by Serena Grey
I breathe. “I’ve met your brother,” I tell her, intent on wiping the mocking smile from her face. “Evans Sinclair?” I smile wider. “It was a very… memorable meeting.”
She blanches a little, but she quickly recovers. So she’s embarrassed by her brother? I hold her gaze and take a sip from my glass, and her eyes narrow slightly.
“I thought you’d returned to San Francisco,” Landon says. He seems oblivious to the vibe I’m getting from her, or, I think sadly, maybe he just doesn’t care.
“Not yet.” She does a graceful headshake. “I had a few things to take care of.” She gives me another look then turns to Landon with a dazzling smile. “I want to say hello to Steven,” she says, taking his hand. “It’s been ages. Why don’t you come?”
She starts to move, then stops when he doesn’t follow her. He’s looking at me, and his eyes tell me that he’s not going anywhere without me. I decide to trust that, and ignore the way Ava is holding on to his hand. It doesn’t matter who she was to him, and what she wants now. That’s none of my business. What matters is Landon, and the fact that right now, he’s mine.
“We already saw him,” I hear him tell her. She lets go of his hand and I feel a little triumph. She gives me a quick glance, but I respond with another pleasant smile. She smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Alright then.” She wiggles her fingers charmingly, giving Landon another bright smile, before walking away.
We leave soon after that. On the way to his place, I decide not to ask him about her, or why he didn’t think it was important to tell me that she’d been his lover. I don’t want to trigger any feelings of jealousy that I wouldn’t be able to contain. Not tonight. Not when he’s leaving tomorrow. I don’t want the night to end with us fighting.
If he knows the reason for my silence, he doesn’t let on. As soon as the elevator deposits us in the foyer of his apartment, his lips are on mine, his hunger for me as real and tangible as the naked arousal pulsing through my body. We barely make it to his bedroom before he lifts my dress around my waist and bends me against the wall, ripping my panties and thrusting deep inside me.
He fucks me hard, his hands almost feverish as they explore my heated skin, but I don’t care. I only care about my need to touch him, to feel him, to drive out the thoughts of him with anybody else.
By the time he makes me come over and over, again and again, and I finally fall asleep, sated and pliant, I’ve almost succeeded.
CHELSEA comes through on the dress. A few hours after lunchtime, she leads me up to the Gilt Style floor, where everyone is insanely styled and so incredibly fashionable that they could all be models on a shoot. Nobody pays any attention to us as we make our way to the fashion department. There, we have to go up a flight of stairs to the storage floor, half of which houses the ‘storage closet.’
The doors are already open, and Veronica Short, Chelsea’s friend, is waiting. She’s tiny, about five-feet tall, with a shock of frizzy red hair. She drags on her e-cig and smiles at me. “You’re Rachel?” She looks satisfied. “I love your coloring, and your hair is just perfect. It’s a Midsummer Night’s Dream? So a fairytale? I love it!”
At first, I feel like a culprit as she leads us into the closet, but the more she talks, the more I get infected with her excitement. We make our way through the vast storage space. It’s totally crammed with unending closets, shoe racks, accessory bins… every usable space is packed with something and labeled with code I don’t even attempt to decipher. But Veronica navigates it like she knows the location of every scarf and belt. She unearths dresses and shoes and hair accessories, making me try them on, clucking her disapproval with each one she doesn’t like, before tossing another one at me.
We finally settle on a pale blue dress from a current collection. It has a flattering neckline, and a fitted bodice that hugs my waist and hips then flows down to drape loosely around my legs. The silky fabric at the neckline is studded with tiny glittering stones, which also rise from the hemline in exquisite patterns. Veronica smiles in approval and turns to Chelsea, who has been quiet since we came. “What do you think?”
“It’s fantastic,” Chelsea says, she’s leaning on one of the bins, nodding her head in approval. “It’s perfect with your hair,” she tells me. “You could pass for a wood nymph, or maybe Titania.”
“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes, but Veronica is nodding in agreement. She dashes off to find the right pair of shoes and a clutch, then sucking on her e-cig she hurries off again. This time she returns with a box containing a large hair clip. She brushes my hair to one side and places the clip, then steps back and rubs her hand together.
“I think you’re a genius, Veronica,” Chelsea declares.
I shift a little so I can see my reflection in a visible part of the mirrored walls, and I gasp. I really do look like a wood nymph, something beautiful straight out of a fairytale.
“Wow!” I exclaim.
“I know.” Veronica is grinning, and I feel so grateful I could hug her. She takes a picture with her phone, then packs everything up in a box. “I’d better see your pictures somewhere that matters,” she warns.
I’m going with Landon, so there’s no way my pictures won’t end up somewhere that ‘matters.’ Not that I really care. I had other things on my mind. Landon was already in San Francisco, probably caught in the whirl of final preparations and meetings, and somewhere in the same city, was Ava Sinclair.
He’s been fucking her for years.
I don’t want to dwell on her, and I’ve tried not to, but after I return to my office, my mind goes back to last night. They were comfortable with each other, friendly even. It didn’t look as if she was nursing any rancor about Landon supposedly dropping her like a ‘hot smelly potato’ as her brother said.
Maybe Evans Sinclair had exaggerated, I tell myself. Maybe it was his imagination that Landon had used his sister to get the Gold Dust. Maybe Landon and Ava were just friends and business partners. Maybe they’d never been lovers.
Even though I know the idea is wishful thinking, especially given her body language from last night, it still makes me feel better. I spend the next hour reading the comments on the latest of my articles on the Gilt Travel website, replying just a few of them.
Joe is with Landon in San Francisco, so I have a replacement driver, Rafael. When I’m ready to go home, I call him, and by the time I get downstairs, he’s waiting for me in a Swanson Court International town car. He’s younger than Joe, Latino, with wistful brown eyes and hair in a long dark ponytail.
“Good evening,” is all he says, when I’m inside the car. Like Joe, he doesn’t talk much.
“Good evening,” I reply, wondering if reticence was a quality Landon looked for in employees. Just then, my phone starts to ring. It’s Landon
“Still at work?” His voice is deep and husky on the phone, and it reminds me of last night, that same voice whispering endearments in my ear while he made love to me.
I’m suddenly overcome by a wave of loneliness. “No. I’m on the way home.”
“Lucky you.” He sounds wistful.
“How are things?”
“We’re ready.” He pauses. “I’m mostly waiting for you to get here.”
“What do you have planned for me?” I say with a smile.
I hear him chuckle. “Why don’t you come and find out.”
I sigh, missing him so much it actually hurts.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
“Just that I can’t wait to see you either,” I say truthfully.
“Rachel.” He says my name slowly, almost as if he’s savoring the sound on his tongue, and the knowledge that he feels the ache of our separation makes my heart swell. “Well, at least you still have your clubbing tomorrow night,” he reminds me.
I manage a laugh. “You’re still jealous.”
He doesn’t attempt to deny it. “I am, but I want you to have fun. I’ve arranged for Rafael to pick you up and take
you wherever you want, in a car more suited to night crawling.”
I raise a brow. “Really? What? A white stretch Cadillac limo?”
“Is that what you want?”
I sigh, knowing that if I said yes, he would make it happen. “Not particularly.”
He chuckles. “Something less ostentatious,” he says. “He’ll also make sure you’re safe.”
This obsession with my safety… It’s endearing, but tiring. “Why wouldn’t I be safe?”
He doesn’t reply. “I’ll see you Saturday,” he says. “I... take care.”
I… what? I release the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Take care,” I reply softly.
WE talk again before I go to bed, and the next day on my way to work, then again at lunchtime. After work, Laurie and I arrive early at Chelsea’s place. She instructed us not to bother with hair and makeup, so when Rafael drops us at her Upper East Side apartment, we’re still dressed casually.
A doorman lets us in from the street, then the reception checks to make sure that our names are on the visitor’s list before directing us to an elevator.
“We should have let the parents pay for a place for us when they first offered,” Laurie says in the elevator. “We could be living like this.”
“Like, seriously,” I agree, looking around the mirrored interior of the elevator. Our parents had tried to get us a place, but we’d been determined to be independent. They’d still paid the lease on our apartment, but it was closer to something Laurie and I could actually afford on our income, without depending on them, or the money that somehow became ours when our dads’ sold a percentage of their business.
Chelsea’s apartment is one of four on her floor. It isn’t huge, but it’s obviously expensive and professionally decorated. “Oh, you guys!” She exclaims, hugging Laurie and giving me one hurried air kiss. She has curlers in her hair and her nails are drying. “Come and get prettied up.”
There are two stylists. Twins. Hector and Caesar, and they are hilarious. Hector’s eyelash extensions are longer than anyone, male or female has a right to wear, and Caesar’s leather pants are so tight, it’s a wonder that he can walk at all. They’re from Bergdorf Goodman, so they know all the best gossip and they keep it coming while they tweeze our brows, give us manicures and fix our hair and makeup.
About two hours later, already in a good mood from the delicious chocolate liqueur Chelsea was very generous with, we troop downstairs, where Rafael is waiting in a classic black limo.
“I look like I need a pro footballer on my arm,” Laurie says, catching her reflection in the tinted window glass. “What do you think?”
“Yup,” I agree. She does look spectacular in a short black dress with studded platform heels. “They’d be lucky to be there.”
“Awww,” She smiles. “You’re so wonderful.”
Chelsea rolls her eyes and slides inside the car, scooting to the far side. “Come on girls. Let’s go. Tonight we’re partying like rock stars.”
The club we go to is called Felony. According to Chelsea, it’s the newest and hottest in town. Once there, even though there’s a queue as long as two blocks, she walks straight to the door, where the bouncer unclips the rope and lets us in.
Inside, the lights are dim, and the beat is strong enough to make my bones vibrate. The song playing is a very popular hip-hop jam, and my jaw almost drops when I see that the singer, a hip-hop phenomenon, is actually performing it on a raised stage.
“Cool, right?” A blue strobe light hits Chelsea’s face, showing her broad grin.
I have to scream over the music. “Hell yes!”
“Come on,” she grabs my hand. “The bar’s over there.”
We order shots and down two each. The burning sensation shoots straight from my throat and stomach to my head. Beside me, Laurie is nodding her head to the music.
“I need another drink, then I’m hitting the floor,” she looks at me. “Game?”
I nod. “Of course.”
We order two more shots. Chelsea is being chatted up by a sexy guy with a heavily-muscled chest showed off in a tight t-shirt. He looks vaguely familiar, then I realize that I’ve seen him on TV, in a popular sitcom. I look around, wondering how many famous people are among the gyrating bodies on the dance floor.
I’m about to tell Laurie I’m ready to dance when strong arms encircle me from behind. Spinning around, I come face to face with Chadwick Black.
“Chadwick!” I return his hug. “What’re you doing here?”
“What are you doing here?” He throws back. I haven’t seen him since the day I ran into him at the office, and I had no idea he was still in town. “You look fabulous,” he says, looking me over. “Absolutely delicious.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you stalking me now?”
He grins. “Maybe. Where’s your delightful cousin?”
“Hah!” I laugh, wagging a finger in his face. “Like I’m going to tell you.”
Laurie has been talking to Chelsea, she chooses that moment to turn back towards me. She sees Chadwick and her face lights up with a delighted smile. “Hi, Chadwick Black.”
He turns towards her. “Hi,” he drawls, before turning back to give me a triumphant grin. “You and I are going to dance all night.”
She gives him a coy smile. “Can you keep up?”
“Try me.”
She shrugs. “Maybe later. I’m dancing with Rachel.”
“Please go on,” I tell her, sure she’ll have more fun dancing with Chad. “I’ll just have another drink.”
She gives me a questioning glance, then follows Chad, who looks grateful. I watch them disappear into the crowd on the dance floor. Chelsea ditches her sitcom actor and joins me. Two cute guys offer to buy us drinks and we let them, then we abandon them at the bar to join Laurie and Chadwick on the floor. We start out dancing together, but I soon find myself dancing with some guy, then a girl with startling blue hair and a lip piercing, then another guy. The music stays good and I hardly notice as time flies.
I return to the bar after a while. Some time later, Laurie comes to join me, her eyes are bright, and there’s a slight sheen on her skin from all the dancing. “What’s up?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Where’s Chad?”
“Bathroom.” She props her hip on a stool. “He’s cool.”
“He’s still a whore,” I whisper, wrinkling my nose.
She laughs. “He’s leaving for a party at the Insomnia Lounge. Wants to know if we’ll come.”
I raise my brows and she shrugs. The Insomnia is Landon’s club, and she knows. Of course, I want to go there. I smile, remembering the last time, Landon appearing like a figure out of my fantasies, hypnotizing me with his eyes and his touch, until I would gladly have followed him anywhere. He’d been playing a game that night, trying to see if I would confess that I wasn’t the hooker I’d made him think I was.
“I’ll ask Chelsea,” I tell Laurie now.
Chelsea is eager to go, and we pile into the limo for the drive to the Insomnia Lounge. The line there is even longer, and this time, we don’t have a pass, but Chadwick’s host has left his name at the door, and we get to saunter in like VIPs again.
The music is alive. There are dancers hanging from the ceiling doing impossible acrobatics, and on the dance floor, people are moving to the sexy music. The party Chadwick came to join is taking place in a private glass-walled room beyond the VIP area. It’s an eclectic mix of people, a famous rock musician, two NBA players, a writer for the New York times, a ballerina, an actor, and another photographer. I recognize some of Chadwick’s artists friends and a couple of groupies of the hot female variety.
Everybody seems happy to see Chadwick, and we join the party seamlessly. The focus of the group appears to be the rock musician who’s celebrating something I don’t quite hear. Chelsea starts to flirt with him and he looks like he can’t believe his luck.
Drinks are flowing, and Laurie and Chadwick are still engrossed in each
other enough to make me worry for Brett. A guy seated beside me starts a conversation. He’s a sports lawyer, very confident too. He starts telling me about all the high-profile players he represents and I’m actually relieved when he excuses himself to go to the bathroom.
A few moments later, someone else takes his seat.
“Hi Rachel,” the new arrival says, in a familiar voice that makes me jump in surprise.
“Jack!” I breathe, surprised to see him.
“Yup.” His eyes flick over my body. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks,” I reply. “You look good too.” He does look good. His hair is tousled, and he’s slowing joining the beard gang, sporting a small overgrowth, while his expensive sweater and slim-fitted jeans make him look casual and cool.
He nods, and looks around the room, before looking back at me. “You know Jem?”
He’s talking about the rocker. I shake my head. “No. I was out with Chelsea and Laurie and kinda ended up here.”
“Ah!” he chuckles. He holds my gaze for a long moment before I look away, remembering our last awkward conversation. “So, where’s the boyfriend?” I hear him ask.
“He’s in San Francisco,” I reply.
“For the big opening,” Jack says. “Why aren’t you with him? I was already getting used to seeing the photographs of you on his arm.”
It’s not like him to be snide, and I search his face, a frown on mine. He doesn’t look as if he knows that he’s being rude. “I didn’t realize you’d started reading gossip blogs,” I respond. “But don’t give up on the photographs just yet. I’m joining him tomorrow.”
“Whoa,” he laughs, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Don’t be so combative. I just asked a question.” When I don’t reply, he sighs. “You’ve changed, Rachel.”
I give him a short laugh. “I sure hope so.”
A new song starts to play. I watch as Chelsea pulls the rocker to his feet and they start dancing.
“Wanna dance?” Jack asks.
I shake my head. “I’ve danced enough for one night.”
