Dead to Her(42)

“A masked ball!” Keisha clapped her hands together, an excited child. “Let’s make everyone else hide who they really are for once!”

“Isn’t that a little Shades of Grey?” Julian said.

“We’re short on time to organize something like that,” Marcie said. A masked ball. It was like the fantasy of a teenager. “And remember, most people will already have plans that weekend. Maybe think smaller?”

“Are you crazy?” Pierre said. “The great William Radford the Fourth holding a masked ball with his indecently young new English wife? I don’t care what people had planned, if they’re invited, they’ll come. We’ll invite enough to make it sensational and leave off enough to create an envious buzz. The perfect way to organize a party.” He glared at Julian. “And there will be nothing Fifty Shades about it.”

“Well, we can’t speak for what happens after the party,” Julian said, with a wink.

“Did Eleanor ever host something like this?” Keisha asked.

“No,” Julian said. “Or if she did, it was longer ago than I remember.”

“Good.” Keisha sat back, satisfied. “If people are going to compare me to her all the time, let’s give them something to really see. A night to remember. Fire eaters, contortionists, mimes, all dotted around the garden. Give it a theme. I know! The beautiful and the damned! I went to a club night with that theme in London last year. It was crazy! Let’s make it sexy. What do you think, Marcie?” A loaded glance.

“Sounds amazing.” Marcie nodded, indulgently amused, even though her stomach was knotted again. Keisha was wild and there was no caging that. If she could just be a little more contained, then perhaps this delicious thing between them could continue for a while, but how could Keisha be trusted not to let it show? To understand the danger?

“We’ll be the belles of this ball.” Keisha leaned forward and whispered loudly, “Let them see what second wives can do!”

Even Marcie had to laugh at that. “Okay, where do we start?”

“We start with a Bloody Mary,” Pierre said, pulling his iPad Pro and notebook and pen out of his sleek Dolce & Gabbana bag. “And then we make the magic happen.”

“What he means is,” Julian cut in while collecting plates, “we’ll look at my spreadsheet of who’s currently in and who’s out.”

“But first, handsome man, you make the drinks.” Pierre shuffled closer to Keisha. “Now, my English slash African Queen, let’s talk color schemes. We want something bold, right?”



They were still talking when William got back at four, and when he swept through the room all smiles and kisses, Marcie took it as her cue to leave. Jason would be home and she didn’t want him to get pissed at her when he’d sounded in such a good mood in his text. Seemed like the men had had fun. Probably not as much fun as the girls, she thought wryly, but fun all the same.

“We’ll be right behind you,” Julian said as she gathered her stuff to leave. “Give the honeymooners some space.”

Marcie wasn’t surprised. For all the gushing welcomes and William pawing all over Keisha on his return, there had definitely been tension between him and the two party planners, and even though they’d been polite there was no sense that Julian had once been anything like family. Still, why did she care? This wasn’t her circus.

“I’ll see you out.” Keisha slid from her bar stool and followed. When they reached the front door, she leaned in and kissed Marcie chastely on each cheek, but there was nothing chaste about the hazy look in her eyes or, in fact, the sudden warmth between Marcie’s thighs. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” Keisha said with a mischievous grin. “I think I’m going to need your help with this party. Hands-on help.”

“I’ll do my best to oblige,” Marcie replied. It was so tempting. This desire. This passion. Maybe they could do this if they were careful. Just once more. She was trembling with anticipation already.





28.

“What’s the matter?” Keisha asked eventually. How could Billy’s moods change so fast? He’d been fine when he’d gotten home, but since coming downstairs from his shower he’d been in a shitty mood and didn’t seem at all interested in or impressed by her party plans. He was the one who’d wanted her to do all this stuff—he could at least pretend to care. An hour ago, he’d been all over her with kisses, his hand grabbing at her ass, but now she was walking on eggshells as they picked at the pasta she’d made.

“Is my cooking so bad? I thought you’d like it. I made it from scratch.” She’d actually been quite proud. A proper Italian carbonara from a recipe, not a cheap sauce from a packet like she’d use back in London.

“The food’s great,” he answered, with little enthusiasm.

“Well, something’s not.”

He put his fork down and looked at her and for the briefest moment she thought he’d seen into her soul and knew she wished he’d just hurry up and die.

“Your dress was on the floor in the bathroom and I went to hang it up so it wouldn’t get wet or damaged. Seems I was too late. From the state of it, I’d say you had quite a night.”

“I fell over.” Keisha’s skin was getting hotter and hotter. It sounded so lame. “I was with Marcie.”