The Allure of Julian Lefray Read online

  Josephine: I made such a fool of myself tonight.

  Lily: Spill. It’s probably worse than you think it is.

  Josephine: I told my could-be-future-boss that he didn’t have to give me an interview just because I was “practically begging for it”.

  Lily: So…you came onto him. Bold move, Casanova.

  I thought back to the way Julian had tried to conceal his laughter. It hadn’t worked. His dimples were there, the smile was there, and I knew he’d caught the unintentional innuendo.

  Josephine: Oh god. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m going to bed.

  I went through my nighttime routine, finally peeling off the red gown in exchange for a soft nightshirt. I kept my makeup on as I brushed my teeth, admiring the way the Nordstrom counter girl had applied my eye shadow earlier in the night. The gold tones made my green eyes pop and it was a pity to have to wipe it off.

  Once I’d checked that my one tiny window was locked and my apartment door was double bolted, I sauntered over to my bed and pulled my phone from where I’d set it to charge. I already knew there were two voicemails waiting for me. I’d ignored the calls earlier in the day, praying they’d both disappear by the time I got around to checking them.

  Unfortunately, they were both still there waiting for me.

  The first message was from Janine, my loan adviser and least favorite person in the world. I pressed play and stared up at my ceiling.

  “Hello Ms. Keller, this is Janine Buchanan from Forest Financial. I’m calling because we didn’t receive your student loan payment last month. This is the second month in a row that we’ve had a late payment from you and I want to remind you that one more missed payment means you risk defaulting. Also, please be advised that after a third late payment we will have no choice but to hire a collection agency and notify the credit bureau—”

  I hung up. Ms. Buchanan wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t heard before. Yes, my payments were late, yes I was dangerously close to defaulting on my loan, but unless I could start paying them back with Monopoly money, I was shit out of luck. I could either pay rent or pay my loans, and being homeless in NYC wasn’t cute.

  My phone automatically started playing the second voicemail message, and as terrible as Janine’s had been, that one was far worse.

  “Josephine, this is your mother.” As if I wouldn’t recognize her voice. “Listen, I know you aren’t going to take this well but I just have to tell you one more time. It’s my job as a mother to make sure you’re making good decisions and I can’t help but feel like you’re headed down the wrong path. Your father and I have talked and we think you should come back home to Texas. You’ve only been in New York for two weeks. No one will even have to know that you left. We’ll help with your loans and you can get a job in town. I’m not sure what you could do with that fashion degree of yours, but we’ll figure it out. I was talking to Beatrice when I was shopping and she said her sister is the manager at the TJ Maxx—”

  I pressed end on the message before it was over and dropped my phone onto my bed. Throughout high school, I’d overheard hushed conversations between my parents that often followed the same pattern: my dad would worry that I was being bullied at school for the way I dressed, then my mom would do her best to settle his nerves, but nothing helped. “Why can’t she just be like the other girls?” might not have ever been said aloud, but it was the undertone of most of my adolescent years.

  My parents had a way of cowing me so easily, so swiftly, that for a moment I almost considered moving home. How easy would it be to live with them and have them help me with my loans? How easy would it be to give up on living my dream in New York City for a quiet life in Dullsville, Texas? Sure, I’d managed to find a tiny apartment, but how long would I be able to afford the rent? How long could I pretend that anything was going according to plan?

  I let the nagging self-doubt sink in. If my parents didn’t believe I could make it, then how could I believe in myself? After all, New York wasn’t for everyone. Right?

  But then I remembered Julian and the promise of a job interview and I decided that first thing in the morning I was going to march down to the Lorena Lefray offices and demand an interview.

  I had nothing to lose, and I knew no one needed the position as badly as I did.

  Chapter Five

  Julian

  As soon as I returned from the gala, I ripped off my bowtie and tuxedo jacket and threw them on the desk beside my computer. My hotel room was dark, but I didn’t bother flipping on any lights. I was thirty floors up and there was enough light seeping in from the city that I could see just fine.

  I fixed a drink from the mini bar and settled in by the window, staring down at Central Park. I’d hated hotel rooms for years. I’d had to travel a lot in my twenties, helping to expand the Lefray family companies to the global scale they now enjoyed. At thirty-one, all I wanted was to be back home in Boston in the bed I’d picked out and far, far away from the realities I now faced.

  The week before, my baby sister had finally entered herself into a rehab facility after years of trying to fight her addictions alone. It was a bold move, one that the media were already suspicious of, but if she had any desire to see her thirtieth birthday, it was the only option she had. I’d promised her I would step in and keep the ship on course for the time being. She had detailed plans to overhaul the entire place, to get rid of the toxic employees and the clock-punching deadbeats while she had the strength to do it. That was where I came in. Unfortunately, that meant I was in New York, holed up in the penthouse suite of some hotel, alone and tired. I loved the power and responsibility, but I resented the monotony of corporate politics. It reminded me too much of my family.

  My father died young in a car crash, and neither my sister nor I trusted my mother with the responsibilities of running Lorena’s company, which conveniently left everything on my shoulders.

  I took a sip of my drink and mulled over the list of people I still knew in the city other than my family.

  There was Dean, an old college buddy who’d settled down in New York after school, but I couldn’t call him at midnight just to announce that I was back in the city for the foreseeable future. I made a mental note to give him a call the next day just as my computer dinged with an incoming email.

  I turned toward my desk and contemplated waking it up. Opening my laptop at midnight was a slippery slope—as with any workaholic—but I was far past the point of pretending I had any work-life balance. Answering emails helped me put my world in order, and if anything, I’d sleep easier knowing I had everything prepared to begin work the following morning.

  I pulled out the chair from behind the hotel desk and took a seat. I had twenty-two unopened emails, most of which were filled with resumes and cover letters pertaining to the executive assistant position I’d posted around the web earlier that day. I’d posted on the Columbia and NYU alumni pages and I knew I’d have a number of applicants more than interested in the job.

  An image of Josephine flitted through my mind. I’d promised her that all the applicants would be judged fairly, but the memory of how she’d looked in that red dress would be impossible to forget. Even still, I knew how to conduct a professional interview. Just because she was beautiful didn’t mean she was the person most suited for the job. If anything, it’d make my life a lot easier if she wasn’t a qualified applicant.

  Curiosity won out.

  I scrolled down the list of emails until I found one sent from [email protected]. She’d sent her resume about an hour after I’d first posted about the job.

  I scanned her resume, attempting to stay as impartial as possible. She’d done her undergrad at a small fashion school in Texas with a focus on fashion marketing and branding. She’d interned for a few local fashion brands while in school and had started a blog a few years before blogging had really caught on everywhere. I clicked the link to her site and smiled at the name. What Jo Wore was a simple website. It was user-friendly w
ith a clean layout and professional graphics.

  My interest was piqued as I scrolled down and realized her last post had been about the gala.

  What Jo Wore

  Post #1248: You’ll never get anywhere by staying in your comfort zone.

  Comments: 34 Likes: 309

  Tonight, ladies and lads, I will be attending the New York Fashion Gala. That’s right, little ol’ Josephine Keller from way down yonder in Texas (that’s the wild wild West for those of you who’ve never ventured past Fifth Avenue) will be rubbing elbows with New York’s elite. I rented a gown from renttherunway.com. I highly recommend using this site if you’re someone like me and have designer tastes on a beggar’s budget.

  I promise to give you all the juicy details about the event as soon as I wake up tomorrow, but in the meantime, here are the top three trends I’m seeing around New York as of late:

  Chunky overalls. I’m serious, people. Moms everywhere are pairing them with white converse and Berkin Bags. I’ve linked a few pairs below. BEWARE: as with all ‘kitschy’ trends, this can go south, fast. Be sure you aren’t pairing your overalls with any of the following: chunky tennis shoes, baggy t-shirts, or—god forbid—a fanny pack.

  Bright lip stains. (I’m wearing this red shade tonight. It’s a little bold, but I want to stand out.)

  Big, loud statement necklaces. Pair ’em with a jersey dress or layer them over a J. Crew tee. These necklaces will be trending for multiple seasons, I guarantee it.

  All right, I have to go get ready for the gala! I’m already nervous, but I’m going to think back to the title of this blog post every time I feel like giving up: you’ll never get anywhere by staying in your comfort zone!!!

  Until tomorrow,

  XOJO

  I was impressed enough by her wit to browse through a few more pages of her archived posts. Her writing was approachable and real. Most of the women who worked in New York fashion would never admit to thrift shopping, but Josephine had a freshness about her that her readers seemed to appreciate and connect with.

  After scrolling through a few pages, I clicked back to my email and attempted to run through a few more resumes. There were plenty of well-qualified applicants, lots of graduates from Parsons and FIT. There were applicants who had interned with Tommy Hilfiger and other top brands, but as I finished off my drink, I was still thinking of Josephine. She had hardly half the work experience of some of the other applicants, but I found myself already imagining her in the position. She and I could work well together. She’d make me laugh. Wasn’t that important? And sure, maybe I was also craving another glimpse of those lips. Every man has his weakness.

  Before closing down my computer for the night, I opened a new email window and started typing away before common sense set in.

  Subject: Interview Request from Julian Lefray

  Chapter Six

  Josephine

  I woke up bright and early the morning after the gala, ready with a full cup of coffee and chock-full of false optimism. I was planning on checking my emails, finding my most businesslike outfit, and then waltzing down to Lorena’s office for an interview. The fact that I had no clue where her offices were seemed like a negligible detail.

  Unfortunately, my go-get-em attitude wasn’t needed. The first email, sitting right at the very top of my neglected inbox, was from Mr. Fuck-Me himself. Er, I mean, Julian Lefray. It had been sent at 1:14 AM, which immediately made me wonder if he’d been up late thinking of me, but I knew better. Nope. No. Don’t go there. You need a job and he’s looking for a new assistant. Nothing more, nothing less. Ignore the tall, dark, and handsome vibe. Book boyfriends exist for a reason.

  Julian needed an assistant, and while being organized wasn’t exactly my forte, I needed this job badly enough to pretend it was. One look at the mountain of bills sitting on my kitchen-turned-bathroom counter drove that point home.

  I immediately replied to his email with my availability, and then dragged my laptop right back to bed to type up my next blog post.

  What Jo Wore

  Post #1250: Job Interview Attire (Or how I pretend to be much more professional than I actually am…)

  Comments: 55 Likes: 513

  Tomorrow I have a super important job interview. I know, YIKES. Send some positive vibes my way!

  You guys are always asking me to do posts about workday attire, so I thought I would share three of my favorite interview outfits with you all. Most of the items are thrifted or from a few seasons ago, but I’ve linked to the few items you can still find around the web.

  Also, disclaimer: I snapped these photos using a timer on my camera so please excuse the poor composition. I’ve yet to find someone to help me with photographs in New York. I used to bribe my best friend Lily to take my photos back in Texas. Let’s hope for y’all’s sake I find someone soon! For now, just squint and pretend these are awesome photos!

  Until tomorrow,

  XOJO

  …

  The day of my interview, I woke up extra early and slipped into a pair of fitted navy slacks and a cream long-sleeved blouse. The day before, I’d researched Lorena’s company while watching a marathon of murder mystery shows. Sure, I was now highly paranoid about getting kidnapped, but at least I felt prepared for my interview.

  Julian wanted me to meet him at Blacksmith Coffee at 9:00 AM, sharp. Once again, I tried not to read too much into his choice of venue. Late night emails, coffee shop interviews…sure, most interviews were conducted in a boardroom with stuffy, boring businessmen, but maybe Julian liked to stretch his legs.

  I was nearing the coffee shop, giving myself an internal pep talk, when my phone buzzed in my hand.

  Lily: Good luck with your coffee date. Oh, I’m sorry, “interview”. ;)

  Josephine: STOP. Seriously. There is no hanky panky happening. I’m a professional career woman.

  Lily: I looked him up last night per your email… Y’know, maybe you should have mentioned the fact that he is a 10/10 on “Josephine’s hot guy scale”?

  Was he?

  Josephine: I hadn’t noticed.

  Lily: I’m so calling bullshit on that.

  Josephine: Lalalala. Can’t hear you over the sound of my future calling. Oh, and it’s Vogue. I better take it.

  Lily: You are so lame.

  I pocketed my phone, pushed my shoulders back, and held my head high as I pulled open the door to the coffee shop. I couldn’t let Lily get into my head. I needed to get into business mode. I am Josephine, hear me roar.

  The scent of roasting coffee overwhelmed me as I stepped into the shop. It was a small, intimate space. One wall had been left with exposed red brick and another was covered in shiplap wood. Mercury glass chandeliers hung overhead and two antique green velvet couches sat at the front of the shop for people to sit and wait for their coffee.

  I kept walking, past the start of the coffee line, scanning the room for Julian. There was a small, secluded room in the back and when I stepped past the central brick archway, I spotted Julian at a table against the wall. My stomach dipped at the sight of him. He was dressed down compared to the tuxedo he’d worn for the gala, sporting a crisp white shirt, sans tie. The top button was undone and he’d rolled the sleeves to his elbows. He adjusted on his chair and reached down to smooth the thigh of his charcoal gray pants. I studied his hand and its placement on his thigh before he glanced up at the girl in front of me who was bee-lining for his table.

  She giggled as she sat, saying something annoyingly cute, I’m sure. I was fifteen minutes early for our scheduled appointment and it appeared he wasn’t yet done with the interview before mine.

  Why did that bother me so much?

  I turned to move away, feeling like a weird voyeur just standing there and watching them, when Julian held up his hand.

  “Just give us ten more minutes, Josephine,” he said with an apologetic smile.

  Oh god, he saw me standing here.

  I forced a polite nod and moved to join the cof
fee line. The entire time I waited for my vanilla latte I wondered just how much Julian could get away with when he used that apologetic smile of his. Those deep-set dimples. The genuine look in his hazel eyes. The man probably hadn’t heard the word “no” since he was five years old.

  By the time I had my drink in hand, the seat across from Julian was empty and I made my way over. Was the girl before me qualified for the position? More qualified than me? Julian was typing away on his iPhone as I approached, but when he caught me out of the corner of his eye, he pocketed his phone and stood to pull out my chair for me.

  “Why, thank you,” I joked.

  He smiled.

  “Sorry that interview ran a little overtime. I hope you weren’t waiting long,” he said, bending forward so that I could hear him over the background noise of the coffee shop.

  My body was interpreting the entire situation wrong. The way he’d pulled my chair out and leaned in close so that we were only a small table away from each other. The way he scanned over my features before taking a sip of his coffee. My heart thought, “Wow this date is going well!” while my brain screamed at me to remember that this was a job interview.

  “I’ll admit, I sort of thought I’d be the only applicant meeting you here today,” I said, unsure of where the honesty was coming from.

  “Why would you think that?” he asked with a bemused smile.

  I shrugged, glancing at the table beside us while I processed my answer. “I guess because this seems like kind of a strange place to conduct interviews.”