Leelyn nearly rises from her seat in excitement. “You should have seen Raphaël. He was furious. It was delicious!”
Amber laughs so hard she has to wipe tears from her eyes. Nora looks at me with an expression so full of shock that it makes me smile in genuine fondness.
“I’m sorry. Is that considered desecration?” I ask her.
“No. It’s a fountain, not a grave.” Her face slowly splits into a smile. “Wow. My brother really had no idea what he was getting himself into with you, did he?”
It’s the closest she’s gotten to accidentally spilling the truth in front of our audience, but I can’t seem to find it in me to care. I shake my head instead. “I don’t think so, no.”
We play games, but thankfully I don’t have to answer any questions about Rafe. I’d fail most of them if I had to. Eventually, Leelyn reaches into a giant bag she brought.
“We have something for you,” she tells me, and sets a glossy burgundy box on the table. I open it slowly, to the delighted cheers of the guests.
It’s a lingerie set.
It’s deep red and luxuriously lacy. Theyoohandahhwhen I lift out the matching bra and the thong. Beneath them is a red robe with lace cuffs. There’s a pair of knee-high stockings too, complete with garters.
“This is beautiful,” Nora says. “Is the robe silk?”
“Of course it is,chérie,” Sylvie says. “We’ll get you a set for your wedding as well.”
Nora gives the older woman a smile. Of course. They’veknown each other for years. The Montclairs and their designers.
“You should put it on,” Amber calls from across the table.
“Yes, yes, you must!”
I look around the table, at the fascinating, diverse group of women here tonight. The languages and the glamour, the Aperol spritzes and the glittering pool. And the drinking games that transcend all of that.
I love the taste of debauchery in the air.
“Put it on, put it on!”
I clutch the box to my chest. “Your demands have been heard. I’ll give it a whirl.”
The girls cheer as I walk toward the house. The French doors are open and I head into one of the downstairs bathrooms. From upstairs I can hear loud music playing where Rafe and his friends have kicked things off.
It doesn’t sound like Bach.
His friends are terrifying too, in their way. I looked them up online earlier. One of them is a duke. A duke! I never thought I’d meet one. He seems the most reserved of them all, with blond hair and icy eyes.
Alex is the opposite. Broad smiles, auburn hair, and a Scottish accent. My little internet search told me he owns and runs a big whiskey company. He seems easy to get along with.
West too, to a certain extent. He’s polite and handsome, with a last name I recognized immediately. His is a legendary American family.
Of course the members of Rafe’s closest circle are all as impressive as him.
In the bathroom, I slip out of my white dress and put on the delicate lace and long stockings. It’s shockingly beautiful craftsmanship. I’ve never worn anything so fine. I pull on the robe, and it falls around me like a cape.
In the mirror, I look like someone else. I’ve never wornfancy lingerie. I’m a cotton thong and t-shirt bra kind of girl. Sportswear and boat shoes.
But it fits well, and it looks…
Decadent.
Indecent.
I head out of the bathroom and walk through the living room, my fingers tapping along to the music.
