Chapter 27
27
KAIRA
T he restaurant exuded luxury, from its shimmering chandeliers to the gold cutlery. It was a lot like the first one he’d taken me to. It was fancy and meant to impress. The staff were all well-trained and knew how to be invisible while keeping their customers fed with a steady supply of drinks. Roman’s friends, dressed in designer suits and dresses that could pay for a new car, sat around the table with an effortless charm. It was the kind of wealth I had only seen in movies or on magazine covers.
And now I was part of it—temporarily, at least. I was getting an up-close and personal view of how the one percent lived. I had been incredibly nervous but it wasn’t so bad.
The group was already deep in conversation when we arrived, but Roman’s hand on the small of my back kept me grounded. He introduced me as his fiancée, and I was met with a mix of curiosity and intrigue. They seemed more surprised by me than disgusted. In the back of my mind, I had worked myself up to think they were going to point and laugh the moment they laid eyes on me.
“So, you’re the mystery girl,” one of them said, a dark-haired man with a British accent and a smile that seemed too perfect to be real.
“Am I a mystery girl?” I replied with a smile.
“No one saw you coming.”
I smiled nervously, unsure how to respond. They weren’t what I expected. Not cold or dismissive like I feared. Instead, they welcomed me into their conversations. They didn’t leave me out or ignore my comments.
“I’ve got to know,” another chimed in, a stunning woman with sharp cheekbones and a laugh that turned heads from nearby tables. “How does someone keep Roman interested? The man is like a cat. Aloof, temperamental, and impossible to pin down. I know many women that have tried and failed.”
Just get him to sign a contract. I laughed awkwardly, hoping Roman didn’t hear. He was deep in conversation with another guest. He glanced over every now and then like he was checking on me, which I found to be very sweet. Or he was just making sure I didn’t sneeze my way into another crisis.
I found the woman’s question unnerving because I heard the question she wasn’t asking. Or my own insecurities were making me read more into it. She was wondering how a man like Roman managed to get captivated by a woman like me.
“Stop, Chloe,” another woman said. “Look at her. Do you really have to ask how she keeps him interested?”
I smiled, but again, I was reading between the lines.
The same woman turned her attention to me with a warm smile. “You are a scrumptious slice of pumpkin pie.”
She seemed genuine. I was going to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Thank you, I think.”
“Easy, Sara,” Chloe said with a laugh. “She’s not on the menu.”
I sipped my cocktail and listened as the conversation moved on to yachts and villas in the south of France. They talked about stories of summer escapades. As I listened, a part of me grew more aware of the differences in our lives. It wasn’t just about having money, but how one carried themselves within these circles. They all had impeccable manners and seemed to know everyone.
“Kaira, have you ever been to Monaco?” asked the man with the British accent, now known to me as Simon.
“No,” I admitted, slightly embarrassed. “I’ve never left the States.”
Their surprise seemed mixed with a tinge of admiration rather than judgment.
“You’ll have to get Roman to take you to the Maldives,” Chloe said.
“Private of course,” Sara said.
That started another conversation about Simon’s new private jet. I listened intently, taking mental notes on everything. They would be useful to have filed away, in case I needed the details for a story. Yet despite feeling like an outsider in this opulent world, their openness made it less intimidating.
They weren’t bragging. They were just talking about their lives. I didn’t blame them or find it snobbish. It was their world. They didn’t know any different. It would be the same thing if Carla and I talked about our favorite thrift store and the amazing finds. That kind of thing would be foreign to anyone else.
“Kaira, you must tell us about yourself,” Simon prompted after a lull in the conversation. “Where did you grow up?”
“Philadelphia,” I answered.
“Wow! How did you get all the way out here?”
I smiled. “I always dreamed of living in the City of Angels. I wanted the sunshine and beaches and all the beautiful people.”
“You found us,” Sara said and everyone laughed.
“Is your family still in Philadelphia?” Simon asked.
“Yes.” I smiled and nodded. “I try to get out there to visit as often as I can.”
“Where did you go to school?” Chloe asked.
They weren’t asking about my high school. I knew they were all Oxford and Ivy League. “I didn’t go to college.”
Simon grinned and held up his hand for a high-five. “Me either. Well, I tried, but I kept getting kicked out.”
“I got a degree in art history,” Chloe said with a giggle. “I can tell you the difference between a Monet and a Manet, but otherwise, it’s useless.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension I felt eased a bit. It was refreshing to hear someone from their circle admitting to something so ordinary, so human.
The conversation shifted naturally from one topic to another, and soon I found myself sharing funny stories of my misadventures in Los Angeles, which seemed to delight and intrigue them as much as their tales of exotic travels did for me.
I couldn’t help but notice how different this was from my usual life. I was used to being invisible—overlooked in grocery store lines, passed by on sidewalks, ignored at bars. But here, with Roman’s friends, it was like I mattered. If only it wasn’t because I was his fiancée. Or maybe because I was so different from all of them. I doubted they ever sat down and actually talked to someone like me before. But I didn’t hold that against them. It wasn’t like I went out of my way to talk to their type either.
“Do you remember that time Roman got arrested in Monaco?” Simon asked with a smile.
“Oh my God,” Chloe groaned.
“What happened?” I asked. I wanted to hear more about Roman, behind the stiff, serious man I knew him to be.
Chloe rolled her eyes playfully before starting the story. “It was absolutely ridiculous,” she began, shaking her head. “We were all at this fabulous party on a yacht, right in the heart of Monaco during the Grand Prix. The champagne was flowing, music was pounding—just a crazy night.”
“Roman was in high spirits, to say the least,” Simon said. “Started bragging about how he could outswim anyone back to shore.”
Chloe laughed. “And before we knew it, he stripped down to his trunks, dived into the water, and started swimming. It was dark, and everyone was cheering him on.”
Simon picked up the story, his eyes glittering with mischief. “He nearly made it too. But then, out of nowhere, the coast guard pulls up. Apparently, swimming back to shore at night during the Grand Prix is not exactly legal.”
Everyone burst into laughter, and Chloe shook her head again. “They pulled him out of the water and onto their boat. Roman was so charismatic, even then. He ended up charming the officers with his broken French.”
“He managed to get off with just a warning.”
“We happened to be in London and he tried to climb the statue at Piccadilly Circus for a dare,” Simon continued. “The police weren’t quite as charmed that time.”
“Ended up spending the night in a cell,” Chloe added. “As you can imagine, there was copious amounts of alcohol involved that time as well.”
I was enthralled by these tales of Roman’s wilder days. This was a side of him I never saw—carefree, reckless, even daring. It made me see him in a different light.
They continued to tell stories about Roman’s drunken escapades when he was younger. They talked about how he once bought an entire bar a round of drinks after winning big in Vegas.
I glanced at him, still engrossed in the conversation, and tried to reconcile the version of Roman they described with the man I knew.
“Speaking of celebrations,” someone said, turning to me. “Do you have something planned for next week?”
I blinked. “Next week?”
“For his birthday, of course,” the woman said, her diamond earrings catching the light.
My stomach sank. His birthday ? No one in the house had mentioned it. I pasted on a smile and nodded as if I’d known all along. “Of course. We’ve got it covered.”
Later, when the women suggested a bathroom trip, I hesitated. But before I could decline, they were already rising, taking me along like I was one of their own. That was one thing that was the same in my world. Women went to the bathroom in packs.
Roman glanced my way as the ladies led me away. I offered a small smile, letting him know everything was okay.
The restroom was nicer than my entire apartment. Marble counters, gold fixtures, and a lounge area with plush chairs and mirrors framed by soft lighting. There was an attendant standing discreetly at the door, ready to provide a fresh towel or whatever.
The women lined up at the vanities, expertly touching up their makeup. I sat down and opened my clutch, my drugstore lipstick suddenly feeling out of place among their designer brands.
I unscrewed the cap, hiding the label in my palm as I applied it. If they noticed, they didn’t say anything. They were too busy chatting about career updates, social dramas, and, surprisingly, Roman.
“He’s a hard one to figure out,” Sara said, examining her reflection. “I don’t know how you managed it. I tried once, and he shut me out faster than I could blink.”
“Same,” a girl named Barb added, smoothing her perfect hair. “There must be something special about you.” She winked at me, her tone light but sincere.
I swallowed, unsure if they were teasing me or not. My insecurities flared. These women were stunning—movie-star gorgeous with Botox and filler, flawless skin, and bodies that could make anyone feel inadequate.
“How did you manage to get that rock on your finger?” Chloe asked, lifting my hand to admire the ring. “It’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“You’re a lucky girl,” Barb chimed in. “We all know Roman can be a bit… what’s the word?”
“Abrasive?” Sara suggested.
“Exactly. Abrasive. But we also know he has a good heart. He just guards it fiercely. But not with you.” Barb smiled warmly. “You must have some sort of superpower. We’ve all been hoping someone like you would come along to remind him who he really is.”
Their kindness surprised me. I’d expected them to be dismissive, maybe even cruel. But instead, they seemed genuine, even hopeful. I felt bad for judging them before I ever met them.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’m not sure why it works, but it just… does.”
They nodded approvingly, and soon we headed back to the table.
Roman met me halfway. I could see the concern on his face. “You okay?”
I nodded. “I really like your friends. They’re nice.”
“You sound surprised.”
I smiled up at him, letting the moment linger before replying. “I was expecting stuck-up rich assholes like you.”
The table burst into laughter. I hadn’t meant for anyone to overhear the comment, but they did. Even Roman cracked a smile, shaking his head at me.
It was surreal, feeling like I belonged here, even for a moment.
Just wait until Carla hears about this. She’s going to lose her mind.