As it was, there were tons of staff milling around to greet us, lots of guests already lounging on a covered porch with heat lamps, and more people inside the home. One of the lawns next to the mansion was set up with tables and fairy lights, and I guessed we’d be out there for a cocktail hour tonight.
“Raphael Garcia has exploded in the last few years. He just showed his fourth haute couture collection and is expanding into cosmetics.”
I nodded at Jared’s quiet words. “Hence the importance of the perfume launch.”
“We need to salvage the relationship this weekend. His feathers are ruffled, and by Monday I want him to feel confident we can deliver.”
“Roger,” I said, nodding.
A staff member led us to the grand entrance at the end of the drive, then swept open the front door just as Raphael Garcia came floating down the wide hallway toward us. He was a bald man with a perfectly trimmed beard and round glasses.
“Branson!” he exclaimed, spreading his arms, gaze shifting to me. “And guest!”
I painted a smile on my lips, even though I felt a twinge in my chest. It was a good reminder of where exactly I stood, though. I was the placeholder, the plus-one. I was, “and guest.” Jared might ask me personal questions, and he might even kiss me in a dark room at the back of an event, but I didn’t belong here. I wasn’t one of these people, even in my vintage Balmain dress.
“Raph, this is Nikita,” Jared said, his hand sliding down my spine. Despite my mental reminder, the touch sent warmth spiraling through my core.
Raphael studied me. He was a tall man with sharp blue eyes that watched me from behind his round glasses. He wore a perfectly tailored button-down with a subtle embroidered pattern which was half-tucked at the front of his relaxed slacks. The look could have been sloppy but for the clear luxury of the fabrics and their perfect cut. He looked easy and relaxed and rich.
I felt like an impostor. Which wasn’t a great surprise since that’s exactly what I was. “Thank you for having us,” I said, widening my smile. “Your property is gorgeous.”
“Oh, this old place?” he said lightly, then he frowned at me. Well, more specifically, he frowned at my dress. I gulped and tried not to fidget. Had I misjudged? Should I have gone for easy and breezy? I went through the mental catalog of the clothing I’d brought and began frantically planning my outfits for the weekend.
Then Raphael rubbed his chin. “You,” he said, “have a point of view.”
His eyes rose to meet mine. I blinked. “Don’t we all?”
His expression turned wry. “Darling. Don’t be ridiculous.” Whirling, he called out, “Come! Let me give you a tour. Marcia! Where are the welcome drinks!”
Jared let out a slight breath, shooting me a quick glance. I thought I read approval there-or maybe it was relief. A lady appeared from a side room bearing a silver tray with three flutes of champagne. Raphael plucked two of them from her tray to give to us, then thanked her as he took the third.
“The cocktail hour will be at five o’clock tonight through that door,” he said, flicking his hand at a huge carved timber door to the left. “The library. The small salon. Dining room is through there. We’re doing casual breakfasts between seven and nine. Come down and serve yourself. Through there to the beach. Water’s a bit too rough to take the kayaks out, but it’s still nice to take in the fresh air once in a while. Sunroom. Billiards room. Upstairs!” He swept his arms out and guided us toward the dramatic staircase covered in rich red carpet.
The decor was a mix of mid-century modern pieces and a few timeless classics. It felt like they’d been here for ages, but the few modern art pieces told me that this place had been curated. I loved it. It was edgy and cool without verging into stiff and uncomfortable.
Compared to the overdone event spaces we’d seen and the stuffy estate owned by the Bransons, this place was homey and wonderful. I found myself enjoying the glimpses I got, and I readjusted my opinion of Raphael Garcia from penis-perfume-bottle designer to someone who actually had great taste.
“Here we are,” he proclaimed, throwing open a set of double doors. “Your room.”
The three of us stepped into the space, and my stomach dropped. Raphael turned with a smile, sweeping his arm dramatically. I did my best to curl my lips and hide the dismay creeping through my chest.
It was a gorgeous room with high ceilings and ornate crown molding. Even from across the room, I could tell the view from the big bay window would be fantastic. I could see a slice of beach and the expanse of the ocean beyond. The furniture was timber and solid-looking, probably antique. The door to an attached bathroom gave me a view of the corner of a claw-foot tub and cute mint-green tiles.
That was all fantastic.
But there was a problem.
A big, fluffy, king-sized problem.
“I’ll leave you to it!” Raphael announced. “I think I just heard someone else arrive.”
He walked out again, and a member of staff nodded to us as she closed the doors. Our bags had already been carried up and unpacked in the walk-in closet, which I noticed in the quick glance I sent that way. Then my eyes returned to the main piece of furniture which was causing me significant distress.
Namely, the bed.
The one bed. That I’d have to share. With my boss. Whom I’d kissed just yesterday.
Jared cleared his throat. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
I blinked and glanced at him. “Do you think that’s necessary?”
He gave me a flat stare. “Judging by the look on your face, yes, it is.”
I reared back. “What look on my face?”
“The horror and dread.”
“Horror and dread!”
His lips twitched as he said, “It’s right there.”
“I’ll have you know I feel no horror or dread.”
“Do you not?” He turned to face me, and I made the mistake of retreating. Jared advanced, and then he was crowding me against the wall.
My breath quickened. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever this is.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.