by Nadia Lee
Antoine grows serious. “Women don’t date their best friends’ exes, do they?”
“No. At least, we aren’t supposed to. Too awkward.”
“Right? Kind of the same thing.”
“There are lots of reasons people break up, and they don’t always become mortal enemies. And if your best friend and your ex are truly in love, most women let it go. At least they do if they’re real friends. Don’t you think Dominic’s friendship with you is strong enough?”
“I do.”
“Then why not?”
“You know I had a best friend before meeting Dominic, right?”
I blink. Well, sure… I just never gave it a ton of thought. It isn’t in my nature to dig like a spy, and Antoine never volunteered the information before.
“My best friend—former best friend—his name is Eddie. Anyway, we were inseparable, and he has a sister. She and I started dating, things got serious…but then it didn’t end well. She had some mental issues I didn’t recognize back then. He blames me for pushing her over the edge. Our friendship imploded, and he and I just…” Antoine shakes his head. “Let’s just say that if Eddie were to see me on fire, he’d run to get an extra can of gas.”
“That’s terrible. But how can he blame you for what happened? I can’t imagine you doing something on purpose to hurt someone.”
“Well, no, of course not.” He sighs. “But how I meant for things to happen isn’t really relevant. What is important is that it happened, and I hurt people. And that’s why I resisted you for so long. It took me a long time to find a new best friend, and I don’t want to lose him the way I did Eddie.”
“Well, I’m not like her, and Dominic isn’t Eddie. Even if things don’t work out between us for whatever reason, I’m not going to let Dominic blame you, assuming that he even would, which I doubt. My brother values your friendship. You’re his closest friend, and he trusts you completely. I know, because he trusts you with Liza’s safety, and she matters more to him than his own life.”
Antoine says nothing. Damn it. I don’t want this hanging over us, with him thinking that he’s on thin ice with Dominic. Relationships aren’t easy, even when the couple is crazy in love. Just look how things were between my brother and his new wife. And Antoine and I don’t yet have the kind of bond that always existed between Dominic and Liza.
So, very casually, I ask, “If you could, would you go back and change things?”
Antoine takes the last bite of his omelet and chews thoughtfully. After a while, I give up on getting an answer. Maybe it’s not something he’s really thought about. Antoine is a practical guy, not the type to get starry-eyed and daydream.
He rinses his plate and utensils and loads them into the dishwasher. After shutting it, he says, “Eddie and I weren’t just ‘friends.’ Our families were very close, and his father and mine had multiple, mutually profitable business dealings. Maman and his mother used to meet for coffee in the afternoon. Like, almost every day. Eddie and I grew up together, and we were like brothers.” He presses his palms against the edge of the counter and leans back against it, his eyes on mine. “Maman and Papa never said a word, but I wasn’t the only one who lost a best friend. They also lost their trusted business partner and friend. If I were ever given a chance to fix the situation, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Kristen
Antoine prepares my favorite breakfast the next day—crunchy cereal with chopped dried fruit and nuts. We didn’t talk about my proposal after our omelets yesterday. It’s like I never brought up a fake marriage, and thank God it’s not spoiling what we have.
“Dominic and Liza are going to be home today,” I say, after finishing half my coffee with a happy sigh or two. I could get used to this scene—sharing the first meal of the day with him. And unlike during the week, he’s relaxed and casual—in a white T-shirt and shorts, his hair sticking up in a few places. He couldn’t be sexier or more handsome or…anything.
He polishes off the last of his bacon. “Yeah, I know.”
“I’ve been thinking that I should probably go back to my apartment. The entire #PedHo thing is over, and that horde of paparazzi is gone.” I give a silent toast to juicier scandals, the current one involving a local politician who got caught propositioning an undercover vice cop. “And it’s sort of awkward to live with a newly wedded couple, you know?”
“I do, but I don’t think it’s wise. Your place isn’t really safe. They only have one security camera, in the entryway to the building, and it doesn’t even work… The area isn’t the best, either.”
“It isn’t the worst.”
“No, it isn’t, but I don’t like it. And neither will Dominic once he hears what I think.”
“Well, I can’t afford to move. That place is the best I could get. And I may not even be able to keep it unless I get another job soon.”
“Who cares about a new job? Use your trust. That’s what it’s for.”
“But it isn’t my money.”
“Of course it is. Dominic gave it to you.”
“But I didn’t earn it. And I feel weird about spending it.”
“How you feel is irrelevant. The trust is in your name, which makes it your money.”
“Yeah, something my brother did behind my back without discussing it with me first, which doesn’t automatically make it my money. If you’re that worried about my safety, why don’t you move in with me?”
Antoine looks at me like I just told him that I’m really a pacifist Klingon who deserted her army and got asylum on Earth because I happen to be the BFF with the Pope. But there’s something more. I narrow my eyes, studying Antoine’s face until I realize what it is. Oh my God, he’s scandalized.
What the hell? This is the twenty-first century. It isn’t like I proposed marriage again. A fake one, I mean. Argh. What am I even thinking?
On the other hand, maybe he thinks we’re moving too fast…? We were in a cold war—with him playing a douchebag and me going on a date with another guy.
And what do I know about a relationship in which one person moves too fast? Yeah, it ends badly because the person who doesn’t want to move so fast starts getting second thoughts. Or freaks out. Sometimes both. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t want you to move in even if you wanted to. It’s too early.” Then I add a little laugh to ease the tension. Except from Antoine’s expression, I’ve failed.
Just then, the intercom buzzes. I get to my feet. “I got it.”
I flee to the door. A flower delivery. Huh.
I stare at another gorgeous bouquet of red roses. Did Dominic order them for Liza? But he isn’t the type to get clichéd flowers. He would’ve sent something stunning and unexpected.
The delivery guy is a kid in a black skeleton T-shirt. He shoves a small tablet in my face. “Sign here, please.”
I scrawl my name on the screen, then hand him a few bucks from the change jar near the foyer Dominic keeps for tips. “Who sent these?”
The kid shrugs his skinny shoulders. “Dunno. I just deliver the flowers, don’t ask who they’re from. I think there’s a card, though.” He turns and disappears into the elevator.
Frowning, I bring the bouquet inside. Definitely not from Dominic. He wouldn’t have included a card. Red roses are my Number One Admirer’s choice of flowers. If he wants to be persistent, why is he sending them here rather than to my apartment?
Unless he knows I’m here… Ugh. Freak!
“Who are those from?” Antoine asks, staring narrow-eyed at the flowers.
I shrug. “One of my many admirers, probably.”
His mouth tight, Antoine reaches over, plucks the card from the bouquet and rips it open. His frown deepens, but the venom in his eyes dissipates—a little.
“What the hell is this?” he says, waving the card.
I take it and read it.
Don’t be so picky, my love. Be grateful for everything I’ve given you. You have no idea what grand plans I have fo
r us.
–Your Number One Admirer
“This isn’t Amour,” he says.
“No, it’s someone new. It started after that tabloid article. I’m sure it’s just one of my coworkers having fun at my expense or something.” I don’t say anything about the creepy work picture. Antoine wouldn’t take it well, and things are already sort of awkward at the moment.
“Then what’s this shit about not being so picky?”
“I threw out the other flowers that he sent. And I guess he saw and got annoyed.”
“Do you know who? Suspect anybody?”
“No, not re—” Preston. He was the only one who saw me toss the flowers. And he looked and sounded kind of upset, questioning and talking to me the whole time.
“Preston!”
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s just an intern, completely harmless. It’s probably some weird college kid prank.” It makes perfect sense. Preston moves around all the time from department to department, floor to floor, and I bet he heard everything there is to know about me. He’s a bit intense, but he isn’t crazy enough to do anything.
Antoine doesn’t look reassured. “Every sociopath seems harmless until he actually does something.”
“Of course. I know that better than anyone.” My cousin Andy was normal, too. Until he decided he was tired of being normal.
“Then you should take this more seriously.”
“What you want me to do? Call the cops again? But what am I gonna tell them? ‘Oh, officer, I feel so threatened by roses.’ Sending somebody flowers isn’t exactly a crime, even if there’s a creepy note attached. Besides, Preston isn’t the type to get in your face. And these”—I gesture at the flowers—“are just his way of letting me know he’s annoyed and upset I threw his flowers out. I’m not going to worry about it.”
“Or it’s a sign that he’s becoming obsessed with you. There were lots of roses delivered to your apartment as well.”
“There were?”
“Yup. I’ve been checking up on your place, just to make sure.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t want to worry you. I’m going to take care of your other stalkers soon, too.” Antoine frowns. “Anyway, this is the reason I don’t want you going home at the moment. Okay, fine, Preston might just be some harmless college kid being stupid. But I’m not taking any chances.”
“All right. But just so you know, I’m not staying with Dominic and Liza forever. I hate feeling like a third wheel.”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” He reaches out and holds my hand. “Everyone wants you safe, Kristen.”
I nod. But all this talk of returning to my place is moot if I can’t find a job soon. Without a steady paycheck, I’m going to get evicted. I should pretty up my résumé and start sending it out this evening.
My phone rings. I grab it, then pause. The call is from Lola.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kristen
It’s always a great honor to meet with Lola herself. I saw her only four times this year, never for more than an hour each time. And never one on one. She’s a busy woman.
If it were under any other circumstances, I’d be peeing my pants with excitement. Normally, such an exalted personage wouldn’t even know I exist. But here she is, at a café on a Saturday to talk to someone she fired earlier this week.
Although I applied nothing but a coat of mascara and lipstick on my face, I put some thought into my outfit and chose a sleeveless purple Dior dress Jo sent me. It’s elegant and sexy, the color exceptionally deep and vivid. The pearl stud earrings and necklace add to the classy feel.
But compared to Lola, I’m underdressed. Lola is in a royal blue dress of her own design, paired with a set of faux diamonds that looks understated and expensive. Her hair’s pulled up, resting like a crown around her head in a complex updo. Her full makeup is flawless, her eyes calculating and intelligent. She sits like a queen in the humble wooden chair, and doesn’t bother with her iced coffee.
Lola wastes no time. “I’m not going to play word games with you. I just want you to know that perhaps we were hasty.”
“We?”
“Yes. We.”
“Is that the royal we?”
She arches an eyebrow.
“You and I both know that nothing happens at Lola, Inc. without your say-so.”
“Direct. I like that.”
“We’re both busy women,” I say, keeping my voice as calm as possible. “I thought you’d appreciate the candor.”
A faint smile crosses her face. “It makes things easier. I don’t have to explain to you how reputation matters, especially in fashion.”
“Are you here to repeat the speech you made about how fashion is about crafting an image?”
“I was going to, but you seem to know it already.”
It’s true. I know all of Lola’s speeches and essays. Several of them by heart.
She continues, “You do understand that your…situation…was creating the kind of image that nobody wants, right?”
“I do. And you’re here, which means you realize that what you did created an image that you aren’t sure you like.”
Her face remains impassive. “If you want to come back, I’ll welcome you with open arms. And I’ll mentor you myself, as a gesture of apology.” The second the word slips from her lips, a small wince crosses her face.
“Apology?” I smile thinly. “I thought you were convinced you acted correctly in firing me.”
“Karen works for me, so what she did becomes my responsibility.” She sighs. “Look, I’m not doing this because I think I did something wrong, Kristen. I’m offering because I see great potential in you. You’re a promising designer, and you have a very good sense of style. You’re creative, and you work hard. Why wouldn’t I want you back, or to nurture your talent?”
What she’s dangling in front of me is really, really tempting. Earlier I swore I wouldn’t take the job back. But that hypothetical scenario didn’t include Lola mentoring me personally. I could learn so much from her. And if I did go back, I wouldn’t have to search for another position. Lola didn’t pay a lot, but she paid enough. I’d be able to maintain my financial independence and not touch the trust.
Still, do I really want to go back to a place where people thought the worst of me? If something like this happens again, there’s no guarantee that they’ll stand by me.
Lola looks surprised. “You’re hesitating.”
“It’s difficult not to, especially after the experience I had. Loyalty matters to me, and I was thrown out pretty fast once the story broke.”
“I understand. You have your pride. At the same time, think carefully about this, Kristen. I know how much you love fashion, and I don’t offer to personally mentor people unless I see great potential. I hope you make a decision that’s mutually advantageous.” She gets up and leaves.
I sip my drink, somewhat puzzled by that last remark. I’m not totally stupid or naïve. Upset employees can cause bad publicity and cost companies money with lawsuits. Lola obviously wants to put this whole ugly incident into the rearview mirror, and getting mentored by her would be an amazing opportunity for me. But mutually advantageous? How would my going back be advantageous for Lola?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kristen
I walk outside the café, ready to head back home—well, Dominic’s penthouse. The question of how I would be an asset to Lola keeps rolling in my head. I’m good, but not so good as to be irreplaceable. I’m not there yet.
“Kristen.”
I turn around and see Nick walking up. His demeanor is as thoughtful as the first date we had. But unlike that time, he’s in a white I Heart New York T-shirt and shorts. His forearms and calves are ropey, but not thick and strong the way Antoine’s are. And his shoulders are wide, but lack the bulk and solidity of…
I shake myself mentally. Why am I comparing the two?
&nb
sp; “Nick.” I smile, extra bright with a dollop of confusion and guilt. “Hi.”
The grin he shoots me is as clear as the L.A. sky, and just as sunny. “It’s so good to run into you again. How are you?”
“Good, thanks.” I shift my weight, as he keeps looking at me expectantly. What’s the etiquette for dealing with a guy with whom you had one date that didn’t end well? Especially when you end up with the man who interrupted said date? I’m not sure even “Dear Abby” would know what to do.
“Glad to hear it,” he says, the smile still on his face. It’s like he’s forgotten all about his confrontation with Antoine.
In some ways, it’s a relief…but it’s oddly creepy. Most men would at least mention the incident somehow, rather than act like everything’s just fantastic.
“Nicolas, darling. Sorry I made you wait.”
A woman loops an arm through his. She isn’t his date. Tall, with dark brown hair and sharp, wide-set brown eyes, she and Nick share too much of a family resemblance. At the same time, she’s too old to be his sister—unless she’s aged really badly, which I doubt. The woman’s entirely too self-assured and well put together to let herself go in any way. Unlike Nick, she doesn’t have an air of vague intellectualism. And she’s dressed to impress in the latest red Versace, paired with Louboutin shoes. The accessories on her are from Tiffany and Cartier.
“No problem.” He pats her hand, where large diamonds sparkle.
She turns to me. “And this is…?”
He graces us with a charming grin, the kind that might make me go weak in my knees if I didn’t have Antoine in my life. “Maman, this is my good friend Kristen. Kristen, this is my mother, Nicole.”
She gives me a friendly smile. “How do you do?” She extends her hand, and we shake. She has a great grip—firm and strong. “I’m surprised Nicolas has already made a friend in the city. He hasn’t been here for long.”
“He’s a friendly guy.”
“Isn’t he just?” she says, all proud mom.
