Gramercy Nights (The Argo Press Trilogy Book 1) (43 page)

“And why is that?” Sebastian asks playfully as he strides over.

“Tuxes. I am definitely a fan of tuxes.”

Sebastian lets out a full-bodied laugh. “We can go to all the black tie events you’d like. It’s worth it just to see you dressed like this,” he says but before I have a chance to respond, he holds out his arm for me. “Ready?”

There’s a limo waiting downstairs and Sebastian holds the door open for me, helping me inside.

“I seem to remember a very good time in the back of this limo,” he says suggestively and I flush. It feels like a lifetime ago, but I shake my head, laughing.

“Not happening. It was hard enough getting into this dress the first time.”

“Fair enough, babe,” he says laughing. “How about a drink, then? It’s going to be a long fucking night knowing you’re completely naked under that dress.”

“Weren’t you the one to say good things come to those who wait?” I tease.

“Fuck waiting. We could turn the car around and go home. They have my check. I don’t need to be there tonight. I can think of a number of much better ways to spend the night.”

I laugh. “Oh no, you forced me to endure the humiliation of shopping with you and now I’m wearing a ridiculous dress I will probably never have a reason to wear again. I at least want to make it inside.”

“I hate when you’re right,” Sebastian says with a laugh as he scoots down to fetch the bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket. He hands me a glass and I take a small sip, feeling the bubbles explode on my tongue. Sebastian holds his glass but doesn’t take a sip.

“You can do all sorts of terrible things to me when we get home later,” I say. I expect Sebastian to say something, but instead he’s silent, watching me carefully. I can tell he’s debating whether or not to speak. I frown. I don’t like nervous Sebastian. It freaks me out.

“What?”

Sebastian takes a big sip of his champagne and I bit my lip. No, nervous Sebastian is definitely disconcerting.

“I liked hearing you say that,” he says finally.

“Say what?”

“Home.”

I shrug my shoulders and take another sip. “Okay.”

A crease forms between his eyes. “Move in with me?”

I burst out laughing at the pained expression on Sebastian’s face.

“Why are you laughing?” he asks in frustration.

“Because you look like you’re about to vomit,” I joke, reaching out a placing a hand on his thigh, feeling his tense muscles twitch beneath my palm.

“I hate when you sleep at your apartment. I’ve never slept as well as I sleep when I’m in bed with you. I love waking up to you in the morning. Love making love to you in the middle of the night. So yes, I’m very much serious. Please say yes.”

Sitting in front of me is the most beautiful man I have ever known. Handsome and kind and absolutely in love with me. Am I ready to move in with him? I don’t know. But this has been a whirlwind romance, one that started in the least likely manner possible.

What I do know for certain is: I won’t be happy unless I’ve tried. And if that means jumping off the edge, arms spread, praying that Sebastian will catch me, then so be it.

A grin spreads across my lips. “Yes.”

Sebastian’s grin matches my own and we’re still kissing when the limo pulls to a stop beneath the gilded marquee of the Wentworth Hotel in Midtown Manhattan.

“Last chance to go home.”

I make a face and Sebastian pulls me in for one last kiss. “I love you,” I whisper before Gary opens the door for me and I step out into the flash of the photographers’ cameras. I glance over my shoulder, catching a glimpse of Sebastian’s face, lit up with boyish delight, and all of a sudden, I don’t care about the photographers, or the gala, all I care about is Sebastian. Everything else fades away.

Sebastian wraps his arm around my waist and leads me inside. “I love you, too,” he says, leaning down until his lips brush my skin.

The hotel ballroom is packed with the crème de la crème of New York’s elite, elegant ball gowns swishing across the parquet floors as waiters move silently though the room with trays of champagne. Sebastian grabs two glasses, passing me one and taking a sip. The charity event is for Fresh Start, a non-profit aimed at helping young people recover from drug addiction.

Large banquet tables are spread throughout the room with enormous bouquets of white lilies.

“Does any of the money actually go to the charity?” I whisper to Sebastian as I glance around the room. They must have spent a fortune on this.

“Trust me, they make it all back and more by the end of the night.”

We take our seats at one of the large banquet tables and I see our names written out in elegant script on tiny place cards. All around us, elegant older couples are taking their seats, and Sebastian seems to know everyone, smiling and greeting them. But of course he does. This is his world. A world of tuxes and gala dinners and expensive champagne, but his attention is focused only on me.

“There’s a silent auction if you’re interested.”

I shake my head. “Auctions, like gambling, make me profoundly uncomfortable.”

He laughs. Waiters appear with our food, salmon with asparagus and nests of fried potatoes, and our wine glasses are never empty, waiters appearing and disappearing soundlessly.

“People are much more free with their checkbooks when they’ve had a lot to drink,” Sebastian explains.

When they finally clear our plates, the band begins to play and Sebastian is the first to stand, offering me his hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, and my chest swells because I can’t believe the adoration in his eyes, the absolute, undeniable love I see whenever he looks at me and I place my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor, too enamored with the man to think about how nervous dancing in front of a packed room would normally make me feel.

He holds me close, his hand on my low back, skin against skin, his touch electric, as he leads me across the parquet floors with elegant, practiced strides and I feel like I’m floating, my dress whispering around my ankles.

“Thank you,” I whisper and he gazes down on me, his eyes burning into me, his footsteps never faltering.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

He kisses me and I know people are staring but I don’t care. I’ve never been this happy in my life.

After several songs, we return to our table for dessert, a decadent olive oil chocolate mousse with flecks of sea salt and I feel Sebastian’s hand tensing on my thigh, where it’s been resting most of the night.

“Everything okay?” I ask between bites and see his jaw twitch for a brief second and then he’s smiling at me.

“How could anything be wrong when I have you here?”

“I never took you for the gushy romantic type,” I tease.

“I never was.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I finally say and he just grins.

“Let’s go home.” And suddenly, nothing sounds better than going home. To our home.

“Let me run to the bathroom first,” I say, grabbing my clutch from the back of my chair. “Too much champagne.”

“Don’t be too long.”

Turns out, peeing in a floor length gown is no easy task. In fact, it’s nearly impossible. And it requires a hell of a lot more lady-like coordination than I possess after a couple glasses of champagne.

Note to self: refrain from consuming liquids when wearing impossible dresses.

I can’t believe that Sebastian actually asked me to move in with him. Everything has moved so quickly between us. What started as a business proposition has changed into something else entirely. And yet, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. Sebastian isn’t the only one who hates sleeping apart. I feel complete in his bed. Our bed, I remind myself, grinning.

When I met Sebastian at Gramercy, the most I’d hoped for was a fling. Some good memories to look back on later when my life returned to normal. And now, this is normal.

The bathroom attendant passes me a hand towel to dry my hands as the bathroom door swings open and an elegant brunette steps in. She’s stunning. Dark hair pouring over her tanned shoulders and it’s hard not to stare with the plunging red gown she’s wearing. She looks like money, but then, glancing at myself in the mirror, so do I tonight. No one would look at me and think, I bet she was a barista a few weeks ago.

The woman in red looks me up and down, and I don’t know what it is about the way she’s looking at me, but suddenly this opulent bathroom feels too small. I ball up the hand towel and throw it in the wicker basket beneath the sink, smiling at the bathroom attendant and step towards the door, but the statuesque brunette continues standing in front of the door, blocking my exit.

“Excuse me,” I mumble, suddenly feeling very short even in four-inch heels.

This woman belongs here. I can see it in her eyes. This is her world. The world she grew up in. Sebastian may make me feel like I belong here, but next to her, I feel like an interloper. Cinderella at the ball only moments before the strike of the bell.

She smiles but there’s no warmth in her dark eyes. “I don’t think we’ve met. Katrina Casal,” she says, reaching out a slender hand. I feel sick to my stomach, realizing I know exactly what she’s going to say before she opens her mouth again, but I’m praying I’m wrong. I have to be wrong. Because this definitely can’t be happening. “Sebastian Casal’s wife.”

Chapter Forty-Five

She gives me a cruel sneer. “And you must be Danielle. Seba has told me so much about you.”

My eyes must be as wide as saucers because Katrina just lets out a metallic laugh. “Oh, honey, did he forgot to mention me again?” She seems almost amused while I feel dirty. Like there’s a layer of filth covering me.

The bathroom attendant’s eyes are burning a hole into my back but I’m frozen in place. Katrina puts a hand on her hip and I can see the enormous diamond ring glittering on her finger. She catches me looking at it and smiles cruelly.

“I always tell him he has to be up front from the start, but why would he listen to me, I’m just his silly little wife.” She shrugs. “Come by for a drink one night. I’d love to find out what my husband sees in you.”

Her crude suggestion snaps me out of my daze and I mumble something and push past her, her shrill laughter filling my ears, and it’s only when I feel the cold night air hit my face that I realize I’m standing outside and the doorman is offering to hail me a cab. I nod numbly, hugging my arms around my chest.

I want to get as far away from this hotel as possible.

I think I might be sick.

The way she looked at me. Like I was nothing. A fleck of dust on her arm that needed to be brushed away. Not even a nuisance. She didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the idea of her husband sleeping with another woman.

And that makes me feel all the more inconsequential.

The cabdriver asks me where to and I pause for a moment. I want to go back to Brooklyn. Back home. But I need to get my things from Sebastian’s, while he’s still out. I can’t face him. The idea of being in the same room as him, being in that apartment with him. If I don’t get my things now, I know I never will.

My phone begins ringing when I’m almost to the loft and just seeing Sebastian’s name on the screen is like a stab in my side. I silence the phone. I just want to get my things and go home.

The phone starts ringing again.

Shame washes over me. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have thought Sebastian actually loved me? Actually wanted me to be with him? Maybe it was all some sick joke on his part? Make the poor girl fall in love with him, just to prove that he could.

I never took Sebastian as cruel, but what do I really know about him?

Look at the arrangement Henri and Elodie have. Maybe Sebastian and his wife have a similar agreement.

When I squeeze my eyes shut, I keep seeing that boyish delight on Sebastian’s face when I told him I’d move in with him. How could it be feigned? How could it be a lie? I can’t imagine him doing this intentionally, can’t imagine him humiliating me like this, and yet…I’m shaking as I stare at my phone.

“You going to get that?” the cabdriver barks and I silence it.

You have a very beautiful wife
. I hit send, feeling petty and small, and then turn off my phone. I’m furious, and I want to hold onto that anger because without it, I know I’ll dissolve into tears and I’d rather be angry than hysterically crying and those seem to be the only two options.

I ask the cabbie to wait outside while I grab my things, telling him I’ll only be a minute. Upstairs, I throw my computer and books into a tote bag, leaving everything else behind.

I drop the keys on the counter and walk out the door.

It isn’t until I slam the taxi door behind me that I start to cry.

Chloe is in the living room, watching television when I come in. She takes one look at my makeup stained face and shoots out of her seat.

“What happened?”

“Sebastian,” I start and then dissolve into tears again. Her arms are around me and she’s leading me towards the couch. “I need to get out of this dress,” I hiccup and she turns me, pulling down the zipper and I let the dress fall to the ground, kicking it away. I’d felt so beautiful putting it on earlier and now just looking at it makes me feel cheap.