I reach across Elle’s lap to retrieve a pair of Classic Ray-Bans from the glove compartment, allowing the sleeve of my jacket to brush over the exposed skin of her knee. She cuts a glance at me as I slap the small door shut, but says nothing, and I slide on the shades.
Game on, Kissinger.
5
EVEN BEFORE COLIN PULLS into the property where the engagement party weekend is taking place, I already know I’m in a whole differentotherkind of trouble than I realized I was in two hours ago. At least I have control over thefirstkind of trouble I know I’m in. At least I canjust say noto any sexy, swoony, hooded-eyed glances like the one Colin offered me when hekissed my freaking handearlier.
Honestly, who does that?
The guys in the Hallmark movies, yes. Guys in real life, no.
But then again, here I am. Participating in an arrangement that’s straight out of one of those cheesy movies. Except that it’s clearthisis nowhere near as wholesome as one of those Hallmark movies. This isn’t going to end with me and Colin falling in love before we go back home. If his over-the-top, swoony gesture and sexy glance are any indication, it’s entirely possible that this will end with really naughty sex that we’ll both regret later. Or at least, thatIwill. I’m sure he wouldn’t give it a second thought ifthat were to happen. That’s why I have tojust say no, and that’s why I have control overthis kindof trouble.
But I digress.
Theotherkind of trouble is something I have no control over.
I realize as Colin is winding through a stunning and well-manicured drive flanked by massive, ancient trees, behind which the spires and vaulted rooftops of mansions peek through, that I am about to walk into a lion’s den. On some level, I knew I was going to be way out of my element this weekend given my knowledge of Ernesto Reyes and his global media empire. But seeing his family’s digs with my own two eyes all but hits me like a brick to the face that I have no business being anywhere near these people, and they’re never going to buy the lie Colin and I are peddling.
Hey, Reader. Have you ever seen pictures of the Palace of Versailles? Maybe you’ve had the good fortune to actually visit it (I haven’t). Well, this sprawling estate may as well be its American cousin.
Colin pulls up to an ivy-covered iron gate, and there’s a little box with a keypad into which he has to punch a code that slowly swings the gate open. Behind it is a long, oval drive that isn’t justpavement.It’s a beveled, fish scale pattern made of large, smooth stone pavers, and is punctuated in places by large granite medallions. The center of the drive is a lush green lawn withthreemassive fountains spaced equally from each other and flanked by those tall, slender green bushes that areso tallthey look like skinny Christmas trees, sans ornaments.
On the west side of the oval drive is what I’d guess these people call acottagebecause it’s smaller than the main house that sits front and center at the end of the drive. But make no mistake, this is no quaintcottage. It’s a mansion, too, and it’s probably seven or eight thousand square feet. It boasts the same French-style gray roof that soars to absurd heights on the main house, has about a million windows flanked by white stone, and at least six chimneys—meaning there are multiple fireplaces inside. Probably one in every freaking bedroom. The main house features wide, looming French doors and pristine white lion statues on either side, as well as more of those tall, slender bushes, except these are manicured into spirals. I can’t see too many of the details from this distance because the oval drive seems like it’s about a quarter of a mile in length.
Four cars are parked in front of the main house. They’re too far away for me to be able to decipher the makes and models, but I can already see that even Colin’s absurdly expensive BMW seems like a used Honda in comparison.
He’s guiding the BMW down the drive with nary a care in the world, and I’m suddenly a fish out of water, drowning in a sea of fresh air.
“Stop.”
The word bursts out of my mouth on pure reflex. Colin doesn’t stop, but he does ease on the brakes as he looks at me with bewildered alarm.
“What?” His dark brows are low on his forehead. “Why?”
“I’ll give you back your money. You don’t have to split the commission with me.” My mouth is dry as a sponge fresh out of the packaging, and I attempt to swallow. “You don’t even have to drive me home. Just drop me off next to the road, and I’ll call a cab or something.”
At that, he slows the car to a stop right next to the middle fountain and fixes his gaze on my face. “Wait, what?No. You can’t leave now. We have a deal.”
“I don’t want the deal. I want to go home. I don’t want to do this anymore.” I pick up my purse off the floorboard and pull on the door handle, shoving it open with my shoulder. “Just pop the trunk for me so I can grab my—”
“Elle,wait.” Colin clasps my free hand, stopping me. “What’s wrong? Why are you panicking all of a sudden?”
The car door is half open, but I stay in my seat, turning to him and throwing my hand in the direction of the windshield. “Do you see this place? I’m sure this is nothing out of the ordinary to you, but this isway the hellout of the ordinary for a plebe likeme,and I can’t do this. Iwon’tbe able to do this. These people willneverbelieve the charade we’re putting on, and Liliana’s going to come onto you anyway, and it’ll be like I’m not even here at all.”
“Okay, as long as you and I can focus on our respectivehappy placesand get along for the weekend, they’ll totally believe it.” He reaches across me to pull the door shut. “Why are you freaking out?”
“Because!” My heart is slamming against my sternum, and my hand is doing that limp wet rag thing again while he holds it firmly. “I am poor, white trash, Colin. I don’t know how to act around peoplelike this. These people are Americanroyalty, and you obviously are by extension, and they’ll never believe this facade becauseyou, thereal you, would never date someone likemeseriously enough to bring me to a placelike thisto rub elbows with peoplelike that.”
Colin stares at me, stubbly jaw hanging open slightly for a second before he purses his lips and narrows one eye in total incredulousness. “Oh comeon, Elle. Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not beinglikeanything.” I drop my purse handle and slap my open palm against my chest. “I justamthat. I grew up in theprojectsinQueens.I only moved out of my parents’ apartment there four months before Eli hired me, andtheyare the fucking scum of the earth. Icurrentlylive in a shitty, tiny apartment where I can barely make rent each month.My family has been poverty stricken our entire lives because my parents were more interested in booze and drugs than trying to take care of me, and that’s because I mighttechnicallybe their child, but what I really am is—”
It suddenly occurs to me that he doesn’t need to know any of this, and I’ve already said too much, and Colinreallydoesn’t need to know the rest of it. The mere thought of it combined with the fact that the drive to thispalacehappened to weave through the part of Queens that was the site of the single most traumatic thing that has ever happened to me causes a mortifying, child-like lump to swell in my throat. My chin is threatening to tremble, so I drop it low and turn my face away from him.
It takes great effort to swallow said lump in my throat. “Going into a place likethat, with people likethatis terrifying because I have no safety net. I will be trapped here for the weekend with nobody in my corner and only a guy who hates me because I’m a threat to his ability to accumulatethat kindof wealth. I don’t want to do this. Two days ago, I was fully prepared for you to fire me, and I know you’re going to if I don’t do this, and I’m still prepared for it.”
Colin says nothing. He’s still holding my limp, clammy hand with his perfectly warm and dry one, and I can feel him still staring at me. He continues to hold my hand when he leans away from me to prop his opposite elbow against the door and mutters, “Jesus fucking Christ,” amidst a light, sardonic chuckle.
