Before I can get up the nerve to ask him what he means, he says, “I promised to meet up with Austin Cole before pre-dinner drinks on the patio. He worked with me onThe Familyand wants to catch up. But give me a call when you’re ready. I can come back and escort you down.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I can figure out how to get downstairs without getting lost.”I hope.
“If that’s what you want. I’ll see you down there. And, Emma?”
“Yes?”
“I can’t wait.” Then a click as the door to the hall opens and shuts.
And once again, it’s just me and the confused whirl of my thoughts.
CHAPTER 30
Emma
Apparently, “more”means jewelry. When I finally emerge from the bath, I shrug into an oversized fluffy robe. There’s a note in his sprawling handwriting explaining that he’ll meet me downstairs for drinks when I’m ready and that he hopes I like his gift. I gasp when I open the Harry Winston blue box to find a shockingly large sapphire pendant on a delicate gold chain. The gemstone is so big, I’d assume it were costume jewelry if it weren’t for the box.
“More” also means, as promised, racks of clothes, shoes, bags, sunglasses, and countless accessories that must have been rushed over from several of the best boutiques in Napa and delivered to our room. An entire designer wardrobe is now at my disposal. Cocktail dresses, swimsuits, resort wear, lingerie, even loungewear and formal gowns, each piece more exquisite than the next. As I flip through the racks, my eyes widen as I recognize the names. There’s Chanel, Dior, Prada, Jacquemus, The Row, and more.
I have no idea how Sebastian and Matt arranged it all so quickly. I’m not sure evenIcould have. I have to hand it to him; he really does know how to fix a mix-up.
I sink into the seat at the vanity, put on the necklace, and touch it reverently. Like my ring, it shines back at me.
I’ve never seen something so beautiful.Seen.Not owned. Because I know this isn’t actually mine. Just as the ring isn’t. These are all part of some Cinderella-like fantasy. Once again, I’m making up for lost time by playing dress-up.
This make-believe may not be real, but I very much fear the stakes are. Because I worry just how much harder it will be when this is over and I have to get back to real life alone. Sebastian will be away, starring in a series of impressive indie prestige films. He’s worked his ass off for years to build up to this, to tick these directors off his top ten list. Soon, he’ll have achieved God-tier actor status, with a résumé anyone in Hollywood would envy—and, likely, with an Oscar to his name.
For once, I won’t be there, I think with a jolt of sadness. I’ll be at home, with my new business and my new life. Just as I wanted.
I dress quickly, put on makeup, and hurry downstairs, retracing our footsteps from earlier so I don’t get lost.
When I reach the first floor, a liveried servant directs me to the long patio that overlooks the vineyard.
I scan the throng of well-dressed guests for Sebastian.
“You’re radiant tonight.”
I turn to see Maricella approaching me, soft wrinkles bracketing her eyes as she smiles. She’s illuminated by golden-hour light that shines over the entire scene. The long patio, fields, and hills glow in the distance.
“Thank you,” I say, touched. “But you’re the stunning one. And so is this place. It’s magical.”
My gaze returns to seeking out my fake fiancé. I find him at the other end of the patio. He doesn’t notice me as he’s in deep discussion. He fits in with the sumptuous background and stylish guests—or as much as one of the most handsome men in the world can ever fit in. He’s wearing a long-sleeved button-up and a deep-blue blazer. Both are tailored just for his body, and you can tell.
“That’s quite a necklace.” Maricella nods to the pendant.
I tear my attention off my ex-boss. “Thank you,” I say and wonder if she played any part in having the jewels and clothes delivered to the house.
“That’s also quite a dress,” she adds, surprising me because she sounds almost envious.
I fidget and adjust the neckline, trying to shift it higher. “It’s, ah… It’s not my usual… style,” I admit in a rush.
“I was wearing something similar when I first caught my husband’s eye,” she says with a mischievous grin.
It was a crazy impulse—choosing to wear the red dress he packed instead of the little black Chanel sheath that had been couriered over. I normally suppress this side of me, suppress any reckless decision. I’ve spent a lifetime being measured, weighing every choice, trying to fit into the background of rooms. I work hard at looking just nice enough to fit in but not stand out. Being the predictable, sensible one.
But when I emerged from the bath and stared at the stunning clothing rack, that rarely indulged risky part roared to life. I couldn’t stop thinking of the red dress and Sebastian’s words.
I suddenly wanted to prove that I had other sides to me. I’m not sure who I wanted to prove it to more—Sebastian or myself.
