“Friends,” he repeated. His deep voice went even lower. His lips pulled up in that sardonic grin as he gazed at the wide-open road ahead. “And when you do leave? Then what?”
The thought of leaving a place always bothered her a bit after she’d grown to know people, but there’d always been a sense of relief, too. But there was no relief at the prospect of never seeing him again. In fact, the thought of leaving Jack tore a tiny hole in her heart. Which made absolutely no fucking sense.
“We can stay friends. We can chat on the phone. I promised my cousin and my parents I’d come back to New York to edit the manuscript. Maybe you could drop by sometime if you’re ever on that side of the pond.” Even to her own ears, her voice sounded falsely upbeat. “And I think that —”
“It’s grand.” Jack’s interjection was short, clipped. “It’s grand, Penny. Friends, it is.” But he’d gritted the words out between his smile, and his fingers were still death-gripping the wheel.
Penny sank into her comfy seat, feeling oddly unsatisfied at his lack of resistance to the idea of being platonic buddies with her. She knew what would happen. They’d make the occasional phone call that would eventually grow infrequent before they simply stopped. She wanted him to fight back and tell her they were going to be together, commanding her to open every corner of herself to him.
Real mature. Penny was a master of contradictions, saying one thing while desperately wanting another. She was a fucking basket case. Jack should consider himself lucky not to get drawn any deeper into her messy inner world.
“Want to listen to some music?” he asked, and she quickly agreed. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood to say much more.
After a while, the GPS announced they were almost at their destination. A tower rose suddenly from the green and gold landscape, a fortress of elegant ancient stone. They drove through a forest, then along a tree-lined road to reach the black wrought-iron gate surrounding the main property. Penny hadn’t been sure what to expect, but as she gazed up at its five stories with turrets and terraces, she wondered if she were stepping back in time to a medieval court.
“You didn’t tell me it was a castle,” she told Jack, who was peering up at the structure through the windshield as well.
“I didn’t know. Never been here before.”
The road became a circle in front of the sprawling home. Several other cars had pulled up and were being handed over to the care of a team of valets dressed in eighteenth-century costumes, from their powdered wigs down to their buckled shoes, similar to the shoes that had been acquired for Jack.Another team was busy managing the luggage from each guest’s vehicle, tagging them, and efficiently loading them onto golden carts like practiced airport handlers.
Before Jack could do so, one of the valets rushed to her side and opened the door for her. Penny stepped out and thanked him, still looking around. The other guests were greeting each other, obviously part of the same social set. They ranged in age but were skewed to late thirties and up. Way up, as some guests looked to be in their late sixties. And there was only a sprinkling of Black and brown faces in the overwhelmingly milk-white sea.
This demographic was more or less what she’d been expecting. She’d rubbed elbows with crowds like this as the daughter of a respected judge who attended the best schools in the region. But not knowing anyone beside Jack was daunting. Uncertainty made her reach for his arm, who gave it to her without hesitation and put his large, reassuring hand over hers. Penny decided she was sticking close to him tonight, no matter what.
“If this ain’t the who’s who,” Jack said in a low voice only she could hear. “That man with the bald spot over there…. he’s the deputy mayor of a certain big city in France. Those two…”
“Yes, I’ve seen their movies. This is wild,” Penny murmured, trying to hide her excitement. “What do these people do? The FitzGeralds, I mean.”
“They used to be landed gentry. Peasant labor got them rich. Now they’re in finance mostly. They own a bank, among other things. Many other things.”
Heads were turning to check out Jack and then herself. Some nodded with welcoming expressions. A few looked a little too interested in her body under her coat, calculations seeming to run in their minds. Jack glared back until they nodded and turned to their own companions, whispering.
A strange sensation of energy in the air built and intensified when they entered the castle to be greeted in the foyer by aline of young men and another line of young women dressed for service, again in old-school costumes. They were wearing masks in addition to the outfits. Nice touch. The foyer was decorated with tapestries, similar to the one in the steakhouse, except much older. Tables were adorned with vases, but instead of flowers they held stalks of wheat. Beside them were golden bowls filled with red, ripe apples and decanters of thick liquid that shone deep gold. It looked like honey.
At the head of the line stood a man and a woman. He was a very light tan and silver-haired, with magnetic bright blue eyes and a good physique. The man stroked his neat white mustache and goatee as though from habit. The woman had feline green eyes, but her hair was a thick black bob cut to frame her alabaster pixie face. They weren’t dressed in costumes unless “really rich person” was an outfit. The man was in a tailored silver-gray suit that was a perfect fit, and the woman wore a black gown cut to her waist in the center with a chunky diamond collar at the neck.
“Simon FitzGerald and his wife Clarissa,” Jack murmured to Penny.
He seemed wary now, the muscles in his arms bunching with tension under her hand even through his coat. The way he looked at Clarissa and the way the woman stared back at him, then at her, caused a stiffness to settle between Penny’s shoulders. Immediately, she knew something was up here.
It dawned on her that maybe this was the reason Jack needed a date. To make this married woman jealous? To cover as his date so her husband wouldn’t know something was going on?
“Ah. Lucky Jack Valentine,” Simon called in a friendly, measured voice with a clear, crisp English accent. “Welcome to my humble abode. I hope your drive up from the city was pleasant.”
“It was.”
Jack was starting off on the wrong foot for someone hoping for checks and/or hoping to avoid pissing off a husband. Glancing up at him, Penny tugged him forward and went to shake Simon’s hand.
“Handshakes? You’re my guest, and as my guest, you’re a friend.” The man leaned in and kissed Penny’s cheeks. He smelled like expensive cognac and cinnamon. “I’m Simon FitzGerald. Welcome to my home, Miss…?”
“Yes, Jack. Who is your charming companion?” Clarissa asked, also with an English accent, giving Penny a slow up-and-down stare. She was model thin, the delicate notches of her ribcage visible under the exposed skin of her chest.
“Penelope Valentine,” Jack said before Penny could speak. It was more like a growl than words. “My wife.”
9
SILK AND SATIN
