Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(26)

Hmm, that would explain his fancy dress sense and the fact that he was swanning around town mid-morning with seemingly no job to answer to. I wondered if he was a trust fund baby or the heir to some big business. Perhaps his surname was Dyson.

“What’s your surname?” I asked with interest.

“Fairchild, why?”

That did sound fancy, but I didn’t recognise it. “Just wondering.”

“Are you going to Google me? You won’t find much. I don’t have any social media accounts.”

“Neither do I.” Aside from my author accounts, but those didn’t have any pictures.

Julian smiled. “We’re birds of a feather. So, what do you say, Ellen? Would you like to explore the world as Elodie with me as your guide? I have to say, I’d be honoured if you said yes.”

I tensed, but I couldn’t deny the idea was tempting. It was actually more than tempting, it was also scary. I had no idea if being Elodie would even work with anyone other than Suze. “I don’t even know you.”

“And I don’t know you. Finding out is half the fun.”

“So, you want to be my what? My fairy godmother? Or wait, fairy godfather?”

Julian smiled, a dimple deepening in his left cheek. “Since I believe gender is non-binary, fairy godmother will do. I definitely have one lurking inside of me somewhere,” he joked and gave a soft chuckle, gazing down at me. “My little Cinderella, I intend to prepare you to be the bell of every ball.”

I gulped, having a feeling I was in for something far removed from my normal, quiet little life. Ellen was quaking in her boots, but Elodie could hardly wait.





Chapter Seven





Julian





Fairy godmother.

I smiled to myself, quite liking the sound of that. When I got home after sharing coffee with Ellen at the bookshop, I thumbed through my diary, searching for an appropriate social engagement I could invite her to. Aside from meeting with clients, I prided myself on maintaining a full and varied social calendar. Over the years living in London, I’d made many friends and acquaintances spanning an array of social classes.

I kept all my upcoming events listed in my diary, mainly because I preferred hard copy over soft. I didn’t like to leave any sort of electronic trail in regard to my work. Sure, I used the internet from time to time, but I never saved any important information on my laptop.

I scanned the coming weekend and found I was invited to the birthday party of Branson Sutton. Branson was a successful and very wealthy race car driver whose wife frequented the same nail salon as I did. Yes, I got manicures and pedicures once a month just like any self-respecting metrosexual. Besides, keeping my appearance in optimum condition was technically a work expense.

That’s what my accountant said anyway. My official job title was “Freelance Alternative Therapist”. Go on, laugh, I know you want to. But nobody could deny that my work was both alternative and therapeutic for the women who hired me.

Anyway, Branson’s wife, Krystyna, was a blonde Polish beauty who thought I was an absolute hoot. Every time I saw her, she invited me to some new social event or other. The party would be a great opportunity for Ellen to spread her wings. She would be a complete stranger on the arm of an enigma. I was a known face in these circles, but few knew what I did for a living, unless they were a past or present client.

I pulled out my phone to send a text. Ellen and I had exchanged numbers before I left the bookshop.

Julian: Be ready this Saturday at 8 pm. I’ll pick you up from your place. Dress code is black tie.

Her response came several minutes later.

Ellen: Can I ask where you’re taking me?

Julian: To a party. Trust me, Elodie will love it ;-)

She didn’t text back after that, which I interpreted as acceptance. These days, I was a little jaded when it came to parties. They didn’t possess the same allure, and the women I met at them rarely interested me sexually. So yes, I was somewhat jaded in that respect, too. But the idea of going with Elodie, pretending with her, excited me. I enjoyed the prospect of being her escort, showing her a world she’s never experienced before. Opening her up to the possibilities.

If my estimation of Ellen was correct, she hadn’t done much socialising in her life. It would all be new to her, and I got to experience that newness through her eyes.

On Saturday, I pulled out my finest Hugo Boss suit, showered, spritzed on some Paco Rabanne, and I was ready to go. I arrived in a cab outside Ellen’s house at 8 pm and got out to knock on the door. It opened a little too quickly, like she’d been pacing the entryway, waiting for me.

There was a flash of red hair, my eyes catching on the black silk evening gown she wore. It had been a while since I’d seen Elodie. I’d almost forgotten how differently she dressed compared to Ellen. Every inch of the dress hugged the curves Ellen normally kept hidden under baggy T-shirts and jeans.

She ran her hands down her sides. “Is this okay? I ordered it online, so I wasn’t sure how it would fit.”

I held a hand out to her and she took it. “First of all, the dress looks incredible. And second, Elodie is not the sort of woman to second-guess what she’s wearing.”

She let out a nervous breath. “Right. I forgot. Sorry.”

I arched a brow and gave a tut. “Would Elodie apologise?”