Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
JULIETTE
I ’m having a good time with Alejandro, who has so many recipes to teach me. Unfortunately, we can only make two today because I have to teach him how to make a cake also. Today, he’ll teach me how to make the puttanesca and ribolita while I teach him how to make black forest cake. Alejandro goes first and in two hours, we have a meal ready.
“God, I’m so excited to try it,” I say, setting my plate of puttanesca on the kitchen counter.
“Hold on,” Alejandro says. “It is best paired with a wine. I know just the right wine for this.”
I wait in the kitchen, and he excuses himself to go to the wine cellar to get wine. Now that I’m alone, I find that Hudson hasn’t crossed my mind. Yet, immediately, I realize that the fact falls on its head, and I start to think about him. I wonder what he’s up to. He told me he had a couple of meetings today and would be back at night. Would he be meeting with Jasmine again? The earthy goddess. Jealousy burns through me like green fire, and I hope Alejandro will come back fast.
I don’t want to think about Hudson. I want to think of the meal before me. I haven’t had as much fun as I had today with Alejandro. I did something new, something exciting. Once we’re done with this meal, we’ll start to bake. That will take the rest of the day and then we’ll get to making dinner. It’s been a while since I dipped my fingers into flour, and I can’t wait to bake.
Maybe my time here at the Dubois ranch house won’t be so bad after all. As long as I spend it with Alejandro. I know the possibility of that is slim, but my fear is satisfied when Alejandro walks back into the kitchen with Phillipa. She’s dressed in a riding getup, which explains why I haven’t seen her the whole day. There’s a look in her eyes that I can’t place, and for a moment, I want to feel sorry for her. Here I am, the girl who has stolen the man she adores, waltzing around the house, messing up the kitchen like I own the place.
“I see you’re having a splendid time,” Phillipa says, joining me across the counter.
“Miss Juliette and I have had a busy morning,” Alejandro answers innocently, not aware of the sarcasm in the tone of the question. “She’s made puttanesca. I taught her how to. She’ll teach me how to bake black forest cake soon enough.”
“Oh, you are domestic. That must be it, then, huh? Hudson wants to marry you and stick you in the house, filling your stomach up with babies.”
Now, Alejandro hears the spite, and he wonders what that is about. He doesn’t speak up against his mistress, though, which I appreciate. I don’t want him to get in trouble because of me. He sets the bottle of wine on the table and steps back. I watch Phillipa intently. She wants to hurt me with her words, and while her face is mucked with hate, I can’t help but see the pain behind the mask. The thing she mocks me for is what she’ll kill to have.
“I have no intention of becoming a baby machine. Hudson knows that.”
“So, what’s all this then? The baking, the cooking?”
“I plan on opening a bakery soon,” I tell her, holding my head high. She must not have expected that reply because she looks lost for a moment and can’t find a reply.
“I think she’ll run a good business,” Alejandro says, picking up a hint to rejoin the conversation. He picks up his bottle of wine to open it. “Do you want to join us for, well, I can’t call it breakfast or lunch, Miss Phillipa?
Phillipa glares at me, hate wafting off her like smoke from a fire. After a while, she smiles and shakes her head.
“No, I think I’ll just go bathe and have a good nap. And by the way, Juliette, you’ve become something of a star. Do you know that?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask her.
Now, she grins, enjoying the moment. She chuckles and walks away, not providing me any additional clue. I glance up at Alejandro, who looks just as confused, and I run up the stairs past Phillipa, who is still chuckling. I get into the suite and shut the door behind me. Immediately, I pick up my phone and find out I’ve had multiple calls from my mother, Sophie and Hudson.
God, what is going on? I wonder as panic sets in. I try to open my phone, but my hands are shaking, and I have to take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself. No one is in danger; I feel confident about that. Finally, I open my phone and go online to see what all the hullabaloo is about. I get a pop-up notification and immediately click on it. Someone has written an article about me and my engagement to Hudson.
Oh god, no, I whisper as I read through the news. They described me as unknown, ordinary, and a possible mismatch for the billionaire playboy Hudson Sinclair. They even go so far as predicting a breakup very soon as I won’t be able to handle the level of fame that comes with dating and marrying a billionaire.
A paragraph in the article jumps out at me.
I don’t know what either of them is thinking. This relationship is doomed before it even begins. Juliette, with the personality of a squeezed sponge, can in no way keep a man as sophisticated as Hudson Sinclair. Juliette. That is all there is to know about her. Juliette Unknown.
Ouch.
It sounds to me like whoever wrote this article has some personal beef with me. I scroll to the end immediately, and I’m not shocked to see the writer’s credit.
Bentley.
That bitch, I curse under my breath and pick up the phone to call Hudson. I wonder what this means now. If we are out there and public, our relationship will be under more scrutiny. It won’t be long before someone finds out that Hudson and I have no prior relationship before At Your Service Agency sent me to be his temporary secretary.
Hudson picks up my call on the first ring.
“Where have you been?” he seems angry.
“Without my phone,” I say.
“Have you seen it?”
“And if by it, you mean the scalding description of me as, Juliette Unknown. Goddamnit, that isn’t my last name.”
“This isn’t a time for jokes, Juliette.”
“Joke? Oh, you think I’m joking? Of course, you think I am. They did describe you as the perfect gentleman, so all is peachy on your end.”
“All isn’t peachy, and disregard whatever adjectives were used in that write-up. You’re not a child. You know all of that is just for shock value.”
“Doesn’t make them less mean.”
“I didn’t know you had such a thin skin.”
“It’s that bitch Bent. God, how can one be so vile?”
“You two must have kicked it off nicely in high school.”
“Yeah, we were best friends. We made friendship bracelets and all that,” I say. “How are we going to deal with this Hudson?”
“I’ve thought about it, and there is nothing to deal with,” he says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, surprised. What does he mean there is nothing to deal with?
“We’ll go about our lives like the article was never published. You ignore these things, and they very much fizzle out on their own. And I think this helps us—it helps me.”
“How? How in the world does this help you?”
“Frank can’t have me marry his daughter now, not even if Phillipa insists on it. It’ll be ridicule for him. Because this, in a sense, lends validity to our engagement. People will repeat it so much it’ll become the truth.”
“People will ask questions.”
“Yes, but you know these people. They don’t ask any tangible questions. All they’re interested in is the juicy tidbits that’ll sell headlines. They’ll get that and nothing more.”
“What happens when this ruse is over then?”
“We go back to our lives, and if someday in the future someone wonders why we didn’t get married, I’ll simply talk about how our wants for the future didn’t align, and that’s that. I’m not an A-list celebrity, just some billionaire, so they won’t pursue any further story, and if they want to, I have ways of blocking them off.”
“You really have thought of everything, haven’t you?”
“Is that mockery I hear in your voice?”
“No, it’s a genuine wonder. So, why don’t you tell me what to tell my mother and my friend?”
Oh, God, my mother. She’ll be devastated. I broke Benny’s heart, and Sophie will wonder if I’ve lost my mind.
“That’s your headache to manage,” Hudson says. “I have to go.”