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Whether this was a trap or she was genuinely interested in my opinion, I didn’t care. I’d had enough. I leaned back in my seat, toying with the napkin on the table. “Women hold all the cards.” Giselle sucked in a sharp breath, my admission unexpected. “Now tell me why you called. I don’t think it was to relive your fourteenth birthday party.”
Her nose wrinkled, the first hint of indecision in her eyes before they steeled. “Elan Dupas.” I didn’t miss the disdain in her voice. “Ever heard of him?”
“I know of him,” I returned vaguely, sipping my whiskey.
She waited on me to elaborate, but I was far too skilled at this game. It didn’t take her long to start talking again. “He has, for all intents and purposes, blackballed me in the industry. I can’t get a job.IfI can get anyone to speak to me, they disappear before we seal a deal. It’s like he’s stalking me, putting a stop to any potential contract I may have. I want to change that. I want to bury him,” she finished vindictively. She had gotten that streak from her father. I’d helped him put a number of his enemies out of business.
Elan Dupas was one of the higher ups at an international modeling agency, known for scouting the best talent and being a general pain in the ass. He was the man to be aligned with if a model wanted contracts with the prestigious fashion houses. I knew him, our paths having crossed on numerous occasions over the years. I also knew the owner of the agency he worked for quite well. He was fond of my work. I found out shit that nobody else knew. Donato said not even God knew the things I did most of the time.
“Why has Elan put a target on your back?” If she didn’t give me a straight answer, I’d be forced to lose my tact. Giselle was the exact type Elan would want in his portfolio. Something had gone down, or he’d be salivating over her.
“I dumped his son,” she replied bluntly.
Jesus Christ.I was in the middle of a teenage drama. “I take it that it wasn’t amicable.” I struggled to hold on to what remaining patience I had left, hoping to find more in my glass of whiskey. I hadn’t intended to have another, but I was re-thinking that.
“He made fun of my family’s business. Called me the tractor queen. So I left him.” She straightened and tossed the remaining champagne down her throat.
There had to be more to it than that. “If you want my help, you have to be completely honest. I don’t think you met, went out, then he made fun of you, and you left him.” Truthfully, I didn’t give a shit what had happened, but I wasn’t going to piss off Elan Dupas for no good reason.
The waiter brought our appetizer, and we ordered another round of drinks. I was going to need it.
“Fine,” she said once he’d disappeared, letting out a huff of annoyance. “We were together for ten months.”
“Where did you meet?”
“At a party here in the city. We both go to Parsons.” Her eyes had gone soft, the slightest trace of a smile on her lips. “We hit it off right away, were inseparable practically from the second we met,” she said wistfully, the flirtatious vixen she’d been earlier nowhere to be seen.
“So everything was fine between you and Scott for ten months?”
Her lips parted, a slight gasp escaping.That’s right, sweetheart. I know my shit.Giselle’s surprise that I knew her boyfriend’s name turned into satisfaction, as if she’d confirmed I was the right person to help her.
“Yes. Perfect, really. Until I got paired with a guy in my fashion design course for a project. It’s a small class and a huge project. Scott hated that I was spending so much time working on it, especially with another guy. He’d have been fine if it had been a girl. So, anyway—” Giselle waved dismissively. “My apartment is a lot bigger than Henri’s, so we worked there. Scott came in as I tripped over a bolt of fabric and fell on top of Henri. It was totally innocent, though it looked really bad.”
Our drinks arrived, and I dismissed the waiter. I wanted to hear the rest of this story before we ordered, though I had already pieced together what had happened.
“Go on,” I prompted.
“Scott was hurt, I could tell, and I didn’t blame him for that, but he called me a tractor queen and left before I had the chance to explain. Not only was it an accident, but Henri is gay. Like, just-got-married-to-another-man gay. I showed him the pictures of Henri and his husband. Then I told him to go to hell, and I’ve refused to speak to him since. I can’t be with a man who doesn’t trust me.” Giselle twisted the stem of her glass between her fingers, her face sullen.
“Has he tried to contact you?”
“Not in a few days. He kept leaving messages and texts apologizing, but he hurt me.”
Shit.Her eyes glassed over with tears. I couldn’t take a crying woman. Not right now. I simply wasn’t equipped to handle it. “Do you love him?” As soon as I asked the question, I was tempted to feel my crotch and make sure my dick was still there. Vivian had softened me, but not to the point where I went around discussing feelings. What the hell was I going to say when she answered me?
“Yes,” she whispered, a tear escaping down her cheek.
My gut twisted. What was happening to me? This compassion had to stem from the shit that had gone down with Vivian. It was her I was seeing across from me, not Giselle.
To Giselle’s credit, she dabbed the corners of her eyes and pulled herself together quickly.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“He insulted me. If I let him get away with it now, he’ll do it over and over.” That actually wasn’t a terrible assessment. Pretty smart really. But in this case, I wasn’t sure that was completely true.
“Have you ever said something you wished you could take back?”
“Not to him,” she insisted petulantly, folding her arms.
