It takes me a few seconds to focus on the person standing in front of me. A tall woman who’s looking back into the room, showing me only a mane of black hair. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s room service,” she says, then turns to face me. Her mouth forms an “O” of surprise before her lips spread in a vicious smile.
“Blair, what an unexpected visit,” Aurora Vanderbilt says.
Not her.
Everything within me breaks. I blink back tears of rage and frustration, but there’s no fighting the angry blush that spreads across my face. The shock and misery must show along with the rash because Aurora’s smile widens.
“Did you need something?” she asks in a honeyed tone.
“N-no… just work stuff… n-nothing important…”
I’m still blabbing nonsense when Richard appears on the threshold. Jacket off. Bow tie gone. Shirt invitingly open at the neck. Sexy as hell. Our eyes meet and a bolt of shame strikes me.
“Blair!” His eyebrows raise. “What are you doing here?”
I can’t hide my disappointment, so I look away. Either he’s a better actor than Christian Slade, or the electricity of the night was all inside my head. It wasn’t all inside my head.
“N-nothing.” I flutter my hands in the air. “It can wait until tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” Now his expression is closer to pity.
Mercifully, at that moment a server pushing a cart stops next to me and asks, “Is the champagne for this room?”
“Yes,” Aurora says, opening the door wider.
The waiter pushes the cart inside and I seize the opportunity to escape. “I’ll leave you to your… uh… thing.” Why can’t I stop my hands from fluttering? “Good night.”
I don’t wait for a reply. All I can say for myself is that I manage not to run. I retrace my steps to my room, insert the card in its slot with trembling hands, and rush inside. Resting my back against the door, I take a few deep breaths that quickly turn into heavy sobs.
How could I be so stupid? How could I misread the signals so badly?
I thought Richard and I had shared a moment, but clearly, all the boss cares about is sharing a bed with Aurora Vanderbilt. But I’m not crazy. Sparks happened, and it must’ve scared the boss so much he wanted to kill this new connection in cold blood.
Maybe.
No matter how much I try to rationalize Richard’s behavior, it still sucks. And no justification will change the fact that he’s spending the night in a hotel room with Aurora Vanderbilt. True, I’m not his girlfriend so it’s not like he’s cheating on me.
Feels that way all the same.
A glob of bile rises to my throat. I might throw up. In the bathroom, I splash my face with fresh water, not caring that it’ll send the makeup streaming down my cheeks. I dry my hands and unzip the dress on my own. So much for the sexy fantasies. When the gown reaches the ground, I kick it away from my legs, abandoning it in a puddle on the bathroom floor. Back in the main room, I fling myself onto the bed and cry into a pillow until I fall asleep.
***
I wake up early after a restless night spent tossing and turning over nightmares of Aurora and Richard rolling in bed. A mix of all the fantasies I’ve had about Richard played before my eyes. Only the woman in the dream—nightmare—wasn’t me.
I throw the blankets away, and after carefully washing my face, I launch myself into my running ritual. Energizing playlist, on. Fit watch, on. I-can-run-my-sorrow-to-death plan, so on.
This time I choose the running path heading south, and it doesn’t take me long to reach the Venice boardwalk. With only surfers braving the waters, the beach is almost deserted this early in the morning. The quietness helps calm my nerves. So do the exercise endorphins.
I kick my shoes off and abandon the concrete trail. The sand is cool under my feet, a nice sensation after a long run. I choose a spot on a small dune to sit and stare at the ocean and the surfers paddling on the water. They seem so free and careless as they ride the waves.
When the sun starts burning my skin, I head back to the hotel. Unfortunately, the jog hasn’t cleared my head as much as I’d hoped. And nothing can change the fact that I have to spend six hours stuck on a plane next to Richard.
The boss doesn’t know why you knocked on his door last night.
Maybe not. Aurora might’ve guessed, but no one knows for sure. What if Richard asks me point-blank? A resolution forms in my heart. If asked, I’ll lie through my teeth.
Hoping to work my body to exhaustion so that I’ll sleep on the plane and avoid unpleasant conversation, I take the stairs up to the eleventh floor. When I get there, I’m positively puffing.
To my horror, as soon as I push the stairs door open, I spot Aurora and Richard embracing in the hallway. I freeze. My room is past theirs. I consider running away, but Aurora catches me out of the corner of her eye and presses herself even closer to Richard in a goodbye kiss.
The kiss seems to last forever, but eventually, the leech releases her sucker. Aurora walks toward the elevator, waving at me with a nasty grin on her face. That’s when Richard spots me.
No escape, then. The only way is forward.
“Morning,” Richard says, as I pass him.
I ignore him and carry on along the corridor, walking on tiptoes. Richard has never seen me at my real, non-heeled shortness.
He follows me. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
“Morning.”
“Would you please stop for a second?”
“Why?”
“Did you want to discuss something last night?”
“I wanted to pick your brain on some creative ideas…” I say, not looking at him and trying to fit the key in its slot. My hands are shaking so badly it’s difficult.
“What ideas?”
I give up the fighting and spin around to face the boss. “It doesn’t matter. I sorted everything out on my own.”
“I’d like to hear those ideas all the same.”
“I thought you didn’t micromanage.”
“Why are you being so snippy?”
The nerve of him to ask.
“I’m not. I’m sweaty and what I’d like to do is go take a shower. Last night, I wanted to discuss ideas, but you seemed more interested in trolloping. And I don’t want to talk about it now.”
Richard scowls. “Aurora isn’t a whore.”
“I wasn’t talking about dear Aurora.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. He’ll catch me now, see right through me. The boss will know this is all my jealousy talking.
“Judging again, are we?” Richard’s voice rises. “I’m an adult and single. I can do whatever I please.”
Thank you, boss, for showing all the limitations of your male brain.
“Of course you can.”
“And you can stop your self-righteous tantrum and bring that prissy ass of yours back to earth.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you think this is me judging your lifestyle then you’re such a brazen idiot, I feel sorry for you.” And then I add what I’ve really been burning to say. “Or you’re playing dumb, which is even worse!”
Working behind my back, I give the key another try and finally manage to slide it into the slot. In a swift move, I free the lock, enter the room, and slam the door right in his idiotic, arrogant—stupidly handsome—face.
Richard pounds his fists on the wood almost immediately. “What’s that supposed to mean? Hey, open this door.”
I unstrap my iPod from the belt on my arm and plug it into the dock station sitting on the nightstand. “Sorry, I can’t hear you,” I shout. And to make sure my statement is true, I blast the speakers until I can’t actually hear the pounding anymore.
With a nod of satisfaction, I shed my sweaty clothes to the floor and hop into the shower.
***
“If you keep staring at that window like that, it’ll melt,” Richard says.
I scoff, shrug, and do not turn my head. I keep my arms crossed over my chest and my gaze focused on the clouds out of the plane’s window.
“So you’re going to pretend I don’t exist for the next six hours?”
Finally, I turn. “How could you sleep with Aurora?” I hiss.
Richard raises both eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“Of all people, why her?”
“Why not? Aurora is very attractive… a lot of fun.”
Which I’m not, I suppose. Oh, why did I ask? His words are like daggers to the heart. Richard wants to keep pretending I’ve no reason to be upset?
Let’s pretend along.
“She also stands for everything you hate,” I point out, trying to move the conversation away from my obvious, blinding jealousy.
“What do you mean?”
“Aurora never had to work a day in her life for what she has. Mommy fed it all to her with a silver spoon.”
“Oh, so that’s where the drama comes from. You’re jealous because she beat you for the editor position at Évoque.”
Oh, Richard, if only you knew work is not an envy trigger here. Still, better than you knowing the truth.
“Aurora didn’t beat me, she cheated. Her mother bought the position for her.”
“So she’s from a rich, privileged family and she takes advantage. Wouldn’t you do the same?”
“Not if my family actually stole money by not paying taxes. How dare they show their faces at a fund-raising? They must enjoy pretending to be generous to the community while they’re ripping everyone off instead. All that extra cash has to go somewhere… right?”
Richard chastises me with a reproachful expression. “That’s a very serious accusation to make.”
“Not an accusation, a fact.”
“You’ve proof?”
“There were rumors at Évoque about a story on Rebecca Vanderbilt that got killed before publication.”
“Are we talking office gossip or real facts?”
“A rumor like that wouldn’t spread for no reason.”
“Why would the magazine kill the story?”
“Too serious for our type of publication and Maison Vanderbilt is a big cross-magazine advertiser at Northwestern. Even more now after they had to shop for Aurora’s promotion.”
“Is the reporter who had the lead interested in selling it elsewhere?”
“She can’t freelance while working at Évoque. Why? I don’t see you running a story about dear Aurora’s mommy.”
“If Rebecca Vanderbilt is cooking her books, you’re damn right I want to run the story.”
I finally relax my pout. “Are you serious?”
“Bring me proof and I’ll publish the article.”
“How am I supposed to prove anything? I’m not a reporter. I never did investigative journalism, I wouldn’t know where to start. And finance isn’t my strong suit.”
“But you’re smart, bet you can figure a way.”
“For real? You’re not just saying this?”
“If you can get the evidence, the story is a go.”
“Deal.”
We shake hands, and I regret the physical contact immediately. Richard holds my hand, and my gaze, a second longer than necessary, and I can’t help but enjoy the sensation.
Arrrgh, this man will be the death of me.
***
That night I’m brooding in solitude on the couch when the apartment door opens and Nikki walks in with Chevron in tow.
“Hey, you’re back.” My roomie smiles. “How was Hollywood?”
“A disaster.”
“That good, huh?”
“Imagine the worst thing that ever happened to you. It was worse.”
Nikki releases Chevron’s leash and they sit down and jump, respectively, onto the cushions next to me. “Better or worse than Bridget Jones going to the house party in the bunny costume?”
“Worse: I was humiliated.”
“Better or worse than when Ross said ‘we were on a break’?”
“Worse.”
“Better or worse than when Jon Snow died on Game of Thrones?”
“Nothing could ever be worse than Jon Snow dying,” I hiss.
“See? Then there’s hope.” She pats my knee. “Tell me what happened.”
I do.
“Ah, well.” Nikki sighs. “I’d still swap lives.”
I make big eyes at her. “Why?”
“At least you went out and met Christian Slade. I’m married to my job and in love with my sister’s boyfriend… So…”
“What a pair!”
Pale as hell and with blue bags under her eyes, Nikki does look even more downcast than me.
“What happened to you?” I ask.
Nikki stares ahead, unfocused. “I bumped into Paul.”
“Was he alone?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“We had coffee.”
“And?”
“He was nice and polite as you should be with your girlfriend’s sister. Every time I see him, them… I die a little inside.”
“And Julia still has no idea?”
Nikki massages her temples and shrugs. “Sometimes I think it was obvious something was happening with Paul when she swept in and stole him. Other times I think I’m so damn introverted that maybe it was obvious only to me, and neither Julia nor Paul have any idea how I felt.”
“So the ‘time cures all ills’ motto doesn’t really work?”
“I’m afraid not. I’ve spent the last two years hoping my sister’s love life will crumble to pieces. What does that say about me?”
“That we can be spinsters together, all three of us.”
“Woof.”
Nikki shakes her head. “At least someone’s excited at the prospective.” She pats Chevron. “No, seriously, there’s no hope for me, but what’s your next move?”
I stare out the window at Manhattan’s lights. “Grind Aurora into the ground and bring the whole Vanderbilt fashion empire down with her and her witch of a mother.”
“You know Aurora Vanderbilt isn’t the real problem, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“It could’ve been anyone else in Richard’s room. It would’ve hurt just as much.”
“No, it wouldn’t.”
“Okay, you hate Aurora so it stung more. Fact remains, the real issue is that you have a crush on your boss and he doesn’t reciprocate.”
“That’s not it.”
“What then?”
Hours spent analyzing the weekend showed a clear pattern in Richard’s behavior. Whenever we got closer or personal, Richard had a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde change of personality. Face changing from open and warm to that tough mask he always wears. The boss works hard at keeping his distance… Aurora Vanderbilt being the ultimate space-keeper.
“I’m almost sure Richard reciprocates on some level…” I tell Nikki about the dinner, our day in LA, and the way he danced with me. “But he’s doing everything he can to fight his feelings.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s scared it could get serious.”
“He’s your boss. It’s natural he’d have reservations.”
“That’s not it. Richard’s scared of commitment after his incident at the altar.”
“And you want a guy like that… why, exactly?”
“Look at it this way: Gerard ticked off all the right boyfriend boxes, and he was a disaster. A perfect match on paper, a cheating scum in real life. Richard may seem like the wrong guy for so many reasons, but he’s not for the most important one.”
“Which is?”
“The way my pulse quickens whenever I’m next to him, or the drop in my stomach I get just thinking about him.”
“So you have a crush, it won’t last forever. The beating heart, the stomach dives… they all disappear, eventually. You’ll get used to him and get over it.”
I look away, afraid to meet Nikki’s eye.
“What is it?” she asks.
“This is more than a silly crush.”
“What? You’re in love with him now?”
I shake my head. “In love is too much. But it’s something more than a crush.”
“But you’ve never even kissed him.”
I stare my roommate down. “Have you ever kissed Paul?”
Nikki blushes. “Fair enough. So, what are you going to do?”
“If Richard wants to play games, I’ll play right along with him.”