Chapter 28
twenty-eight
EDEN
The Hamptons are beautiful on this late August evening as West drives us toward the party. The air outside is thick with salt and honeysuckle, the kind of sweetness that sneaks through the open window and clings to my skin.
Sunlight spills low over wide, tree-lined roads, where the houses sit behind stone walls and iron gates, all white clapboard and perfectly manicured lawns.
In the back seat, Bennett’s knees knock the leather, his nose practically pressed to the glass as he gawks. “Holy shit,” he mutters. “People actually live here?”
“They don’t live here,” West replies mildly. “They summer here. They spend the rest of the year elsewhere.”
Bennett lets out a huff. “So these places are empty for half the year?” he asks. “You think anybody would notice if I break in and squat in one?”
West shakes his head, trying to hide his amusement. “They’d notice. And they’d arrest you before you even made it past the kitchen. The owners spend big bucks on security.”
“Shame.” Bennett sits back with a dramatic sigh.
Beside me, West’s hand skims my bare thigh under the hem of my dress, his thumb pressing into the soft skin. It makes my pulse jump.
He’s been pulling long shifts at the resort all week, just to make the time to come here. So I haven’t seen much of him. And I’ve missed him, even though he’s been climbing into bed with me when he gets home every night.
He looks tired, but his hold on my thigh is steady. Even when he’s exhausted, he can’t stop touching me.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen. The Fitzgerald Family Chat lights it up, and I try not to groan.
HUDSON: Did you and West make it to the Hamptons okay?
I let out a soft breath. West told me not to worry, he’d taken care of everything with Hudson. And I let him, because I’m a coward at heart.
EDEN: Yes, we’re all fine. Thanks for checking in.
AUTUMN: Notice how she says ‘we?’
I let out a groan, because my sister is a pain in the ass when she knows a secret.
“Problems?” West murmurs, still holding my thigh.
“Just the family chat,” I tell him and he lets out a soft laugh.
“If it helps, I got a message from Hudson earlier asking me to watch your every move. He doesn’t want you getting seduced by an actor. I promised him I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
ASHER: Who is ‘we’? Where is Eden? Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?
AUTUMN: She’s in the Hamptons with West and Bennett, you doofus. I told you about this when we were at the coffee shop, remember? Mylene was ranting about Eileen’s new porch and how it was a waste of money.
ZACH: Those two still aren’t talking, huh?
AUTUMN: Not unless glaring at each other from across the street counts as talking.
I close the chat, relieved it’s moved away from me. It doesn’t stop me from squirming in the seat, though. I’m stupidly nervous. I have no experience with these kinds of parties. Ones that cost hundreds of thousands to throw.
And, honestly, I also hate the thought of all that money being spent on a few hours of entertainment, when the world is dying out there.
But I’ve promised West I’ll be good. Or as good as I can be.
I have a beautiful dress I’ve borrowed from Autumn zipped up in a garment bag, ready to put on when we arrive.
It’s with the garment bags holding the suits that Bennett and West packed.
Apparently, all out of towners have somewhere to get ready at the house, because god forbid we head right in and party with jeans on.
Ten minutes later, we join a line of cars snaking their way up to the massive house set against the backdrop of the ocean.
“Jesus, is that Eleanor Carvel?” Bennett asks, winding down his window to poke his head out like a panting labrador to gawk at the people going into the house. “And Richard Sawyer?”
“If you’re going to act like that every time you see a movie star, you’ll be exhausted in ten minutes,” West says mildly.
I shift in my seat again. Why did I agree to this? Bennett’s practically vibrating with excitement, West is so cool and calm I feel like he’s about to enter a boardroom not a party, and I’m feeling like a complete fraud waiting to be unmasked.
“It’s going to be fine,” West murmurs, like he can read my mind.
“Remind me why we’re here again.”
“Because it’s good for business. Bennett needs to network and I want to see you in a dress.”
My pulse skips. I know he likes me in his t-shirts, but dressing up is fun, especially when you’re dressing up for a man like West Abbott.
We reach the front of the line, and the valet approaches. West gives my thigh one final squeeze before he opens the door and hands the driver the keys.
The next five minutes are a blur. A butler ushers us toward the steps, staff swooping in to collect our garment bags before I can even protest. The marble foyer smells faintly of lilies and polish, every surface gleaming, every corner busy with housekeepers straightening cushions and wait staff ferrying trays of champagne flutes.
The sound of string music drifts down from the mezzanine, mixing with the faint rumble of laughter and conversation spilling in from the back of the house. Bennett cranes his neck to take it all in, while West moves like he belongs here.
A woman in black silk and pearls sweeps down the stairs, clipboard in hand, directing us toward a hallway lined with doors. “Dressing rooms are through there. Ladies on the left, gentlemen on the right.”
Bennett gawks at her like she’s stepped off a movie set, then stumbles after the staff carrying his suit bag.
West watches him go, shaking his head. “It’s like dropping a kid off at summer camp. I half expect him to lose a shoe.”
I bite back a laugh, nerves buzzing in my stomach, and follow the woman toward the ladies’ rooms.
It’s weird how the atmosphere changes completely when I step into the room full of women in various stages of undress. Every one of them is beautiful, cheekboned to the nine, parading around either naked or pretty close to it, unashamed of their perfect bodies.
“Would you like to take a shower?” Pearls-and-Silk asks.
“Are they communal?” I frown.
“Oh no. We have lots of private bathrooms.” She smiles at me. “You take the one marked ‘pink’ and I’ll hang up your dress. There’s a robe in there you can use if you wish.”
I nod and head to the bathroom, grabbing my toiletries from my luggage as I pull out my phone and message West.
I can’t decide if I’m in hell or Bennett’s idea of heaven. There are naked women everywhere. – Eden x
Are YOU naked? – West x
I cough out a laugh, because he might be my biggest obsession, but at heart he’s still a man. A very horny man.
No, but I will be in five minutes. It’s shower time. – Eden x
Send me a photo. Or a video. Whatever. There are about five guys trying to broker deals in here. And somebody’s already set up a poker game in the corner. I need a distraction. – West x
Hang tight there, buddy. And no pics. You’ll just have to wait for the real thing. – Eden x
By the time I’m out of the shower, my skin still overheated from the powerful spray, the dressing room has quieted down. There are hair stylists and makeup artists waiting for the next victim at their stations, but apart from their steady chatter, it feels almost serene in here compared to before.
I find my dress hanging on a rail in the corner, and of course Pearls-and-Silk appears as if summoned, slipping it from my hands before I can protest.
The gown is one of Autumn’s. Midnight blue silk, cut on the bias so it clings in all the right places without feeling tight.
The neckline dips into a soft V, not too low, but enough to hint.
But the back is the real showstopper, a deep scoop that leaves my skin bare from my shoulder blades down.
I trail my fingers over the fabric. Of course Autumn picked this for me to wear.
Sophisticated, sleek, the kind of thing that whispers money without screaming for attention.
I stare at my reflection, half amazed, half unsettled. Who is this perfectly dressed woman staring back at me?
“That’s beautiful,” a soft voice says.
I turn to see one of the most stunning women I’ve ever laid eyes on.
She’s tall, with legs that seem to go on forever, poured into a pale champagne gown that clings to her like it was custom-made for her body.
Her hair is sleek and glossy, pinned into an artful twist that shows off the sharp line of her cheekbones.
Even her makeup is perfect – smoky eyes, lips painted in the exact shade of rose that says expensive without trying.
“Thank you.” I give her a smile. “Your dress is gorgeous, too.”
“You’re with West Abbott, right?” she asks, her tone light, but there’s a sharpness beneath it I can’t quite place.
I pull my lip between my teeth and glance down at the ring on my left finger. West insisted we both put them on before we left Liberty. Her gaze follows mine, and for a second her smile stills. A tiny crease appears at the edge of her mouth, but her eyes don’t move. They don’t give anything away.
I wonder if it’s Botox, or if she’s simply trained herself to never show weakness. Still, her gaze lingers on the diamond for a moment too long.
“Lucky you,” she murmurs. “West is… unforgettable.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer, just sweeps out of the room, her floral perfume wafting through the air, as I try to shake the feeling that she just staked some kind of weird claim to my husband.
“Mrs. Abbott?” a voice calls out. For a second I don’t respond, because I completely forget that’s my name.
But then I look up to see a stylist beckoning me over to her station.
I walk over, a weird twist still pulling at my stomach, and she smiles widely at me, then takes my left hand in hers.
“What a beautiful ring,” she coos, staring at the diamond band. “Your husband must adore you.”
I take a breath and let her guide me into the chair, because in ten minutes I’ll find out exactly how he feels when he sees me like this.