AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The doorbell rings, so I walk back through the house to answer it.
A tall Asian man pushes a garment bag at me and I take it reflexively. “I’m David,” he says in a clipped tone. “And this is Meg.”
I hadn’t noticed the blonde woman behind him. She smiles and waves and we both follow David as he storms through the house.
A couple of times I catch the cringe on his face as he glances at the art on the wall or the hard lines of furniture not meant to be used.
“Did my brother send you?” I ask when David stops in the living room.
“I don’t know your brother,” he says, glancing at his watch. “My boss sent me, and Mr. Sinclair needs you ready to go in twenty-eight minutes. Meg?”
“Is there a guest room we could use?” she asks.
I don’t know, but I lead the way. I hope Timothy is behind this and David isn’t ruffling through Nic’s underwear while Meg distracts me with her massive bag of—oh. She’s a stylist and I’m about to get a glow up.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’m rocking a hell of a smoky eye, my hair has been brought back to life after being flattened on my flight, and I’m wearing a little black dress by an Australian designer I haven’t heard of. And Louboutins.
I’m the daughter of a famous TV chef and I have a sizable amount of money in my bank account because of it. Everything I’m wearing I could afford to buy myself—I just don’t. I get my clothes from thrift stores or quirky shops, and I like them to be comfortable. This isn’t me, and I’m about to say so when Meg interrupts.
“This isn’t about impressing a man,” she says quickly. “There will be photographers outside, and this is about looking like you belong so no one will question what you’re doing there.”
“Doing where?” I whisper.
“The Hollywood Art Show and Auction,” she says with a smile, pushing a clutch into my hands. “Put your phone in here, whatever you need. We’d better go.”
David knocks on the door. “Car is here in two minutes.”
I slip my phone into the clutch. At David’s sharp warning, I hustle. Meg swipes everything into her bag and follows us out.
I arm the security system. As we walk out, a town car pulls up. The rear door opens andGabriel Sinclairsteps out, looking immaculate in a black suit.
“You must be Jessie,” he says with a smile, extending a hand.
I’ve met a lot of famous people through my mother and I’ve never been fazed, but Gabriel Sinclair is dazzling. He has this golden aura about him that feels so…perfect. Nic’s beautiful, but I knew him when he was a pimply teenager with barely any muscle. Gabriel Sinclair looks like he’s never suffered through a pimple in his life. Like he was born from sea-foam, already formed and perfect.
It has to be fake.
I shake his hand and he ushers me into the car. I barely remember to turn and thank Meg and David, who are climbing into a separate car.
As the car winds through LA traffic, Gabriel explains that Timothy put him up to this. He had an extra ticket because his agent always gets two. He attempts to make small talk, but I’m too bewildered to manage beyond one or two-word responses.
I can’t imagine my life like this. Trapped in Spanx under a dress that feels fragile, wearing shoes that are going to shred my feet, and traveling to some event where I’ll be photographed.
If Nic wants me back, this could be my life. I’d do it for him. Take my job remote, or find a new one if I had to. Move to LA.
Gabriel is still trying to talk to me, more out of a sense of obligation, I sense, than any actual desire to chat, and I try to focus, but I can’t. I’m on my way to Nic. My nerves are back to eating me alive.
Eventually, the car slows, then stops. Someone opens the door, and Gabriel climbs out first, offering me a hand.
“Follow my lead,” he says, and holy shit. This event is a lot bigger than I imagined. There’s a red carpet and photographers. Nothing like an awards show, but for a charity art auction?
Gabriel offers me his arm and I’m not sure if I should take it or not, but he did say to follow his lead and this is his world, not mine.
I wonder if Nic’s here already. I’m anxious to go in, but Gabe stops in front of someone with a camera, answering his question with a smile directed at me. “Oh, no. This is Jessica Foley—she’s an art expert, and she’s here to advise me tonight.”
I’m not an expert. Barely more than a hobbyist, but I don’t think I’m supposed to correct him. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. This wasn’t a part of my plan.
My plan is Nic, nothing else matters. So I smile for the cameras trained on us and nod when Gabriel tells them I’m the sister of a friend. We go way back and I did not help him with his submission but he wishes he’d thought to ask me.
