Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“D amn. They really are giving you the first-class treatment,” Jo said as we settled into the plush cocoon that was our seats.
I’d flown from France to New York, where I’d met up with my best friend, Josephine. Now, we were on a flight to Ixtapa, Mexico, to stay at the new Huxley Grand location.
Jo often accompanied me when I traveled for my blog. She had a popular YouStream channel where she posted about her life in a farmhouse in upstate New York. We’d been roommates in college and had been friends ever since.
A flight attendant appeared with two flutes of complimentary champagne. Good thing the Huxley is footing the bill.
The Huxley Grand was typically more generous than other brands I worked with, but this seemed exorbitant, even for them. I had a large following and was sought-after by luxury-travel companies, but I’d never given the Huxley brand glowing reviews. I’d been complimentary but honest. If I had suggestions—and I often did—I didn’t withhold them. I treated them just like any other brand; I had to. My integrity as a blogger was important to me. I knew how much my readers relied on me to give my honest opinion.
Jo gasped, then held up a pair of silk designer pajamas from the amenities kit. I laughed. I could only imagine what my family would have to say about our seating arrangement. I rolled my eyes. That wasn’t my concern. And for right now, I needed to focus on this trip. On my blog.
Once the flight attendant was gone, Jo leaned in, resting her elbows on her thighs. “So, are you worried about seeing…” She gave me a meaningful look. “You know.”
Graham.
My former boss and the CEO of the Huxley Grand empire.
I hadn’t seen—or worked for—Graham in nearly two years. Despite the fact that I was no longer his personal assistant, I continued to follow him, and his company, in the news. I told myself it was merely idle curiosity, keeping tabs on the industry, but I knew there was more to it than that.
I had a feeling if anyone would’ve understood my need to see the chateau project come to fruition, it would be him. That or he’d tell me it was a bad investment. I cringed at the idea of hearing those words from Graham Mackenzie. He was a shrewd businessman, a visionary, even if he was often misunderstood.
“Nah. Graham never attends this type of thing. If anything, I’m concerned I’ll run into his brother, Jasper. But I doubt he’ll recognize or remember me.” I gestured to my hair, knowing they wouldn’t expect me to have longer, darker hair like my current wig.
Hell, Graham had probably forgotten all about me. And I doubted he’d ever heard of, much less read, my blog. He was too busy for something so trivial.
Even if he had somehow checked out Gilded Lily , I always concealed my true identity. And besides, everything I’d written was something I would’ve said to his face. Though he would’ve just argued with me about it anyway.
I smiled at the thought. As annoying as he could be at times, I liked that he challenged me and my opinions instead of dismissing them. He’d treated me with respect.
I shifted my champagne flute, taking some pictures before repositioning the cocktail napkin. I needed to get my head in gear. As tired as I was of juggling the restoration and traveling for my blog, I relied on the income from my site to cover my monthly expenses. I couldn’t afford to screw this up.
And yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about the chateau and how much work it needed. If I couldn’t find a way to fund the necessary restorations… I blew out a breath. I’d done the math on the way to the airport, and I had maybe two months before I was out of money.
Jo slid my champagne flute closer. “Here. You look like you could use this.”
“Thanks,” I sighed and gulped some down. The champagne was refreshing and decadent, a welcome change from the water I typically consumed. Everything else was too expensive.
When my phone vibrated, I pulled it out of my purse and glanced at the screen.
Aster: You didn’t have to be such a jerk to Iris.
I frowned. Of course, my sister had told everyone about our argument. Of course my brother would take her side.
Mom: You need to apologize to your sister.
Jesus. I tightened the grip on my phone. What were we, five?
And why had my mom automatically taken my sister’s side? Without even talking to me, no less. Didn’t I deserve the benefit of the doubt? Or the chance to tell my side of the story?
It was disappointing. And yet, I wasn’t all that surprised. It hurt to admit that to myself.
I ignored all the other texts and replied directly to my mom.
Me: Why do I always have to be the one to apologize? I didn’t do anything wrong.
Mom: This never would’ve happened if you hadn’t been so selfish.
Wow. Even from hundreds of miles away, her words hit like a physical blow. Selfish? Auntie Jackie had left that money to me.
It had taken me far too long to realize that my family only called when they wanted something from me. Or maybe I just hadn’t wanted to see the truth.
But now that I had, I couldn’t unsee it. And even if I could’ve, I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
I’d never been more grateful for the flight attendant to announce that we had to put our devices into airplane mode. Gladly. I chucked my phone into my bag with a huff.
“Lil?” Jo nudged me. “You okay?”
The crew fired up the engines and made the announcement that we were about to take off. So, I dropped my bag to the floor and secured my seat belt before leaning my head back against the headrest. I closed my eyes with a sigh. “I am so done with my family.”
“Uh-oh. What happened this time?”
This time. Right. “My sister’s mad that I won’t loan her eighteen grand for a down payment on a house. And now, the rest of my family is ganging up on me.”
Jo’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I were.”
“You’re not going to give it to her, right?”
I guffawed. “No.”
My family was under the misguided impression that I was rolling in cash. But unless something changed—and fast—I might be forced to sell the chateau. Not that I was going to admit that to Jo. Thinking about my money woes was depressing, and I didn’t want to ruin our trip.
She gave my hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry your family is so shitty.”
I squeezed her hand back. “I’m grateful I have you.”
I was done with my family. I had a feeling that if I didn’t call them, they’d never call me. Unless it was to ask for money. I was over their drama and their demands. If they wanted to have a relationship with me, they could start making more of an effort because I was sick of trying.
“You always have me.” She patted my hand. “Plus, I found a steal of a deal on a flight to come visit. I hope it’s okay, but I went ahead and bought the ticket.”
“Really?” I perked up at that, and she nodded. “For when?”
She checked her phone then told me the dates. “Hopefully that works with your schedule.”
I checked my calendar. “Yes. That’s great. And you’ll be there for the weekend of the les Journées du patrimoine. ”
Les Journées was a weekend event each year celebrating European heritage. Chateaux throughout the region, including mine, would open their majestic gates and invite visitors to experience these places and their heritage. It didn’t matter that something was constantly under construction at the chateau; everyone wanted to see our progress.
And it was exciting. I loved being able to share the chateau with visitors. I loved hearing their feedback and excitement and gratitude for what we’d accomplished. It kept me going, even if organizing the event was a lot of work.
It required coordinating with the artisans for demonstrations, the local winery for tastings, and more. It was a huge opportunity but also a huge undertaking. It was my second year doing it, and I knew how much work it entailed. I had so much to organize, on top of everything else I was already doing.
“Why do you think I selected those dates?” She grinned. “You can put me to work.”
Who needed family when I had a friend like her?
“I’d love that,” I said. “But I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” She nudged me. “Besides, it’s not like you haven’t helped me with a million projects around the homestead.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t do them because I expected something in return.”
“I know.” She made a silly face. “I want to help, and I want to see the progress in person.”
“You mean you want to see Luc again,” I teased.
She didn’t rise to the bait, instead saying, “It’s not completely altruistic. I mean…I get great views on my content, especially my YouStream channel, when I post about visiting the chateau.”
I laughed. “Always happy to help. And, Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. This trip helps me too. I need some fresh content. I’ve been running out of ideas for projects to do around the farm.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute.”
She slumped in her chair. “I’ve almost finished all the major projects, and I’m afraid people will lose interest.”
I tempered my teasing at the sight of her anxiety. “I often feel that pressure too. To keep people’s interest. But you always come up with such creative content.” I tapped a finger to my lips. “Maybe work in more of the other projects you do. Baking. You mill your own flour. Show that!”
“You really think people would be interested?”
“Heck yeah. And you have some retreats coming up, right?”
“Yeah. Sedona. South Africa. And Alaska. Though, I’m usually so busy running them that there’s not enough time to focus on content. Even if there were, I want to make sure the attendees feel safe to share in such an intimate experience.”
I could understand that. I’d attended one of her retreats, and it had been amazing. “You are great at creating an atmosphere where people feel free to be vulnerable. Actually, I was hoping that, one day, you’d lead a retreat at the chateau.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah. Maybe we could make it an annual thing. I want it to be a place for wellness. Luxury travel isn’t just about expensive surroundings and sumptuous fabrics. It should be restorative for the mind, body, and spirit.”
“Ooh. I love that.”
We kept brainstorming until the captain announced that it was time for takeoff. As soon as the wheels left the ground, I was finally able to relax a little. I was still upset about my family’s texts, but the fact that Josephine had booked a ticket and would be there to help with the les Journées du patrimoine was a huge relief.
When I yawned a third time, Jo inclined her head toward the end of our pod. “Why don’t you close the curtains and rest.”
I blew out a breath. I hadn’t been sleeping well. The rainstorms always made me feel exhausted and defeated, magnifying the precarious state of the chateau.
I was stressed about money. About everything the chateau needed. The fact that my family was ganging up on me didn’t help.
Auntie Jackie had given me that money. Me and no one else.
That was her decision. Just as it had been her money.
Hell, when she was alive, the rest of my family had never checked in on her. Never bothered to have any kind of relationship with her. They’d never cared about her until they’d found out about the money she’d left me. It was disgusting, and it made my heart ache.
I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about anything. So I pulled the complimentary silk sleep mask down over my eyes and reclined my seat into a bed, trying to enjoy this slice of luxury.
It was a far cry from the traveling I’d done as a child, which had been rare and consisted solely of road trips. All six of us crammed into a van that, more often than not, left us on the side of the road. And yet, that van was more reliable than my family. What a depressing thought.
* * *
“This is stunning,” Jo said, taking it all in as she snapped a few pictures.
Lush tropical plants surrounded a grand entrance. And everything about the building spoke of the quiet elegance I’d come to expect from Graham and the Huxley brand.
“It is,” I agreed, drawing closer to the interior courtyard where water cascaded off a fountain, light dappling the space between the wooden slats. “But it’s also practical and sustainable. The water feature uses rainwater and helps regulate the temperature and humidity levels.”
“Wow. That’s cool. Plus, it’s a nice way to welcome guests.”
“Exactly,” I said. The waterfall and walls cut down on noise and created a calming atmosphere to welcome guests.
I took a few pictures, wanting to capture it for my blog. Made a few notes in the app I used to prep my posts. But when I was finished, it wouldn’t save. I frowned down at the screen, trying and failing to save again.
“Wow. Impressive. This was one of the last projects you worked on, right?”
I nodded. “It’s designed by Atlas Blackwood.”
Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. The Atlas Blackwood?”
“The one and only.” Atlas was a famous architect known for his commitment to incorporating local materials and focusing on sustainability. When Graham had proposed Atlas to the board, they’d balked at the cost. Graham had had to fight them again and again—on that and other issues. But I’d secretly applauded him for his vision and his tenacity.
He might come across as cold and aloof at times, but I’d learned a lot from Graham during my time as his personal assistant. He’d been a fair and generous boss. And whenever I’d shown an interest in something, Graham hadn’t hesitated to let me gain more experience.
Since I’d purchased the chateau, I often found myself reflecting on his leadership. I’d asked myself countless times what he’d do if he were in my situation. And while he had more resources and family support at his disposal, his work ethic and determination helped me stay focused. Helped me stay motivated even when I felt like giving up.
After I’d told the front desk I was Gilded Lily, Jo and I were escorted to our suite. I peppered Jo with more facts about the hotel and its design. The building was nestled into a dramatic cliffside that overlooked the ocean. And the finishes—from the tile to the faucets—were all locally sourced or made by local artisans.
“I’m going to start getting ready for the welcome party,” I called out from my bedroom.
I was still anxious about the chateau and my dwindling savings. But tonight, that didn’t matter. Tonight, I was Gilded Lily, successful luxury-travel blogger.
I dressed and put on my makeup, then finished my look with a dark brown wig that was one of my favorites. Long and wavy, it was probably the closest to my natural hair, at least, what it used to look like before I’d lost all of it.
“I love that one,” Jo said, catching sight of me in the mirror as I finished applying my eyelashes.
“Francine?” I patted my head with a smile. “She’s my favorite.”
I named all of my wigs. And after having alopecia for sixteen years, I’d tried all sorts of kinds. Different colors of hair. Different styles and lengths. It was fun to be able to change my look with my mood, and it helped ease some of the grief from my hair loss.
When I’d worked for Graham, I’d been in my lob era. And I’d worn a shoulder-length wig in a much lighter color. More of a golden-blond with highlights.
“They all look amazing on you.” She grinned.
I thanked her, and then we headed out to the courtyard where the event was taking place. Musicians played a lively tune, and I smiled as a gentle breeze flirted with the hem of my dress. We grabbed some drinks, and while I was comparing notes with another travel blogger about the best airlines for international travel, Jo got pulled into another conversation. We found ourselves on opposite sides of the courtyard.
Someone else asked me a question, and I got caught up in what I was saying about the size of some of the first-class seats. When my hand connected with a firm body, I startled.
“I’m so sorry.” I turned to apologize, but my eyes widened as I took in the man I’d struck.
Graham?
“Liliana,” he rasped. He leaned in, close enough for me to smell crisp cedar, another earthy, woodsy scent that I couldn’t pinpoint, and notes of lavender. “Or does everyone call you Lily now? Because of your blog.”
I was so surprised by his words that I stumbled back a step. I nearly collided with a passing waiter but luckily sidestepped him and his tray. “Sorry.” I cringed, just trying to get out of the way before I injured anyone else. “Sorry.”
I wobbled on my feet, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. Oh god. Could this get any worse?
Before I realized what was happening, my heel caught in one of the grooves between the stones. I windmilled my arms, but I was falling backward. I reached out for something, anything.
Graham was already stretching his arms toward me. My eyes widened, and I latched on to his lapels. But it was too late. I’d already gained too much momentum. And then he was coming with me.
The impact of the water was a shock to my system, cold against my heated skin. I pushed to the surface, spluttering as soon as my head was above water. Graham bobbed to the top, slicking his hair away from his face.
His thick curls were coiled even tighter from the water. Despite the fact that he’d just fallen into a pool, he looked every inch the billionaire CEO he was. Powerful. In control. Determination oozing from his pores.
He scanned me, and my skin warmed beneath his perusal. I was pinned in place by those intelligent green eyes, unable to turn or even breathe.
My heart raced, and I felt off-kilter from all the adrenaline suddenly flooding my veins. At least, that’s what I told myself it was.
“Oh my god. I’m so…” I lifted my hand as if to smooth down his waterlogged tie. His bespoke suit clung to his muscles in a way that had my mouth going dry. “So.” I shook my head in disbelief. “Sorry.” I placed my hand on his lapel, as if that could somehow fix this.
He glanced down at my hand and then met my eyes once more. “Liliana.” He placed his hand over mine, and I tried to ignore the frisson his touch sent through me. That was new.
Or maybe it was just that he’d so rarely touched me in the past. But now that he was, it was all I could think about. The way his larger hand enveloped my smaller one. The way his long, elegant fingers curved over mine. The rough calluses on his palms.
A camera flashed, and I winced at the brightness. It was then I realized everyone was staring at us; some of them even had their phones out, cameras pointed at us and filming. I gently patted my head, relieved my wig was still in place. Thank god.
I gritted my teeth and waded over to my purse, snatching it from the pool. And then I made my way to the stairs, trying to ignore the way everyone watched us.
Graham swore under his breath, something about how I was such a menace.
“How is this my fault?” I muttered, careful to keep my voice low.
He gave me a look as if to say, “Of course it’s your fault.”
I tried not to glower at him, but it was difficult. “You startled me. I can’t help it that my shoe got caught.”
“Not the most sensible footwear.” He tilted his head to indicate the shoes that I was now holding in my hand. Strappy heels that were sexy and fun. “Maybe you should reconsider your shoe choice.”
“Maybe you should reconsider your word choice,” I spat back.
We hadn’t seen each other in two years. But less than five minutes in, and we were already arguing. Typical.
“What are you even doing here?” I hissed under my breath.
Graham rarely attended events like this, leaving them to his brother, Jasper. Graham abhorred small talk, and these events were a waste of time, in his opinion. Yet he was here. And now that I thought about it, he didn’t seem all that surprised to see me.
“Last I checked, I run this hotel.” He kept his voice low, the water sloshing around us as we climbed the pool stairs. “And I was coming to say hello before you dragged me into the pool.”
I lifted my chin, ignoring everyone around us. Unwilling to rise to his bait.
Graham yanked a towel from a cart beside the pool. “Here.”
“Thank you,” I huffed, taking it from him with more force than was necessary.
Graham leaned in. “People are watching,” he said in a low voice. Then louder, for the benefit of our audience, he said, “We’re fine. Please, enjoy yourselves.”
The musicians had resumed playing, and everyone seemed to have returned to their previous conversations. Regardless of whether that was true, that’s what I was telling myself. Because Graham was right; I could still feel everyone’s eyes on us. I was drenched and humiliated, and I just wanted to hide in my room and pretend this had never happened.
Josephine and a hotel employee rushed over as Graham was toweling himself off. “Oh my god. Lily, are you okay?”
I nodded. Just embarrassed and ready to get the hell out of here.
She rocked from one foot to the other, glancing at Graham’s back and then to me. Her eyes went wide, and she mouthed, “OMG!”
“I’m going to head back to the room,” I said.
“I’ll go with you.” She moved to set down her drink.
“No. No.” I hugged myself. “Enjoy the party. I’ll catch up with you later.” She looked uncertain, so I nudged her, smiling brightly in an effort to convince her. “Have fun. And you better not come back early. At least, not on my account.”
“Okay. Okay.” She huffed, but she said the words with a smile. “Text if you need anything . Promise?”
“Promise.”
She hesitated and then, finally satisfied by whatever she saw in my expression, she returned to the party.
I clutched at my purse, filled with a deepening sense of dread. I pulled out my phone, and the screen was black. “ Merde .” Destroyed. Along with a ton of images I’d snapped of the hotel earlier for content, content I had planned for the chateau. I sagged, realizing that I’d never gotten the chance to upload them.
Graham wrung out some water from his jacket. “You can get a new one.” It was said in such a callous, offhand tone that it pissed me off.
I glowered at him, my earlier concern replaced with anger. “No. I can’t.”
I couldn’t just blow money on a new phone, but he wouldn’t understand that. And even if I could, it still wouldn’t solve the issue of my unsaved content. Fuck.
I brushed past Graham as I strode toward the building, still clutching the towel to my chest with one hand.
He easily caught up to me and grabbed my wrist, his hold light but authoritative. “Liliana, wait. You’re bleeding.” I followed his gaze down to my ankle, and sure enough, there was blood.
“I’m fine.” I tried to shake off his hold. “It’s a scratch.”
“Allow me to help you.” He held my wrist and my attention, lowering his voice as he added, “I insist.”
“Always have to cover your ass, right?” I quipped. “I’m not going to sue you,” I said as we headed toward the lobby. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“You’re my guest. Let me take care of you.”
Why did my mind immediately jump to an image of him saying that in a completely different context? One with fewer clothes.
Did I hit my head on the way into the pool? I must have. That was the only rational explanation for the direction my thoughts had taken.
“I—” I opened my mouth as if to protest then my shoulders slumped, sensing that I was going to lose this fight. The idea of letting someone, anyone, take care of me was foreign. And especially someone like Graham. I mean, hell, I used to take care of his needs.
No. No. No. Not like that. His professional needs.
I groaned, telling myself to get it together.
“Fine,” I sighed.
His eyes flashed with something—an emotion I couldn’t name. “Good.”