by Zahra Girard
“For real?”
“It’s the only other thing Nebraska’s famous for. What else is he going to get?”
We get to the car and I sit down in the comfortable leather seat. I’ve got a ring on my finger, a new wardrobe that’s being tailored just for me, and a man by my side who’s willing to treat me like a queen — even if it all is just for show.
“There’s just one last thing to do,” he says to me, once we’re back on the road.
“What’s that?”
“We need to relax. I’m thinking a nice dinner, a few drinks, and maybe we call in a few masseuses. Because tomorrow night, we’re going public.”
“Public?” I say. There’s a feeling of dread that dawns over me. It sounds ominous, serious, like something beyond shaking a few hands and changing a Facebook status.
“Tomorrow night, one of the board members of Stone Capital, Gordon Cunningham, is holding a charity event at his place. It’s very exclusive, and it’ll probably be insanely boring, but I want to start the rumor mill churning.”
“Do we have to?” I say. I can’t imagine being in some room with a bunch of rich people who are probably going to poke and pry into every detail of our lives. I can already see our fake relationship crumbling under their interrogation.
“Do you want to get paid?”
He says it so flippantly, so point-blank, but there’s a threat there that’s barley buried in his words. I’m catching a glimpse of the other side of him, the side that’ll roll up his sleeves and use whatever tool — including people, including me — at his disposal to get things done.
I grit my teeth. “Yes.”
“Then we’re going to dinner. I made an investment in you, Melody. We have a deal. And I expect to get a return.”
Chapter Ten
Melody
There’s an endless starry sky above us, tiny twinkling lights that shine down with their lights echoed in the flickering flames of the torch-like candles lining the long, meandering driveway of a mansion an hour’s drive from San Francisco.
It ends in a large, looping cul-de-sac in front of a mansion that looks more like a manor, like some old-fashioned nobleman’s estate that’s been transplanted from the English countryside to this little spot outside of the city.
The cul-de-sac is abuzz with activity, with valets to meet each arriving car, and guests milling about on the way up into the house that’s sprawled across the hillside.
“Are you ready? Remember, don’t be intimidated by anyone here. If anything, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“That’s what people say about wild animals.”
“And there’s not much different between these people and any dog you’d find in an alley, aside from millions of dollars and the fact that dogs are probably more polite than some of the people here.”
“That’s not doing much for my confidence.”
“Like so many things, if you can fake it long enough, it’ll become real. And remember, I’m here for you. I know you can do this.”
Julian gets out and opens the door for me and I step out and holding his arm. Together we enter into the fray. I’m wrapped in a little black dress from Oscar de la Renta, sewn from satin and sex, that fits me better-than-perfect. My ring glitters on my finger like a beaming beacon of my status, drawing the eyes of everyone around us.
He gives me a kiss on the cheek just as people start to turn. “You can do this,” he whispers. “You have to.”
I don a smile and look around me. I feel like a queen about to hold court, with my king by my side. But Julian doesn’t spare hardly attention for the people outside, he leads me through them and into the house.
This place is like a castle.
It’s vast, enormous, and just entering it is enough that I feel small.
“They’re just people and not a damn one of them is better than you,” he whispers to me, like he’s reading my thoughts. Then he looks me up and down, blatantly running his eyes over every curve of my body. “Remind me later to go back to that shop and tip Stephanie — you look absolutely stunning in that dress.”
“Thank you. You look pretty nice yourself,” I say, my cheeks hot.
Truthfully, he looks better than nice. Masculine and handsome beyond words. Every stitch of his tux fits him just right, making him look both royal and refined, and yet contouring tight to his muscular body like a lover’s embrace.
Julian Stone is one incredible piece of man and he’s all mine; I can’t help myself — I hop up on my tiptoes and kiss him right on the lips. There’s a quick beat where he seems surprised, but then he rolls with it, kissing me back with all the hunger and fierceness I’d expect from a man with his reputation.
It’s like he wants to devour me. And I love it.
When we finally break, we walk like we own the place. Arm in arm, chins high. Still, it’s hard for me not to feel some awe and doubt. Being around these people feels like being in the stratosphere, struggling to pull air into my lungs.
I take a breath.
I look up at Julian. He’s utterly confident, and if he believes in me, I can too.
I’m strong enough.
I exhale.
We pass through the house, ignoring everyone that’s trying to cling-on or divert us, to enter into the back yard. This is more of an estate than anything else. It’s expansive and lit by the flickering lights of torches. Dining tables are set up throughout the huge back patio, and guests circulate, drinking champagne and sampling canapes, and while the music of a string quartet serenades us.
We pass by everyone and head straight for what is unquestionably the table for the hosts and his VIP guests.
I don’t recognize a single one, but these faceless men and women are unquestionably the most wealthy, most important ones here. They’re all older — the youngest of them is some woman in her late forties who I think I recognize from seeing her face on some entrepreneur magazine at the grocery store a few months ago.
“Gordon, so good to see you,” Julian calls out as soon as we’re in earshot. “Wonderful party you have here.”
An older man, impeccably dressed, with glasses, a bristling mustache and thinning gray hair swept back over his head, starts in his chair. “Julian?”
He doesn’t look too happy to see us. Not angry, just confused more than anything.
I steal two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. I have a feeling I’ll need them.
“Sorry to drop in unannounced like this, Gordon, but I really wanted to be here to show my support for your cause.”
Gordon frowns, ever so slightly. “How’d you get in?”
“I walked in,” he says, shrugging. “Easy as that.”
I can feel the heat in the stares of every person at this table. Never have I felt more like an interloper in my entire life.
Fake it till you make it suddenly seems like the biggest lie in the world.
I sip my champagne, wondering if I should try and drag Julian out of here before this little face off turns into a scene.
“Why?” Gordon asks. “You never expressed any interest in animal welfare and wildlife rescue at any point, ever, in any of our conversations. Hell, you never expressed any interest in anything but yourself.”
Julian leans in on the table, hands planted firm enough they make a ‘thud’ when they connect. “That was before I got engaged. I’m here because animal welfare is very important to her,” he says, pointing to me. I blush and feel my chest puff up with pride. “And she is very important to me. Besides, making a million dollar donation by mail or through your website is way to impersonal.”
Gordon blinks and relaxes. I see a couple others blink, too.
“A million?” he says. “We were only asking ten thousand a plate.”
Julian smiles. “I have a lot of shit to make up for, you know that as well as anyone. And part of turning over a new leaf is making amends.”
“To the animals?”
“As a start. Besides, only heartless basta
rds would refuse to help rescue animals. It’s been years, but I still feel get a twinge whenever that Sarah McLachlan commercial comes on.”
Everyone nods.
You’d have to be dead not to feel something hearing that song and seeing the endless parade of sad animals. I’m feeling a little misty just thinking about it.
But maybe it’s not just that Sarah McLachlan song, maybe it’s from the way Julian singled me out as the cause of him wanting to do something positive.
“Well, thank you, Julian. You and your fiance should sit down. Please, I insist,” Gordon says, going from tense to gracious in the blink of an eye.
We join the table and I end up next to the entrepreneur woman whose name I should know, but I can’t quite remember. Her eyes dart to my left hand almost right away.
“That’s a lovely ring,” she tells me. “Can I see it?”
“Thank you,” I say, and I let her take a closer look at it, all the while trying to keep a semi-dignified smile on my face while this wealthy woman ooh’s and ahh’s over my fake engagement ring.
“Look at how it shines,” she says to another woman seated next to her, who’s also eying my ring. “And, I am so sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier. I’m Mackenzie Rawlings, and this is my fiance, Valerie Demeter.”
I keep a straight face, because I’m supposed be a part of this world and not just some faker. I might not have known her face, but I know her name — she’s only the founder of a pioneering genetics research firm worth tons and tons of money.
“So nice to meet you,” I say, shaking both their hands gently and while my brain runs overdrive hunting for a fake last name. “Melody Chadwick, soon to be Stone.”
Julian’s eyes dart towards me for a second and I see him make an almost imperceptible nod. I’ve got a fake last name, now.
“Chadwick? Any relation to the Chadwicks of Eastwood?” Valerie asks.
“No relation,” I say. I take a long drink of my champagne to stall the conversation and hopefully stop them from asking any more about me. “So, where did you two meet?”
Valerie and Mackenzie share a look and a smile before Mackenzie answers. “At her fashion show, in Milan. Valerie used to be a model.”
“A long time and many pounds ago,” Valerie says.
I don’t know what the hell she’s talking about — the woman is in incredible shape and looks stunning in her tight red cocktail dress. I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat on her.
“We were both younger then, and we both had our careers to think about — mine, especially, as board rooms are tough enough for a woman alone, not to mention a gay one. So, there was a lot of games, a lot of sneaking around, a lot of faking like we weren’t in love,” Mackenzie says.
“It was so hard,” Valerie says. “I knew the second I met her that she was special. She still makes me feel like I’m glowing inside.”
Mackenzie smiles and kisses Valerie on the cheek. “Eventually, I was secure enough in my job and myself that I just said to hell with it, let them talk. So we got engaged.”
“That’s wonderful. When’s the wedding?” I say.
“Next June, in the Hamptons,” Valerie says, putting her hand lightly on my shoulder. “If you and Julian are free, you two should come.”
“I don’t know—,” I start stuttering. “I mean, that’s so generous of you.”
“Please, I insist,” Mackenzie chimes in. “I saw you two come in and I could tell right away that you were meant to be. I’ve never once seen Julian Stone bring a date to any of these events. And it’s certainly not because he’s had a lack of options.”
I look over at him and catch him staring at me with the shadow of a smile on his face. He winks at me and then turns back to Gordon, jumping deep into conversation. The two men look perfectly at ease with each other, and it looks like Julian’s winning over Gordon’s support for whatever move he has planned.
He’s making it seem so easy, that I can’t help but feeling that he could’ve done this whole thing with Gordon on his own, that he doesn’t need me here. That he wants me here instead.
This is fake, I remind myself, sighing. In a little while, you’ll go back to your job, to your life, and this will be all over. And Julian’s thinking the same thing. All you are is a tool to him, something to make it easier for him to make himself even richer and fuck over whoever it is that’s trying to steal his company from him.
That’s it. That’s all it is. He’s said as much.
But it still feels good seeing the way he’s looking at me.
“Where did you two meet?” Valerie says.
I snap back to the conversation and start fumbling for a story that doesn’t involve me being a stripper.
“Portland,” I say. “I, uh, I work with a few animal shelters up there, actually. But that’s not how I met Julian. I bumped into him at a coffee shop next to the gym I Zumba at.”
Is Zumba a verb? Can you Zumba something?
Mackenzie and Valerie both nod.
“I saw her and I knew I had to get her number. And it wasn’t just because she looked stunning in her workout outfit, with a very nice bit of sweat on her cleavage,” Julian says, chiming in and giving my cleavage a seriously wolfish look.
I blush. He reaches across the table to take my hand.
“He said he was passing through town on the way up to some job in Alaska and wanted to know if there were any good places nearby to get a bite to eat. I told him about this Moroccan joint just down the street that does this great lamb Tagine,” I say. “He told me to cancel whatever else I had planned for that afternoon, then he practically dragged me there. It was desperate, kind of sad, but kind of cute.”
“Desperate?” he says. “As I remember it, you were so thirsty that you were literally drooling after I said hello. I invited you to lunch because I was trying to be charitable.”
“Charitable?”
“Yeah, I thought you might’ve had some sort of… condition. You were stammering a lot, and, again, there was the drooling.”
“That wasn’t drool, darling, that was perspiration. I’d just been dancing my ass off. But then, I’m surprised you even noticed considering how much you were staring at my chest.”
“I can’t help you’re the most eye-catching woman I’ve ever seen,” he says.
My mouth drops open and I glower at him, but can’t think of a comeback. Not that I even really want a comeback, because just when I think I’ve got Julian backed into a corner, he comes up with something that shuts me up in the best way.
“Are you sure you two aren’t married already?” Gordon says.
“I’m sure,” I answer.
“Well, it’s cute the way the two of you bicker. And I can hear the affection in the way you do it — that’s how you know it’s going to last,” Valerie says. “My grandparents, they fight all the time, but they do it with love. They celebrated their 65th anniversary just three months ago.”
“I want to propose a toast to the two lovebirds,” Gordon says, raising his glass. “To the woman who turned Julian Stone into something resembling respectability, which on it’s own is a great accomplishment,” he says, and everyone chuckles, “and to Julian and our future together at Stone Capital. Cheers.”
We raise our glasses and bring them together and my eyes met Julian’s and there’s this look on his face that I only catch for a moment, but it runs deeper than affection, deeper than lust.
Is this real?
Chapter Eleven
Julian
Melody’s a knockout.
And she’s all mine.
We get through dinner like a dream, Melody looking like a vision of grace the whole damn time. Everyone at the table is enraptured with her, and I feel free around her to show a side of myself that Gordon and the others haven’t seen before.
I feel like I’m just floating along and my ears are still ringing from all the compliments Gordon lavishes on the two of us.
It takes all the focus I
have just to keep on track with Gordon and make sure I have his support for when I plan to make my move.
But it’s happening.
All because of her.
I never thought it’d be this easy, but there’s something about her that’s incredible — the way she’s real, the way she’s genuine, the way that even when she’s inventing a fake history for the two of us, it sounds authentic. She elevates me.
I want her.
I want her like I’ve never wanted any other woman before.
I want to taste every curve of her body. I want to hear what it sounds like when she lets go, when she loses control as ecstasy makes her senseless..
I want to see what she looks like in the morning, with her hair ruffled and her makeup smeared and her naked body lit by the morning sun. I’m harder than I’ve ever been just thinking about her, and the ecstatic opportunities she offers.
The night ends as a total success. We get into the Jag and it’s a struggle for me to peel my eyes off her and put them on the road; the dress she’s got on is perfect — clingy, sophisticated, elegant, and exceedingly dirty.
My cock is harder than my stick shift and all I want is for her to reach over and put me into gear.
“We did good tonight, right?” she says, smiling slyly.
She knows it.
I nod, the bubbles from a night of champagne popping inside my head with each movement. “Real fucking good. Gordon is behind me one hundred percent, and it’s all thanks to you.”
Her eyes light up. “Thanks to us, you mean.”
She’s trying to be modest, but I’m not having it. “No, it’s all you, Melody. Before tonight, that guy would shoot lasers out of his eyes at me from across the boardroom.”
“Well, thank you,” she says.
I slow things down. I’m only slightly buzzed, but with Melody beside me, I’m more than a little distracted.
Sultry, charming, seductive, hotter than hell, I can’t get her out of my mind.
And the looks she’s been giving me throughout the night has me thinking that I’m not the only one feeling something physical between us.
