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“What about the dark web?” Lolly steps close so Pippa will hear her.
“Oh, Lolly, good morning. Sorry to interrupt. In answer to your question, yes, we have a reach that goes that deep.”
“How?”
Again, Pippa heaves with laughter. “Shall we meet for tea? I’ll explain. It’s not for the phone.”
We arrange a time and place and end our call. I want to refresh the TMZ page for the next hour while Pippa’speopleremove all mention of me and Lolly from the internet, but I want Lolly to be more at ease, so I do not scratch the itch of my curiosity.
She’s still scrolling through the pictures. How can there be so many? It was a single night. One masked ball with a stupid play about a man who became a donkey. No one could be interested in this. “You signed her breasts?”
I take her phone from her. It’s all there in lurid color, the pictures of the couple who asked me to sign flesh when I was headed to Juliette’s penthouse suite. “Oh!”
“Oh?”
“They seemed so nice. So genuine.”
“What else haven’t you told me?” She folds her arms over her chest, her face closed. “Let’s get it all out. No more surprises.”
“That’s it. They got on the elevator. He asked me to… No, she asked me—then he encouraged me—to sign her bosom.”
Lolly snorts. “Bosom?”
“They were charming. It was strange, but not so strange that it could never happen. Things like this happen to Alex all the time.”
Lolly finds her dress and pulls it on over my shirt. “You’re not Alex.”
“Lolly!” She already has her shoes on.
“But you are a liar.”
I reach for her arm, but she wrenches it out of my grip.
“You lied, Mariano. Right now. You said there was nothing when I showed you the picture ofher, but then it turned out there was somebosominvolved.” She has her hand on the door handle.
It’s all spinning so fast and it’s out of control, but it’s simply nonsense except for the fact that I did balk and fail to tell her that the bosom was signed. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
“I don’t do liars, Mariano. I don’t do scandalouspictures.I can’t.” The tears spill down her face. She opens the door. “Fuck me for being so stupid and falling for it. I can’t do this.”
The door slams and my world crashes down around my ears. “Can’t do what? Us? Absolutely not. That’s not how this goes.” I must chase her—but dammit. I can’t go out—I can’t go out while there are photographers waiting to make something of nothing. I can’t sully her reputation, too. And yet, I must risk it. For her. For us.
I’m yanking on pants when my phone rings. Pippa again.
“All done, my friend. Gone and forgotten. Told you it would all turn out well. See you at four.”
But it hasn’t. It’s gone from bad to worse to the very worst outcome I could imagine. It spiraled so fast, and over nothing. What sent her spinning like that? Lolly believes me a liar. I amnota liar, but how on earth am I going to prove a negative?
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Lolly Benoit. The Great House. The Cotswolds, England.
By the time I hurtle down the stairs and out one of the side doors of the mansion, my ears are ringing and I’m hyperventilating and I’ve already been seen by at least five staff members or guests—and who knows who else might be lurking, snapping photos to haunt me with. Some part of me knows I shouldn’t be running—especially not with a dripping wet dress sucking at and sticking to my legs, and especially not wearing Mariano’s shirt under said dress—but I can’t get my body to listen to that tiny rational voice that says I’m drawing even more attention to myself.
The fleet of posh vehicles in the graveled car park speaks to the kind of guests—and their debauched states—that turned up for last night’s fête. I scurry for the closest one—a sleekly rounded silver Porsche. Hopefully the fact that so many haven’t left yet means they’re still abed and won’t see the photos online before Pippa’speople—whoever they are—expunge them from the interwebs.
But I have to get away from Mariano and his lie and the blaring headline: MYSTERY WOMAN HELPS POLO STAR GET AHEAD. They’re bad enough on their own, but they stir up all those memories, which just makes them gut-churningly awful. If my name gets attached to whatever Mariano has done and whoever he’s done it with, then everything I’ve been working for is ruined. I’ll be worse off than gritless Jonnie Paiper, who Mariano told our students about during our last lesson. Even Mummy won’t be able to keep me as an employee if the identity ofthe womanis revealed to be me. Having a blow job queen as an employee doesn’t exactly fit Mummy’s brand or the clientele she aims to attract. And Mummy’s all about fresh starts and no stain on her reputation. She can’t have damaged goods on her staff. Especially not her own daughter.
A sob escapes me. I’ve already lost Mariano—not that I everhadhim, it turns out, despite all his professions of love and forever and always. Because if he’s willing to lie about small things then I can never trust him with the big things. And those were the biggest. But the worst thing is if this whole situation gets worse—and I know from experience that italwaysgets worse for the woman involved—then I’ve all but lost Velveteen, too.
