin around her nose.

  “There you are,” I say. “We’re eating.”

  She shoots me a death glare, and it’s only then that I see the red in her eyes.

  “You’ve been crying.” I take a step closer, though every part of me is screaming inside to let it go.

  She doesn’t want my sympathy.

  She wants Hudson.

  “How astute of you, Maribel.” She snickers, rolling her eyes.

  “I don’t know what went down between you and Hudson in the past,” I say, “but he’s moved on and this wedding is happening, and it’s really in everyone’s best interest if we could all move forward with respect and kindness.”

  Audrina laughs. “God, you’re pathetic. Do you hear yourself right now?”

  My jaw clenches. I refuse to let this pompous bitch get the best of me.

  “How well do you even know Hudson anyway?” Audrina turns to me, her emerald eyes halfway between a squint and a glare. “It’s like you just came out of nowhere.”

  “I know him well enough to know I’m going to marry him.” I raise my chin, folding my arms across my chest.

  “He’s not the marrying kind,” she says, clicking her compact shut.

  “Maybe he didn’t use to be. People change all the time,” I say. “From the moment I met him, he’s shown me that people aren’t always what they seem. And if you take the time to get to know them, sometimes you realize they’re worth all the trouble they put you through.”