Chapter 78
1157words
I snorted under my breath, flashing back to a showdown over a lobster tank. A hang-gliding incident involving powerlines in Bolivia. An unfortunate run-in with a renegade swan.
'You've got that right."
And speak of the devil...
My phone buzzed away in my pocket, and I hastened to dig through the designer threads draping me to respond. No less than six women scolded me in various languages as I did so, but in the end, I came up triumphant—giving each one of them a winning smirk before peering down at the screen. Sure enough, it was Nicholas.
You get my presents? Told you, I like to spoil.
I shook my head with a little grin and held the phone closer to my chest, shielding the conversation from anyone who might be looking in.
You call this spoiling? I'm covered head to toe in wax, a woman I don't know is rubbing some sort of paste into my scalp, and I'm nursing a chemical burn from a woman named Helga.
There was a brief pause, followed by:
Please send photographic evidence at once.
I choked back a laugh, then had a miniature tug-of-war with a fierce-looking woman who was trying to claim my hand. In the end, I surrendered it—typing with my other.
Lol. Next time you want to spoil, try sending chocolates. Not the 23rd Battalion.
Another pause. I could picture him grinning down at the screen. Sipping his morning cup of coffee from out on the balcony as he gazed out over the entire city. Completely oblivious to the girlish hell that had settled over my little apartment.
You like chocolates?
I perked up with dread at the smell of fresh wax and quickly angled my body in the opposite direction, tucking my other leg up beneath me for safe keeping.
Everyone likes chocolates.
There was a miniature scuffle as someone grabbed my other leg—the one that had gone into hiding—and began mummy-taping it over with hot wax. I braced against the arm-rests of my chair, preparing for the worst. And just as the strip pulled away from my leg, a high-pitched yelp burst through my lips.
The price of beauty...
Thirty minutes passed when I received another text from Nicholas.
Get the door...
Knock. Knock.
I looked up with sudden curiosity just as Stacy answered the door. The doorman handed her a medium-sized box and she thanked him.
She glanced over at me. 'Hey! You got a present! Truffles."
'I did?"
'Aw, it came with a card and everything." She flipped it open, oblivious to the laws of privacy, and started reading the message meant for me. 'Wow—this is some pretty adorable stuff. It's even written in Nicholas's own hand."
I twisted free of the women holding me, and held out my hand.
'Please give me that!"
She did so. Only after removing a chocolate for herself.
The card was on simple stationary stock. But yes, it looked like it had been written by Nicholas himself. I marveled at this silently—baffled by the perfectly timed delivery with his texts.
‘Truffles for the woman who never fails to take my breath away.
Hoping they'll butter you up for a little surprise I have for this evening.
Also hoping you'll wear a certain dress...'
- Nicholas
'What dress is he talking about?" Stacy asked, her mouth full of chocolate.
I opened up the box and peeked inside, completely unsurprised at this point, to see that it was a compilation of all my favorites. The corners of my lips curled up into a secret smile as I reached down to extract a piece of caramel—popping it into my mouth.
'I don't know," I answered evasively.
She nodded and returned to her coffee, while I chewed on the caramel with a secret grin.
Truth be told, I happened to know exactly what dress Nicholas was talking about. It happened to be sitting in a Dior bag underneath my bed. The same bag I hadn't touched since the day the two of us went shopping.
Before I discovered Elisia and ruined the whole thing.
Before he dumped Elisia and replaced her with me.
'So when exactly did this whole thing with you and Nicholas happen?" Stacy asked, waving the others away, as she looped my dark hair around a curling iron. 'I'm assuming it's some last-ditch publicity effort to replace that model from Oklahoma."
The smile faded from my face as I nodded quickly.
'Yeah it's...it's just a convenience, you know?" I closed the lid of the truffles quickly and settled back in my chair. 'He still needs a steady ‘relationship' for the next three months."
Stacy chuckled under her breath, snapping her fingers for a sparkling water.
'Talk about dedication to your job. I hope you're getting paid overtime for this."
There was nothing wrong with what she was saying. Knowing Nicholas, her wry sense of humor was perfectly justified. And yet, I couldn't help but chafe against the words.
'It's no big deal," I said defensively, trying to keep my voice light as a woman popped up out of nowhere and began painting the nails on my other hand. 'Nicholas and I have known each other for a long time. If he needs a favor—I'm more than willing to help."
'Yeah—but you kissed him," Stacy countered. 'And it was a very Oscar-worthy performance."
I paused a beat.
'What can I say? I'm a very good actress."
'But you kissed your boss."
'So? It's just a crazy day's work. Do you know how many stunts I've had to put up with? It's the price of working for Nicholas."
She snorted, wrapping another lock of hair around the iron. 'So...you of all people should know how many places that mouth has been."
The defensiveness fell away, and it was my turn to laugh.
'Oh—coming from you!" I shook my head, earning a slap on the wrist from the manicurist trying to get me to hold still. 'The woman who slept with half Greenwich Village."
She chuckled as well.
'But it's not the same thing. It's not about how many people he's slept with—it's about the fundamental way he approaches relationships." She caught my eye in the mirror, studying me appraisingly. 'Nicholas doesn't date with any intention of a future. The man lives in the moment. In the seven years that I've known him, I've yet to see him take anyone or anything seriously. His last name sums him up perfectly...HUNTINGTON. He's a Huntington."
My mouth opened, but for one of the first times, I could think of nothing to say.
She was right. Absolutely right. Nicholas was a notorious bachelor. He had an international reputation for goodness sake. It didn't matter whether he'd signed the chocolate card himself, it would be a cold day in hell before Nicholas Huntington found someone who could hold onto him.
'Good thing it's just a fake relationship, then," I said.
