27. Dont Fake It
Chapter twenty-seven
Don't Fake It
“A nd where were you, chérie ?”
Anne-Marie gave me a pointed look as JP and I walked up to the table she was sitting at with Remy.
“What do you mean, where was I?” I asked as JP pulled a chair out for me. I went to sit down, then hesitated when I remembered my panties were soaked and wondered if they’d leave a mark on the skirt of my dress, but figured the lining was thick enough to hide anything that might leak through and sat.
“Oh, I simply mean no one seems to have seen you for a significant amount of time,” she said, her voice light enough that it almost masked the predatory demand for information. “I thought you and Jean-Paul were up to no good, perhaps.”
“Jesus Christ, Anne-Marie,” I muttered, my face going red.
“ Au contraire, ” JP said, his voice smooth as he sat beside me. “Nellie was up to plenty of good.”
Anne-Marie’s mouth twisted in excitement. “Was she?”
My heart hammered in my chest as I looked at JP, trying not to let the betrayal show on my face. “Was I?”
“Of course.” He slung his arm casually on the back of my chair. “Nellie spilled some of her drink on my jacket and insisted on helping me clean it up. I’d say that was pretty good of her, wouldn’t you?”
Anne-Marie didn’t seem to buy it. Her eyebrow flicked up in skeptical disbelief and she folded her arms. “That seems like the kind of thing Nellie might tell you to do your damn self, regardless of who spilled it.”
Damnit. She was right about that.
“She did,” JP said. “That’s the story, anyway.”
“I knew it.” Anne-Marie’s grin widened to Cheshire Cat levels. “And the truth?”
JP glanced to the left and right before taking his arm back and leaning across the table as I prayed he knew what he was doing.
“The truth, dear sister, is that I saw Clinton floating around,” he murmured loud enough for the four of us to hear. “So I didn’t want to leave Nellie unattended since the whole reason I’m here is so she doesn’t have to deal with him, isn’t it?”
Anne-Marie glanced at me, then sighed. “Yes, that is true, Jean-Paul.”
Thank God.
“I just thought perhaps that finally you two might get together so I could stop hassling you both,” she continued.
“Anne-Marie!” I said, my face turning red. “What the hell?”
A casual, easy smirk crossed JP’s face and he sat back, putting his arm around my chair again. “Don’t worry, sister. I wouldn’t do something like that to you. Your friends are firmly off-limits.”
“You’re so full of shit,” I murmured when one of Anne-Marie’s other friends came up and distracted her a few minutes later. “How many of her friends have you fucked?”
“Like six,” he muttered back. “But you’re my favourite.”
I tried not to snort. “Sure I am.”
“You think I’ve fucked any of her other friends more than once?”
Before I had to answer, we were thankfully interrupted by a tall, slim woman wearing a tailored tuxedo folding herself into the chair next to me.
“Well, well, well,” Claire said loudly. “If it isn’t my weakness.”
I burst out laughing. “Hey again. You’re becoming a regular at these things.”
“I know.” She sighed heavily. “What a fucking chore.”
“They aren’t that bad,” Julie said, pulling out the chair next to Claire and settling into it. “At least you’ve made friends.”
“That might be my reminder that I’m allowed to think you’re funny, pretty, and curvy, but in a friends sort of way,” Claire stage-whispered, her eyes darting to JP. “So your boyfriend doesn’t have to worry.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.
“Not her boyfriend,” JP said at the same time.
“They aren’t together,” Remy also said in unison.
“Not yet,” Anne-Marie added in a sing-song voice.
Claire let out one of her horrific laughs. “Oof. I stumbled on a nerve, apparently.”
“Not a nerve,” JP said warmly. “We’re friends and I’m here as a favour to Nellie, despite Anne-Marie implying otherwise.” He stuck out his hand. “JP. Nice to meet you.”
“Claire,” she replied, shaking his hand firmly. “And my fiancée, Julie.”
“It is so good to see you again, Claire,” Anne-Marie gushed, and I finally noticed that she was practically vibrating with excitement. “And I hope we will be seeing more of you, too. My friend Bella said you are coming to Montreal permanently?”
Claire’s expression shifted, not quite enough to be obvious but enough that I saw the hint of tension that wasn’t there before.
“Possibly,” she said. “We’re not divulging any specifics yet.”
“Oh, of course.” Anne-Marie waved a hand. “Forgive me. I just know how honoured so many people would be to have you in attendance.”
“Right,” Claire said, though the smile on her face was forced.
“We’ll see what the future brings,” Julie said with a gracious diplomacy that confused me even more. “Of course, we had to check out tonight’s event since everyone talked about how extravagant it is. A few of our friends even came to town to enjoy it with us.”
“I certainly hope we get a chance to meet them, as well,” Anne-Marie said. “I imagine they must—”
“Anne-Marie, there you are.”
If Anne-Marie wasn’t as good at covering her emotions with socially acceptable manners, she probably would have screamed in frustration at the interruption. Instead, a practiced and patient look graced her face as we turned to see Michele, the curvy redhead I’d seen at the funeral and who JP had cancelled his date with so I could sneak into his bedroom, sidle up to the table.
“I need to speak with you,” she said pointedly.
“Right now?” Anne-Marie asked.
Michele’s eyes flicked towards me and JP. “Mm-hmm.”
“Hi Michele,” JP said pleasantly. “Good to see you. I appreciate you being so understanding I had to cancel last week when I was sick.”
“Not enough to call, apparently,” she said.
“Alright,” Anne-Marie said brightly, clapping her hands together as she stood to interrupt the obvious tension. “Excuse me, everyone. Remy and I will be back shortly.”
Remy got up and followed Anne-Marie and her friend dutifully. Once they were gone, Claire sighed again.
“She’s one you have to watch out for, isn’t she?” she asked.
JP snorted. “Oh, absolutely.”
Julie looked amused. “You seem to know that well. Is she a former girlfriend or something?”
The laugh that burst out of me was so sudden and unexpected that I clapped a hand over my mouth. JP chuckled and shook his head.
“No, but she is my sister,” he said.
Julie looked mortified. “Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
“I’m not,” Claire said, then winced like someone had just kicked her under the table. “Kidding. I definitely am.”
“Don’t be.” JP waved a hand. “But you also don’t need to worry. She’s not interested in corporate espionage or anything. More like who’s dating who and what their ex thinks of it.”
Claire nodded, though she still looked suspicious. An awkward beat of silence passed.
“Well, your makeup looks great tonight,” I said, mainly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say and since unlike the other times I’d seen her, Claire was wearing a rainbow eyeshadow look with a bold eyeliner and subtle glitter.
“Oh,” Claire said, her voice dipping into disappointment. “Thanks.”
Confused, I glanced at JP, who had a practiced, casual look on his face that did nothing to help me figure out what the hell was going on.
“Did you, um, do it yourself?” I tried.
Claire exchanged a look with Julie. “You think I do my own makeup?”
I wasn’t sure if it was her tone or the implication that I might have said something stupid or just the impatience of not knowing what the fuck was going on, but annoyance flared through me. “I was just asking. I like the colours and thought maybe you knew what brand it was or something.”
“What… brand?” Claire repeated incredulously.
The annoyance switched to aggravation. “Oh my God. Yes. Like what makeup brand you or your artist used because I like the colours. Yeesh.”
“Nell,” JP said, laughter in his voice.
“No, no, it’s okay,” Claire said, shaking her head. “You just, uh, confused me. It’s fine.”
“Okay,” I said, also confused.
“I didn’t do it myself,” Claire said. “My girlfriend did it for me.”
“Fiancée, you mean?” I said, looking at Julie.
“No,” Claire said, twisting in her chair so she could gesture at a nearby table, where a chubby woman with wavy brown hair was sitting between two men. “My girlfriend.”
“Oh, sorry,” I said. “I thought you meant, like, a romantic girlfriend.”
Julie looked amused, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Wait until she finds out how you and Tess catch up.”
I must have looked completely lost when Claire snickered because Julie finally took pity on me.
“She means girlfriend as in girlfriend ,” she said. “For a while they were girl-friends-not-girlfriends but when I got promoted to fiancée, Tess decided she wanted the title after all.” She gestured at the woman again. “The guys she’s sitting with are her partners.”
I blinked.
Then I blinked again.
Then I practically whirled towards the table they’d been mentioning and studied the people there. This time, I noticed the man on the left, who had brown skin and dark brown hair, had his hand on the woman’s thigh. And the man on the right, who looked almost too tall to fit into a standard gala chair and had shaggy blonde hair tied into a low ponytail at the base of his neck, had his arm around her chair… and his hand on the other man’s shoulder.
“Wait,” I said. “You’re all fucking?”
Claire’s crackling bark of laughter turned heads around us, but I didn’t notice them.
“The three of them are partners,” Julie said. “Claire and I are together. But Claire and Tess also hook up regularly.”
“Don’t forget that you and Tess also used to hook up,” Claire added. “ And your ex-boyfriend is one of her partners.”
“Yes,” Julie sighed. “It’s all very complicated.”
“And you just go out to events and stuff together?” JP asked, sounding amused.
“Not always,” Claire said. “They all live in Vancouver. But my, ah… mother’s been looking at business opportunities in Quebec and having an office here would make that much easier. Julie and I were only supposed to be here for a couple of weeks coordinating things but my mother keeps asking for more and more, so I figured I’d fly them out to see us. Plus it’s a good way to see what the reactions would be like.”
“Your mom doesn’t know?” I asked.
“She does,” Claire said. “And doesn’t care at all. She’s surprisingly accepting of things, especially as she’s gotten older. But my sister is obsessed with appearances and business-wise, appearances matter, apparently.” She rolled her eyes. “The things we do for family.”
I half-laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“I just did.” Claire shifted in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “But now you’re going to tell me about it, because that sounds interesting.”
“Not really,” I said. “I’m mainly just at these things to make my dad look good.”
“I see,” Claire said. “What’s your dad do?”
“He’s a hedgefund manager,” I said. “And also an asshole.”
She let out a bark of laughter. “Relatable. My father was also a massive asshole.”
“Yeah, well, did yours make you go to a funeral because he was trying to impress the life partner of the dead guy so she’d hire his company and then get mad at you for offering your condolences because she thought it was a total front?” I asked sarcastically.
JP’s hand found my leg under the table, urgent and demanding. “Wait, Nell—”
“Shh.” Claire held a finger up at JP, her eyes sparkling, and he hesitated, then nodded in concession. “This was the funeral last week?”
I nodded. “He’s been trying to get in contact with this company all summer and I keep fucking it up for him, apparently. He was trying to meet someone at that other event we saw you at, but Sid Cunnilinginton the Third offended the creep who thinks he’s entitled to be my date and my dad was dealing with that all night.”
Claire nodded, then exchanged a look with Julie that I couldn’t quite interpret before looking back at me. “Do you want to impress your dad?”
“Does ‘yes and no’ make sense as an answer?”
“As a fellow fierce babe with daddy issues, absolutely.” Standing, Claire gestured for me and JP to follow her. “Come. Both of you.”
“Well, I can try, but I can’t usually do it on demand,” I said.
“And I’m not sure how your fiancée or girlfriend will feel about that,” JP said as he rose.
Julie rolled her eyes, but Claire snorted. “Are you two sure you’re just friends?”
“Yes,” we said, instantly and in unison.
She let out another offensive shriek of laughter, which thankfully seemed to distract her from the way I had to adjust myself because my panties were sticking uncomfortably to my skin because of JP’s stupid cum.
“Nell, listen,” JP breathed as we followed Claire, who was walking with a confident and quick stride, through the ballroom. “Be yourself.”
I frowned, looking at him with confusion. “What?”
“When you meet her.”
“ Who ?” I asked.
JP almost laughed, but he held it in. “Pia Martelle.”
Pia—
“ What ?!” I shrieked in the quietest hiss I could manage. “No! Why… how ?”
He shook his head. “You are so smart sometimes, babe, but other times…”
“Shut up.” I glanced wildly ahead of me, my heart jumping into my throat. “My dad’s going to be furious, JP. I can’t—”
“You’ve already impressed her daughter,” he said reassuringly.
“Whose daughter?” I asked.
JP pressed his lips together, drawing in a breath. “Pia Martelle’s daughter. Claire.”
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Oh fucking no .
Now that JP had basically spelled it out for me, it made sense. Heat rose up my cheeks, embarrassment at it taking me this long to put two and two and two together and realize that Claire was the mysterious other Martelle sister.
That explained Anne-Marie’s reaction and Claire’s response to my question about her makeup.
And it also meant I’d insulted Claire’s father to her face at his funeral.
Although apparently Claire had issues with her dad, too, and had also taken a liking to me, so now we were going to meet her mom because I’d also told her my dad was trying to get in with her mother and that he was a predatory asshole.
And now I was on my way to be introduced to the billionaire founder of one of the biggest cosmetic companies in the world in front of a gala full of people with my panties full of cum and no idea what to do.
But before I could tell Claire to stop, that I didn’t want to meet her mom, that seriously, this was just going to make things worse because I was not good at making good impressions and my dad was going to lose his shit if I fucked things up even more for him, JP put a hand on my lower back, not so much to guide me as to steady me.
“Stop panicking,” he murmured. “Be yourself.”
“Except I suck,” I breathed back.
“Yeah, and you’re damn good at it.” His hand moved in a small circle. “Trust me. I would know.”
“Perv.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Listen. Just be genuine around her. Don’t fake it.”
I didn’t have a chance to tell him that was a horrible idea before we reached a table near the front of the room surrounded by a group of people. Claire slowed, though she still walked confidently.
“Mother dear,” she said cheerfully, and the group parted to let us all pass through, revealing the small frame of Pia Martelle sitting at the head of the table holding a flute of champagne that looked gigantic in her tiny hand. “I have someone you need to meet.”
“Do you, darling?” Pia said, her tone almost bored.
“Mm-hmm.” She stepped to the side, drawing me and JP forward. “This is Nellie and her date, JP.”
Pia had eyes like a hawk, beady and predatory and aware of every detail around her. She set her gaze on me, so piercing I almost shivered.
“Nellie,” she repeated. “You look familiar.”
Crap. “Um, yes. I met—”
“Do you remember I told you about the girl who dressed up her date as a man and drew a mustache on him?” Claire interrupted.
“I do,” Pia said.
“Same girl,” Claire said.
Pia looked from me to JP. “Has she upped her game? This one seems more convincing than what you described. And he doesn’t have a mustache.”
“I didn’t have the pleasure of being Nellie’s date to that event, unfortunately,” JP said.
“Hmmph,” Pia said. “Too bad. I would’ve liked to see that.”
“I can show you a picture,” I offered.
She set her hawk-like eyes on me again. “Let’s see it, then.”
So that was how I ended up showing selfies of me and Sydney to Pia Martelle, who snickered almost immaturely as she examined them.
“Well, your technical skills leave something to be desired,” she said, passing my phone back to me. “But you know damn well how to make a statement.”
Somehow, I didn’t feel insulted by her critique of my makeup skills, probably because she wasn’t wrong. “Thanks, Ms. Martelle.”
“And what was your name again, darling?”
“Nellie,” I said. “Nellie Belanger.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Belanger, eh? Any relation to that hedgefund manager? Max?”
Fuck.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s my dad.”
“Mmm.” She looked unimpressed and glanced at Claire. “Is that so?”
“Don’t worry, ma’am,” I said. “I’m not happy about it, either.”
And then I heard the worst sound I’d ever heard in my life.
Pia Martelle’s laughter was a mix of nails on a chalkboard meeting squealing Styrofoam meeting a fully booked transatlantic flight on its way to a colicky baby convention. The sound was horrendous , and even worse, it was loud. I wish I could have said I’d never heard anything like it, but the truth was, it was a more grating version of Claire’s laughter, which joined the cacophony as Pia threw her head back in amusement.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she chuckled. “Either Max Belanger copulated with the most beautiful clown in existence or the stick in his ass is actually holding in a sense of humour.”
“Well, he did meet my mom at a circus,” I said, which was a lie, but another peal of laughter scratched eardrums throughout the ballroom.
I wasn’t sure if it was the first bout of laughter or the second or if someone just told him I was spotted walking around with Claire Martelle, but at least one of those things caught my dad’s attention because Pia hadn’t even stopped laughing when he pushed his way through the crowd around us.
“Eleanor,” he said, his voice steady and even but his eyes cold. “Are you bothering Ms. Martelle?”
“Oh, lighten up, Belanger,” Pia said dismissively. “Your daughter is a delight.”
Holy shit .
I wasn’t the only one who thought it; my dad looked stunned as Pia snapped her fingers and a handkerchief appeared there from an assistant who moved as undetectably as a ghost. She patted the handkerchief beneath her eyes.
“Thanks, Ms. Martelle,” I said.
She waved a hand. “Call me Pia.” She snapped again and the assistant reappeared. “Therese, schedule a call with Max Belanger to discuss those accounts he’s been harassing me about.”
“That would be wonderful,” my dad said, and to anyone else, he probably sounded as smooth and confident and in control as he always did, but the way his eyes darted to me betrayed his shock.
“Well, if it’ll get you off my back,” Pia said, sniffing before she turned to JP. “And you.”
“Yes, ma’am?” JP said.
“Take care of that girl,” she said.
“We’re just friends,” I said, alarmed.
JP smiled good-naturedly. “I’ve always known she’s out of my league, ma’am.”
Pia snorted. “Well then, when you two get your heads out of your asses, hold onto her. You won’t find another like her.”
My face burned and JP looked amused, but another spine-tingling laugh from Claire kept us from saying anything more and when she stopped cackling, Pia turned her gaze to the next people vying for her attention. In the whirlwind of her dismissal, I thanked Claire and tried to apologize for what I’d said about her dad, but she waved it off. Moments later, I ended up a few tables away, JP standing on one side of me and my dad standing stiffly in front of us.
“Well,” my dad said. “That was a pleasant turn of events.”
“It was,” I said.
He nodded stiffly. “I suppose I must say thank you—”
“You’re wel—“ I started to say.
“—Jean-Paul.”
My voice fell to nothing.
“Pardon?” JP said.
My dad, oblivious to the fact that I was pretty sure my heart had fallen out of my chest and was squelching along the floor beneath my skirt, motioned towards Pia’s table. “For facilitating that interaction. I’ll be certain to mention to your father how helpful it was.”
“I didn’t do shit, Mr. Belanger,” JP said bluntly.
My dad’s eyebrows went up to nearly his hairline. Mine didn’t, but only because I felt like I was made of stone, every atom of my being frozen in place.
“You do not give yourself enough credit," my dad said. “I have been attempting to meet with her all summer and—”
“And Nellie was the one who made friends with Claire,” JP interrupted. “ Nellie impressed Claire when she dressed Sydney up at the one event. Nellie cheered Claire up at her father’s funeral. Nellie made Pia Martelle laugh like a possessed robotic magpie with the batteries running out. She’s the one you need to thank. I had nothing to do with it.”
A beat of tension thumped between us. My dad’s lips were pressed in a line and his eyes were trained to JP.
Then he nodded stiffly. “You have my gratitude, Eleanor.”
And without another word, he turned and walked away.
“God, your dad’s a dick,” JP said, no trace of a smile on his face as we watched him go.
“Are you kidding?” I forced a laugh. “I don’t know if he’s ever thanked me for anything. That was a huge milestone.”
JP didn’t say anything, just put his hand on my lower back again. I let it sit there for a moment so I could indulge in the warmth of his touch.
“Nellie—” he said after a moment, his voice so soft it made my skin prickle with pain.
“Come on.” I shook his hand off. “I need more champagne to get through the rest of this shit show.”