The Allure of Julian Lefray Page 12

  “Of course. How very...orthodox.”

  I wiped my sweaty palm on my pants before switching the phone to my other ear. Where the fuck was Julian?

  “Would you like me to connect you with your son? He actually just stepped out but I could have him call you back—”

  She didn’t let me finish.

  “Actually, don’t bother. This will work out better. I have a few things to discuss with him and it’s better if he can’t argue with my requests.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck as I worked out her words. “So you’d like me to take a message?”

  She took a deep breath as if trying to calm herself. “I’m confused. Are you not his assistant? Is this not in your job description? Perhaps he has you employed for different reasons?”

  Had she just implied that that I was Julian’s hired sex girl? Jesus. I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

  “Of course I can take a message, ma’am,” I replied with a honey-dipped tone. “Let me just grab my pen.” I’d be damned before I let her know she was winning.

  I scrambled to find a clean page in my notebook, but she didn’t wait. She rattled off details as I ripped pages away.

  “I have a fundraiser at the Four Seasons hotel at 8:00 PM Wednesday night. Since my son is back in New York City, I’ve arranged a date for him. Her name is Priscilla Kinkaid and I’m dear friends with her mother. I’d appreciate it if he would have his driver pick her up so that they may arrive together. It would be very rude to have her drive separately.”

  I stopped writing.

  “Priscilla Kinkaid?” I asked.

  Everyone with a computer and a half-decent internet connection knew who Priscilla Kinkaid was. She was this decade’s Paris Hilton, except without the sex tape and the tiny dog. She was all over the fashion world, and as a fashion blogger, I knew just how stylish and ungodly beautiful she was.

  Julian’s mother sighed. “Yes. Please pay attention. I haven’t got all day.”

  I stared down at my notepad.

  “Go ahead,” I muttered with a cold tone.

  “I’m going to email you the details and Priscilla’s address. I need you to convey to Julian that this event is of the utmost importance to me, especially with how ill his sister is right now.”

  Julian had revealed to me weeks ago that Lorena wasn’t actually staying in the hospital, that she was seeking treatment for something in rehab. Still, the way Mrs. Lefray spoke about her only daughter sent a chill down my spine.

  “Okay,” I replied before rattling off my email address for her. “You can send all the details to that address.”

  She jotted down my email address and I wondered if Julian would actually go through with something like this. Did he still let his mother boss him around like he was a child?

  “Could you also draft an email from Julian explaining how excited he is to escort Priscilla to the fundraiser? It doesn’t have to be long, but I’d like him to send her something.”

  My mouth dropped.

  “I can’t hack into his email account,” I argued.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied, as if offended that I would even assume that’s what she wanted. “You just need to draft it and then he will send it off himself.”

  Before I could offer a response, she continued. “Anyway, I’ve got to run, but I need you to get all of this done today.”

  I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I worked for all three Lefrays…

  The line went dead and I pulled the phone away from my face to stare down at it. Lying beside the receiver, on the front of my notepad, was a chicken-scratch list of things she’d just ordered me to do. Every item written there made my stomach churn in disgust. Not only did I have to ignore my feelings for Julian, I now had to actively set up his date with another woman? I wanted to shred the note into little pieces and flush it down the toilet. I wanted to delete the email his mother was undoubtedly drafting at that very moment, listing every detail about his hot date. I wanted to feign amnesia about the whole topic.

  I hadn’t yet decided what I would do about it by the time the hotel door opened and Julian stepped in. I was sitting on the couch with the list beside me and his mother’s email open on my laptop. I didn’t look up when he rounded the back of the couch, but I listened to the sound of his shoes hitting the hardwood floor and I picked up the scent of his spiced aftershave as soon as he stepped close.

  “Italian cream cake,” he said, holding out a clear plastic takeout box in front of my line of sight. “As a peace offering.”

  For two seconds, I couldn’t reply, too choked up with the weight of indecision. Why did his mother have to call when he was out? Why did I have to know just how gorgeous Priscilla was? Could she not have picked someone a little less easy on the eyes?

  “Jo? Are you still mad at me?”

  I blinked up at him, catching sight of his earnest eyes. I smiled and shook my head, too caught up in his sweet gesture to ignore him.

  I reached out for the cake and laughed. In the corner of the box, there was a little dollop of icing.

  “You got me extra icing?”

  He smiled. “You mentioned that you preferred it that way. I figured it wouldn’t be much of a peace offering without it.”

  He tucked his hands into his suit pockets and took a step back as I set the cake down on the table in front of me.

  God dammit, did he have to act like my perfect soul mate at this very moment? I held the name of his very hot, very single, very blonde date in my hands and he was bringing me cake.

  “What did I miss while I was gone?” he asked, unbuttoning his suit jacket and taking a seat on the couch across from me.

  The shredder was only a few feet away. I could just reach over and drop the notes right into…

  “Jo?”

  I sighed. The truth. I had to tell him the truth. “Your mom called.”

  His eyes widened. “Did you speak with her?”

  “No. I told her I’m not allowed to talk to strangers.”

  He looked truly horrified. “Seriously, what did she want?”

  I held out the sheet of notebook paper and watched his long fingers wrap around the edge and pull it away from me.

  “She wanted me to deliver that message to you,” I said.

  His brows furrowed as he read my chicken scratch and then his jaw tightened. I watched the muscle shift beneath his sculpted cheek and then I turned to stare out the hotel window, wishing I’d never answered that damn phone call.

  “You took this message?” he asked, staring back up at me with clear confusion.

  “Every word,” I said with a flat smile, finally turning back to look at him. “Looks like you have a hot date on Wednesday.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Julian

  I pulled my tuxedo jacket off the hanger and slipped each of my arms inside. I straightened the lapels on my jacket so that they lay flat against my chest and then reached to pull my cufflinks out of a small leather box. My father had passed them down to me on my fourteenth birthday and each one was inscribed with a cursive L. Once they were in place, I paused and stared up at my reflection in my hotel mirror. My black tie hung loosely around my neck, waiting to be fastened into a bow. My hair still stuck up in every direction from my shower. I’d need to tame it before I left for my mother’s fundraiser, but I was taking my time, dragging my feet to get ready.

  Truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to go to the fundraiser, especially not with a date handpicked by my mother. In the beginning, I’d set my heels in about the event, but then I spoke with Lorena and she planted the first seed of guilt in my mind.

  I hadn’t seen or spoken to my mother in months. I’d moved back to the city without even telling her and now she knew I was here and didn’t care enough to see her. My mother had a nasty streak to her, but it didn’t make me sleep any better at night, knowing there were ways I could have tried harder.

  So, I leaned forward and tied my bow tie, resolved to attend her fu
ndraiser for at least a few minutes. It wouldn’t kill me.

  By the time I left the hotel, my mood hadn’t shifted in the slightest. I was annoyed to have to spend a night schmoozing with fundraiser guests I didn’t care about, all the while knowing Josephine wouldn’t be present.

  Given the choice, I would have invited her as my date for the event, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t out to piss my mother off just for the sake of it, and I owed it to Josephine to give her some space.

  In the span of a few weeks we’d gone from strangers, to coworkers, to friends, and then I’d gone and pushed too far, too fast and fucked it up.

  What happened on Dean’s boat was the result of every repressed thought I’d had for the last few weeks, every time I caught myself watching Jo work, every time I thought of what she’d look like splayed out across my bed.

  I’d been selfish to kiss her when I was drunk. To Josephine, it seemed like I was playing with her life, like it was all a game. I hadn’t kissed her for my amusement. I’d kissed her because I damn well wanted to and now I had to consider the real implications of falling for my employee.

  I laced up my shoes, pulling the strings tight as I tried to decide how best to handle the situation with Josephine. My phone buzzed on my desk in the other room, but I didn’t bother checking it until I was walking out the door a few minutes later.

  I called for the elevator and swiped my finger across the screen, surprised to find a text from Josephine.

  Josephine: I forgot to tell you that I ordered flowers for Priscilla.

  I bristled at the thought. Why the fuck had she done that?

  Julian: You didn’t have to do that.

  The elevator arrived and the doors swept open as my phone vibrated again in my hand.

  Josephine: Your mom asked me to…I didn’t want you to get in trouble.

  I punched in the button for the first floor, surprised that it didn’t pop out of the display panel from the amount of force I used. I’d never have the audacity to ask Josephine to help me prepare for a date with another woman. Yet, there she was, buying my fucking date flowers. I clenched my hand into a fist, trying to quell the rage building toward my mother and her need to overstep her bounds at every turn. I watched the lights on the elevator panel, trying to decide how I could explain everything to Josephine without making her uncomfortable again.

  Julian: I wish you were coming with me.

  Good, asshole. That’s definitely a text you should send to your employee.

  I knew I was in the wrong, and yet I couldn’t ease off the idea of being with Josephine, really being with her. I’d have given anything to have her on my arm at the fundraiser. Instead, I had Priscilla.

  I had to hand it to my mom, she knew how to make a point.

  I’d grown up in the same circle as Priscilla. We’d dated briefly at the beginning of college and it had taken me all of one week to realize how hollow she was inside. The hairspray and the makeup and the perfume could only go so far. There was no substance there, nothing to draw me closer, nothing to make me want to lean in and listen, just to be sure I’d heard every word she’d uttered.

  Josephine: Obviously.

  I smiled.

  Julian: Prove it then.

  Josephine: Julian. STOP. Every time you flirt with me, I’m going to make you put $5 in a jar.

  Julian: I’ve got money to spend.

  Josephine: You’re right. Let’s scrap the jar idea. Perhaps a shock collar would be more effective?

  I shuddered at the thought.

  Julian: Point taken.

  Julian: Have any plans for the night?

  I imagined her out at a bar, sitting by herself, playing with a cocktail napkin while she waited for a man to approach her. He would. She’d sit there for a minute tops before some lucky bastard stole her time for the night. I stared down at my phone while she typed, hoping she’d reply with something boring that involved footed pajamas.

  Josephine: Nah, all my orgies fell through.

  I laughed and shook my head.

  Julian: Multiple?

  Josephine: Booked ’em straight from 8:00 PM - 8:00 AM.

  Julian: How does one prepare for a twelve-hour block of orgies?

  Josephine: 3-day juice cleanse…maybe some carbo-loading the night before. The usual.

  I laughed out loud in the lobby of the hotel, not even bothering to watch where I was going as I continued to text.

  Julian: Wouldn’t the juice cleanse and the carbo-loading counteract one another?

  Josephine: You’re going to be late to your fundraiser. I’ll talk to you later.

  My smile slipped away as my fingers hovered over my phone’s keyboard. I knew Josephine wouldn’t understand my reasoning for going to the fundraiser. She didn’t know my mother or understand our relationship. I didn’t have time to explain everything to her, but I knew that by cutting off the jokes, she was letting me know she was upset the only way she knew how.

  I’d have to find a way to prove to her that going to the fundraiser was strictly business for me.

  I didn’t pay attention as my driver headed in the direction of Priscilla’s apartment. I didn’t pay attention as she took a seat beside me in the backseat and I threw her a quiet greeting. I didn’t pay attention as we strolled past the step and repeat, cameras flashing in front of my face like overzealous fireflies.

  If someone had asked after the event what color Priscilla had worn or what she’d done with her hair, I would have blanked on the answer. Green? Navy? Something dark. Who knows.

  I made my way through the event and replied to questions when they were aimed in my direction. I kept watch for my mother, trying to find her so she could see that I’d done as she wished and attended her fundraiser.

  I kept one hand in my pocket, clenched around my cell phone, praying that it would vibrate with an incoming text from Josephine.

  Two hours into the event, I was antsy and bored. The cocktail hour was about to give way to the dinner portion of the evening and the thought of having to sit still through a four-course meal felt like a death sentence. I excused myself from a conversation I’d been ignoring and went to find my mother. I passed the mayor and his wife, a few celebrities I’d rubbed elbows with at past events, and a few buddies I’d known since private school. I nodded and threw waves as I passed, and then finally I found my mother at the front of the room, near the side of the stage with a microphone in hand.

  She was wearing a gold gown with a giant bow situated on the side of her hip. Her brown hair was pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck and her skin was covered in a dark fake tan. I knew it was fake because my sister and I had gotten our tan skin from our father while our mother was always the pale one out of the four of us. We’d go on vacation and Lorena, Dad, and I would tan to crisps on the first day. My mom would sit under a shaded umbrella with SPF 90 slathered over every inch of her skin.

  She was preparing to step up onto the stage, but I caught her attention just before she could.

  “Julian!” she cooed as her gaze slid over to me. “I was just about to do a quick introductory toast.”

  I leaned in and she did a double air kiss over each of my cheeks. I couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually hugged me.

  “Hey Mom. I’m actually going to have to head out, but I’m glad I got to see you. The event looks great.”

  There, that’s pleasant. Lorena couldn’t be mad at me. I’d attended the event. There was no law that said I had to be there to help clean up at 2:00 AM.

  My mother’s face fell—barely; the Botox ensured that most of her muscles couldn’t move more than a fraction of a centimeter.

  “Already?”

  She reached out for my arm and pulled me over to the side of the stage, out of the earshot of the friends she’d been talking to when I’d first walked up.

  “No. No. That won’t do, Julian. You’ll stay for my toast and then I’ll introduce you to a few acquaintances.”

&nbs
p; I thought of pulling out my wallet just to ensure that I was in fact thirty-fucking-one years old and capable of making my own decisions.

  I shook my head.

  “The fundraiser looks great and so do you. Pass on a hello to your friends for me.”

  “What about Priscilla?” she asked, her lips pursing together in annoyance. “It would be extremely rude of you to leave your date just like that. Perhaps this is why you’re still a bachelor at your age.”

  Yup. Perhaps, Mother.

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “She can take the car back when she’s ready to leave. She has plenty of friends here and many of them weren’t coerced into a playdate. I’m sure she’ll manage just fine.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” Her voice wavered. “After everything your sister has put me through this last year. You can’t even attend one fundraiser and make your mother happy? Is that too much to ask?”

  I flinched back and stared at her, baffled that she could spout such bullshit and manage to live with herself afterward.

  “What Lorena has put you through?” I asked, hearing the anger taking over my voice.

  Her eyes slid to her friends nervously, but I didn’t stop.

  “How many times have you visited Lorena in rehab? How many of your friends know that she’s seeking treatment for drug addiction and that she’s not on some extended European vacation?”

  She took a breath and cocked her chin in the air as if she were in the presence of someone hardly worth her time.

  “How I choose to conduct my relationship with my daughter is none of your business. You don’t know the first thing about what I’ve had to do to keep this family together.”

  I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged.

  “Well if you care, she’s done really well in treatment and she’ll be released in a few weeks. Maybe you can pencil her into your busy social schedule then,” I said, turning to scan for the quickest exit. I needed to get the fuck out of crazyville.