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 packed with something and labeled with code I don’t even attempt to decipher. Veronica navigates it like she knows the location of every scarf and belt, unearthing 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 in. “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 picture won’t end up somewhere that ‘matters’—not that I really care. I have other things on my mind. Landon is already in San Francisco, probably caught in the whirl of final preparations and meetings, and somewhere in the same city is 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 exaggerated, I tell myself. Maybe it was his imagination that Landon used his sister to get the Gold Dust. Maybe Landon and Ava were just friends and business partners. Maybe they were never 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 to 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 is a quality Landon looks 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, and 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 receptionist 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. Our parents tried to get us a place, but we were determined to be independent. They 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, Hector and Caesar. They’re twins, 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 he can walk at all. They’re from Bergdorf Goodman, so they know all the best gossip and 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, and I realize 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?”
“Ha!” I laugh, wagging a finger in his face. “Like I’m going to tell you.”
Laurie has been talking to Chelsea, and she chooses that moment to turn back toward me. She sees Chadwick and her face lights up with a delighted smile. “Hi, Chadwick Black.”
“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, and 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, and 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 was 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.
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, including 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 really does. 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.”
We’re both silent after that, but I’m aware of him beside me. I wonder what he’s thinking, and if he still believes that Landon doesn’t deserve me. I feel his eyes on me, and I turn toward him. He has a sad and thoughtful expression on his face.
“What?” I ask gently, unnerved by the depth of emotions in his eyes.
He keeps looking at me, his eyes searching my face. “Are you happy?” he asks finally.
There is a false sense of intimacy created by how close we’re sitting, by the familiarity of his features, by the knowledge that he knows me better than most people. For a moment, I’m tempted to open up to him, to tell him my fears about Landon, but I hold back, choosing not to respond to the question. Am I happy? Yes, when I’m with Landon. When I don’t have to think of anything else but the fact that he’s with me, I’m content, but when I allow myself to think of what we are, of where we’re going…
Jack is watching my face, as if he’s reading my emotions on my features. I look away from his searching eyes, and at that moment, a couple enters the room. The man is the sports lawyer who was flirting with me earlier. The woman looks slightly older, with straightened blonde hair and a nice figure. She waves at Jack then comes over to say hi, leaving her companion to find them seats.
“Sweetheart,” she coos, kissing his cheeks.
“This is Cecily,” he tells me after their greeting. “Cecily, Rachel.”
The woman peers at me as if I look familiar to her. “Hello,” she says.
“You two have Landon Court in common,” Jack says. He lounges back on his seat. “Cecily lasted about three months, am I right?”
Cecily’s face clouds then she shrugs before giving me a speculative look. “You’re the new girlfriend,” she says. “I thought I’d seen your face somewhere.” Her companion signals to her from across the room and she starts to leave, but then turns back to me. “Word of advice? Don’t ask him about the future.”
She’s gone before I say what’s on the tip of my tongue—that I don’t need her advice.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss at Jack. “You’re parading Landon’s exes just to prove something to me?”
“The opportunity presented itself,” he says with a shrug at my annoyed expression. “I care about you, Rachel.”
“Oh please!” I toss at him, getting up. “I’m obviously not the only one who’s changed, Jack. I don’t remember you being this much of an asshole.” I stalk out of the room, heading downstairs to the bathroom. I waste time in there, reapplying my lip gloss and staring at my reflection in the mirror.
Don’t ask him about the future.
He’s been fucking her for years.
I’m trying, really trying not to entertain my fears about my relationship with Landon. I’m trying to exist contentedly in the knowledge that at least he wants to be with me too, that for now at least, he needs me as much as I need him.
But it’s so hard when every minute something comes up to remind me of the heartache that is surely going to be part of my future with him.
I try to dismiss Jack and his friend, try to shrug off what she said, and then I see Ava Sinclair’s face in my head. She’s in San Francisco right now, with him. I close my eyes as insane possibilities assault my mind, until it feels like I can’t breathe.
My phone is in my purse. I retrieve it and type her name in the search panel. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, but my greatest dread is that I’ll find something to confirm my fears.
The first result is a news article from yesterday evening. I click on it. “The brightest and the most beautiful!” the headline screams, then there’s a picture of Landon walking out of a building with Ava Sinclair.
He may be taking over the hotel that has been in her family for generations, but it seems that it’s Ava Sinclair who has billionaire Landon Court wrapped around her little finger. The twice-divorced socialite was spotted with the hotelier at the Fairmont Royal in San Francisco after enjoying a cozy dinner. Sources say they have a passionate history. Is this old romance being rekindled?
I study the picture, trying to read everything about their body language and the self-satisfied smirk on her face. It doesn’t help that she looks exquisite even in a candid picture.
He’s been fucking her for years.
What is she to Landon exactly? Why is he spending so much time with her?
I type a quick text to Rafael letting him know I’m ready to leave. Then I send one to Laurie, telling her I have a headache and Rafael will be back to pick up her and Chelsea whenever they’re ready to go home. There’s a crush of people on the way to the exit, and I push past them, willing myself to stop thinking.
You decided to be with him for as long as you could, I tell myself. Don’t overthink anything.
I repeat it as a mantra in my head until I make it outside. There’s still a line of people trying to get in, and I can’t see Rafael yet. As I wait, I search my mind for all the reassuring things Landon has ever said to me, everything that makes me sure, deep down, that we have something that’s more than just sex.
Then I see Ava Sinclair’s smirk, and I forget how to think.
“Rachel.”
Jack is walking up to me. He looks as if he ran out after me, but I don’t care what he wants. I blame him for ruining my evening, and my peace of mind.
“What?” I hiss at him. “What do you want?”
He sighs. “I’m sorry about back there. I just wanted to show you what kind of man—”
“Oh fuck you, Jack!” I say it loud enough that a few people turn to look at us. “You can’t stand to lose your favorite toy, is that it? You can’t stand that I’ve moved on? For God’s sake, Jack! Get over it.”
“I can’t.” He closes the distance between us, and there’s an intensity in his eyes I never saw there in all the time we were together. “I can’t. Rachel, I…I love you okay? I’m in love with you.”
I close my eyes, all the anger slowly draining out of me, replaced by confusion and sadness. My first thought is of everything I would give to have Landon be the one standing in front of me and saying those words.
Maybe Jack takes my silence as capitulation because he steps forward and takes my face in his hands, kissing me with something that feels like desperation.
It only lasts for a few seconds. I push away from him just as I see Rafael parking the limo and stepping out, his eyes on Jack.
“Are you all right?” he asks me, rushing over to insert himself between me and Jack.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I spare a glance at Jack, hoping that the displeasure in my eyes is enough to communicate that there is never going to be another chance for him, and then I follow Rafael to the waiting car.