Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(42)
“Wow, that’s…incredible.” And exactly how many lovers passed through his bed? I coughed, not brave enough to ask the question. “I mean, it’s a big fear to help someone get over. You must be good.” It also reinforced my idea that Julian might be able to help me, too.
His gaze darkened, the look in his eye making my stomach flip. “Better than you know,” he said huskily.
I looked away. There was too much intensity in him now. I wondered if he did it intentionally, if he wanted me to feel this way, or if it was simply natural. Some people didn’t have to try to seduce. They just did. It was as easy as breathing.
“So, how did everything go with Val after I left the other night?”
He nudged my shoulder. “Why Elodie, are you fishing for sexy details?”
I grinned, while on the inside the small bit of jealousy I felt expanded. “I might be.”
“Well, I wish I had a story to tell. Unfortunately, she left soon after you. I suspect she might’ve gone back to Keith’s hotel with him.”
Why did this news relieve me so much? Oh right, because I fancied the pants off Julian.
I sighed. “How easily some people’s affections are swayed.”
“Quite,” Julian agreed. “Now I better start introducing you to people before the bidding begins.”
He swept me through the room, and just like last time I made the acquaintance of dozens of important and wealthy people. Some of them I recognised from television. It was oddly sobering to see them in a non-airbrushed reality. Plus, with Elodie as my mask, I wasn’t intimidated.
I recognised Branson and Krystyna Sutton when they approached. Krystyna wore a long, colourful sequins dress that gave the effect of stained glass. It was one of the most unique gowns I’d ever seen. She approached gracefully, her smile practiced and demure.
“Elodie,” she greeted, then turned to my companion. “Julian. What a wonderful pleasure to see you both again.”
“Likewise. Elodie and I had a wonderful time at your party last week.”
“Indeed. I was sad we didn’t get to spend more time together,” Krystyna went on, her husband silent and watchful by her side. Now that I studied him, there was something intense about Branson. He didn’t say much, but he watched you like a hawk. I wasn’t sure if it made him intriguing or scary. I guess it took a unique sort of person to be a race car driver.
“I was actually hoping to see you here,” Krystyna said. “I have an invitation for you. We’re throwing a party at our house next weekend and I’d love for you both to come.”
A party at their house? Did she mean one of their sex parties? Nerves fluttered in my belly while Julian politely accepted the invitation. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
Wait, what? I couldn’t go to a party like that. I just…the very idea had me completely flustered and coming out in hives.
She removed a small envelope from her purse and slid it into the pocket of his suit jacket. “See you soon,” she purred before she and her husband moved on.
A beat of silence passed as I blinked at their retreating forms. “Well,” I breathed.
Julian let out a quiet chuckle and turned to face me, his voice low. “Can you effing believe that?”
I shook my head, flabbergasted. “Did we just get invited to a celebrity swingers party?”
His smile was so wide, so handsome. “You bet your arse we did.”
“Fuck.” It was a rare occasion that I swore, but this certainly called for it.
Julian gave my shoulder a squeeze. “Fuck indeed, my dear Elodie. Fuck indeed.”
Chapter Twelve
Julian
“You’re quiet tonight,” Cathy commented.
We were at a rooftop bar, sipping cocktails, or well, mocktails in my case. I’d chosen the location specifically because there was a hotel below and I knew Cathy felt ready to take the next step with me. The problem was, I didn’t feel ready, or perhaps ‘ready’ wasn’t the right word. I just wasn’t my usual self. On our previous dates, I’d enjoyed her company, and she was as lovely as always.
The issue lay solely on my doorstep. I couldn’t stop thinking about Ellen. She was in my thoughts, and when I was fixated on one woman, it was difficult to put my all into another.
“I apologise,” I said, turning to my date. “I’ve been distracted.”
She lightly touched my wrist, shifting closer in her seat. “Something on your mind?”
Not something, someone.
I sipped my drink. “You could say that.”
Her thumb brushed lightly back and forth. “Feel free to unload on me. I’m a divorce lawyer,” she gave a soft laugh. “I often have to double as a client’s therapist.”
I shook my head. “This date is for you. If anything, you should be unloading on me.”
“Well, I deleted my Facebook account several weeks ago, so I can no longer spy on my ex-husband and stress about all the floozies he posts photos with, which means I don’t have much to complain about these days.”
I blew out a breath. It would be unprofessional of me to talk about Ellen while I was working. But I really could use some perspective and Cathy was a wise lady. I glanced at her, her understated beauty, soft and feminine, her eyes kind and warm.