Fauxmance (Showmance #2)(44)

“It wasn’t too hard to guess, what with you being in that very handsome dressing gown,” I teased.

She scowled, lips twitching as she replied, “It might not be very sexy but it’s the most comfortable thing I own, so I don’t care if you’re judging me right now.”

I only smirked in reply and her expression turned anxious again. “Julian?”

“Yes, Ellen?”

She worried her lip. “I’ve been wondering if maybe I shouldn’t go to this party.”

“Why not?” I frowned.

“Well, I know nothing about these sorts of things. I’m going to be completely out of my depth,” she explained, her voice growing shaky.

I came forward and took both her hands in mine, my voice low and soothing. “I promise I won’t let anything happen that you’re not comfortable with.”

She took a deep breath, her eyes moving back and forth between mine as though deciding if she should trust me. “Okay,” she finally whispered.

I gave a tender smile. “Just think of me as your chaperone. If any gentlemen are too forward, I’ll intervene with my very best disapproving schoolmarm glare.”

Now she chuckled. “I know you’re joking, but it would actually make me feel so much better if you did.”

My expression was gentle as I squeezed her hands before letting them go. “You have nothing to worry about tonight. I’ll be right there with you the whole time.”

Ellen appeared relieved. She had no clue that I was the one she should be wary of, what with these lustful feelings I’d been having.

She took the dress and went inside the bathroom to change. On a shelf, I noticed several dog-eared copies of the Sasha Orlando books. They had colour coded tabs and sticky notes protruding from the spine. Well, there you had it. My theory that she was stealing anecdotes from the books was correct. I tried not to be too crestfallen.

When she emerged, I forgot all about her plagiarism, because my breath left me. The dress was like a second skin. It moulded to every inch of her body, the curves of her hips, the swell of her breasts. Her bra must’ve been thin because I was certain I could see a hint of her pert nipples peeking through. She hadn’t put her green contacts in, nor was she wearing her wig. Her golden-brown curls hung long around her shoulders, her brown eyes big and fathomless.

“How do I look? I’m not wearing my glasses, so I can’t see your expression. Your face is just a blur right now.”

Without thinking, I stepped forward, placed a hand on her delicate shoulder and ran it down her arm. Her skin was cool and soft. For a second, I had an urge to throw her down on the bed, tear off that sexy dress and have my way with her.

But I resisted. After her bout of nerves just a few minutes ago, she might have a panic attack of epic proportions if I did that.

“You’re breathtaking,” I whispered and her eyes grew larger. A small, surprised breath escaped her and she blinked.

“I was aiming for passable, but breathtaking works t-too,” she said, seeming nervous at my proximity. Her attention lingered on my throat before rising to meet my eyes. I gazed down at her, battling an inner struggle to kiss her. In a short time, we’d grown close, but it felt longer to me since I’d spent weeks watching her pretend to be Elodie at the café.

I now realised that it wasn’t just the outlandishness of Elodie that drew me in, it was Ellen herself. It was the aura that surrounded her.

My mouth hovered mere inches above hers before I blinked myself out of the swell of desire.

“You should probably finish getting ready if we don’t want to be late,” I said, my voice croaky.

Ellen nodded hastily and stepped away. “Yes, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

I felt out of sorts, and that was not usual for me. I wasn’t the type of person who flustered easily, but Ellen (not Elodie) was getting under my skin.

She was everything I never sought in a partner, and yet, getting to know her, peeling away her unexpected layers, was my new obsession. She’d pulled me in with the ruse of Elodie, who embodied the sort of woman I normally chased. Then the curtain fell to reveal something far more enthralling beneath.

By the time she was ready, I’d just about gotten my perplexing feelings under control. As our taxi approached the large, period home in Hampstead Heath that belonged to the Suttons, I studied Ellen’s reaction. She was in full costume, but I couldn’t seem to see her as Elodie anymore. She was just…her. For me, Elodie and Ellen were one and the same. A kaleidoscope of a single fascinating person.

“Big house,” she commented quietly.

“Lots of bedrooms, I imagine.”

She appeared to swallow, and I suspected her nerves were again getting the best of her. This was by far the most intimidating party we’d attended yet, and we hadn’t even gone inside. When the car pulled to a stop, I paid the driver and got out, going around to Ellen’s side and taking her hand. She held on tight.

We were welcomed by a butler and two maids. I leaned close to Ellen and whispered, “It’s just like Downton Abbey, except you get body searched before you can come inside.” The butler checked Ellen’s bag for any recording devices, then one of the maids searched her body, while I underwent the same treatment.

She gave a soft laugh. “I’m pretty sure whatever we’re about to walk into isn’t going to be anything like Downton Abbey.”