Chapter 14
PAIGE
If the dinner at Sylvie’s was scary, this one is downright terrifying.
I don’t recognize most of the faces around the table. But as Rafe introduces me to them all, I realize very quickly that these are some of the most influential people in the business side of luxury.
These are executives with power, and investors, and shareholders. Heads of Maison Valmont’s labels. And they’re all watching me with a mixture of intrigued curiosity and calculated interest.
Abort mission, I think.
I was never meant to be an actress. I played sports in high school and went to college for business and public relations. I love my job, but it includes crafting narratives, not lying.
At least this dinner is scary-movement. I don’t like scary-stillness, when my emotions overwhelm me. They can’t catch me as long as I keep running from them.
So I stay in motion. I smile at them all.
I shake hands, kiss cheeks, and sit down opposite Rafe at the table.
The conversations around the table are mostly in French, but several seem to prefer English.
Thankfully, the woman beside me does, and I find out she’s Rafe’s chief financial officer at Maison Valmont.
Wonderful.
She asks me about Mather & Wilde, not about Rafe. I can talk about my family’s company forever, so I lay out all the issues we had under Ben. She probably already knows them—she has access to our reports—but it sets the stage for talking about ideas to get the company back on its feet.
She listens intently and asks clever questions. Questions that don’t seem to hint at gutting the place to the studs.
Opposite me, Rafe is the undisputed king of the table.
There’s not a single person here who doesn’t in some way report to him. That’s a dizzying thought. I glance over a few times, but he looks perfectly relaxed. Dark hair pushed back, shirtsleeves folded up, and an easy expression on his face.
I drink more wine than I should. The food is delicious, prepared by the chef I glimpsed in the kitchen, all cheese-drenched pastas and light salads. After it’s over, people get up to mingle about. No one seems like they’re about to leave, despite the sun having long since set.
Italian music rings out through the speakers.
I’m handed a chilled shot glass of limoncello by a man who turns out to be Valmont’s head of global marketing. That means he’s also in PR, except if this was a video game, he’d be about twenty levels above me.
“Are company parties always like this?” I ask him. Business conducted with a drink in one hand and a cannoli in the other.
He smiles. “In the summer? Yes. No one wants to sit in an office when the weather is like this!”
“Do you come to Como every summer?”
“Yes, yes, always. Raphael is here most summers,” he says, and I wonder if he’s like a king of old, with his court moving palaces with the seasons. “I’m very curious about you, you know. Will you tell me the story?”
I launch into a combination of half-truths and outright lies. These people are all wolves. I know that. They’re part of Rafe’s pack, and combined, they have systematically taken over, consolidated, and grown the world’s largest luxury business.
I might not like their methods. Not when it came to my family company, certainly. But there’s no denying they’re legends in the industry.
There are brands they’ve saved from the brink of ruin. They do have a large philanthropy section. That doesn’t make Rafe any less ruthless. But it does mean that I’d be an idiot not to try to win these people to my side.
Mine, and Mather & Wilde’s.
The sun has long since set when Sylvie and Leelyn finally show up.
I’m on my too-many-to-count glass of champagne, sitting between a procurement officer and one of Valmont’s new young designers.
They’ve asked me about the marriage, and I’ve managed to make our story far more convincing.
In my current iteration, Rafe and I have a shared love of old ’90s movies.
I’ll have to tell him later.
Sylvie pulls me aside as soon as she sees me. She’s in a black tailored suit, no shirt, and it’s open all the way down to her navel. Her hair is loose and flowing today, and she’s put on dramatic eyeliner.
God, she’s cool. I tell her that, my hand on her shoulder. I want to be just like her when I’m fifty-something.
“And you’re impressive, chérie. It looks like you’ve got all these people eating out of the palm of your hand.”
“I’m trying,” I admit.
She laughs. “And you’re forthright. Good. I like that in people. It’ll be fantastic for Rafe.”
“Most of them probably think Rafe and I got married for business,” I say, and I’m probably getting far too talkative. “It’s a weird feeling, to talk to people and have them mistrust you.”
Sylvie nods slowly. Her eyes are a little too sharp, and I don’t think she’s near as tipsy as me. “I can see that. Let’s get another glass, Paige, and you can introduce me to all your new friends.”
“You probably know them all already,” I say.
“Non,” she replies. “But they know of me, of course. I usually ignore Raphael’s little business soirees. I prefer the more artistic types. People who can’t do math, you know? Those are my people.”
A smile breaks across my face. “I spoke to the head of finance earlier. She was very nice.”
“Bah, I won’t believe it until I’ve seen it,” Sylvie says, and puts her arm through mine. “Let’s go hunting.”
The night spins on, and what started as a dinner has thoroughly turned into a party. Some leave, but many stay. The corporate types clearly know how to have a good time. The terrace table is littered with empty bottles of champagne, laughter and jazz mingling in the air.
The gravel is crunchy and a bit sharp beneath my bare feet. I ditched my heels hours ago.
Laughter rings out from the pool. It’s amazing, the inhibitions that grown people drop with enough alcohol and the right atmosphere. Summer has started, and they’re all celebrating.
Even Rafe looks like he’s having fun.
He moves through the crowds, talking to everyone. I never see him stay in one place long. It makes me a little dizzy, thinking on how much money I spent today and how little he seemed to care.
Long past midnight, I end up sprawled on a chair next to the fountain with the beautiful Egeria, still dutifully pouring water from her urn, with Sylvie and Leelyn close by.
“Is it always this hot?” I ask Sylvie. “Please tell me it’s not. I have to live here all summer.”
“Yes.” She lifts her cigarette to her lips. Leelyn stands in front of us, her hips swaying to the music, hands moving like she’s directing an invisible orchestra. “It’s summer. You’ll get used to it.”
“The heat is good,” Leelyn says. She’s tipsy too, now, and quick to laugh. I loved my lunch with her today. I learned that she’s named after her parents middle names. Lee and Lynn, put together. “Come on, Paige. We can swim.”
“The pool sounds very full.”
“Full of people who do math for a living,” Sylvie says.
“Not the pool.” Leelyn nods toward the fountain next to us with the nymph statue. “In there. Look at her, so industrious and so… so… neglected.”
“The fountain? It is pretty large.” I stand up and put the champagne glass down beside me.
“Oh no,” Sylvie says.
“Oh yes,” Leelyn says. She’s already tossing off her slides. Flat shoes was a much better choice than my ill-fated heels.
I don’t let myself think. I step past Leelyn and sit on the edge of the fountain. It’s deeper than it looks, and I swing my legs over and into the cool water.
The sensation is fantastic. It drowns out the sound of music, the pounding of my heart, the low-level anxiety I’ve run from all day.
Sylvie laughs. “You’re insane, chérie, but I think I’m in love with you.”
“Hey!” Leelyn says. “I’m better friends with her!”
I take another step into the fountain. I’m right next to Egeria now. I cup my hands, and she pours water directly into them. If she has any magic, I want all of it.
I sink to my knees, the water flowing up to my chest. I dip backward, and float in the water. It’s shockingly cold against my scalp.
“Come in!” I call to Leelyn.
“After you! It’s not big enough for two.”
I sit up and push wet tendrils off my face. It feels incredible. The cool water has just cleared my head, and above us, the stars glitter.
“I’ll make room for you,” I tell her.
But she’s backed away, grinning at me over a glass of champagne. No, in front of me is someone else entirely. Someone shrugging out of his suit jacket with an expression like death.
Rafe.
Here to kill the fun.
I stand up, and water sluices down my body. I’m still in my white linen dress, and too late, I realize it’s probably not great for swimming.
“Wilde,” he says. There’s a world of disapproval in his tone.
“Hello, husband.”
His eyes drop to my body for a split second. “Get out.”
“But I’m having so much fun.”
He takes a step closer and holds out his hand. “Now,” he says, voice dropping. Behind him, up on the terrace, mingling guests watch us. Many of them are smiling widely.
We have the audience we need.
I take Rafe’s hand and look at him like he’s my favorite person in the world. “The water’s nice.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Maybe. Aren’t you?”
He holds up his suit jacket and turns his head like he can’t look at me. “Put this on.”
“I’m not cold,” I protest, even though I am.
“I don’t care. That dress makes you look naked.”
“Is that why you’re looking away?” I take a step closer and lower my voice. “If you’re my husband, Rafe, you would have seen all of it already. Don’t look away. It’s suspicious.”
He slides his gaze back to mine. The green of his eyes looks near black in the dimness of the night, and the sharp, handsome planes of his face are tight. “People are watching us.”
“I know. That’s the point.” I slide my arms into the sleeves of his suit jacket. It’s going to get wet, too. Delightful. “Your image matters a lot to you.”