21. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
ANDREA
The venue's name, Glasshouse, was literal. We’re not as high up as Julian’s apartment, but the view is still breathtaking. It’s the time of day when the sky begins to settle, and lights twinkle across the city, reflecting against the surface of the Hudson River.
It’s insane how such a crowded, loud city could appear so serene. I’d never thought I’d be calling New York City home, but that’s exactly what it’s become. It may not be the safest city in the world, but it makes you feel alive.
In Maine, I was my last name; here, I’m anyone. Some might disagree, but there’s a certain comfort in being just another face in the crowd. When people look at me, they don’t see my story—they only see what I choose to show them. And I prefer it that way.
When Julian and I arrived, we were greeted with complimentary champagne, which I politely declined. Julian had given me a strange look in which I told him I planned to stay on my A game tonight.
The real reason, though, is a teeny bit more complicated. He looked downright irresistible in his suit, and I didn’t trust myself not to do something like—well, lick him, or something equally regrettable.
The large room quickly filled with people and lively chatter. Crystal chandeliers dotted the ceiling, casting a warm, gentle glow over everything. Everyone is dressed to the nines and clearly belongs in this atmosphere. Me? Yeah, I’m starting to sweat a little.
My arm is looped through Julian’s and it’s only when he rubs the top of my hand that I realize I’m holding him tightly enough that I’m sure it’s cutting off his circulation.
“Sorry,” I mutter, attempting to release him, but he’s faster. He catches my arm, keeping me close.
“I’m not made of glass, Andrea. Squeeze me as hard as you want,” he murmurs, only loud enough for me to hear.
The way he says it sends warmth rushing to my cheeks, and he chuckles, clearly pleased. I narrow my eyes at him, but remember we’re in public and technically, he’s allowed to flirt with me.
Then his expression shifts, and I follow his gaze to what I assume is our table.
Already seated are two men looking bored out of their minds.
Standing nearby is a brunette woman in a sharp power suit, talking animatedly into her cell phone.
She spots us first, immediately lighting up at the sight of Julian as she ends the call.
I recognize her from my research: Josephine Bonavich, head of the Bonavich Foundation. She greets my fake boyfriend with a kiss on his cheek, holding her lips there longer than appropriate considering I’m standing here with my arm linked with his. I’d admired her achievements up until now.
Julian clears his throat as he gently pulls away from her. When Julian mentioned that he received a personal invitation, I didn’t suspect it was also that kind of invitation. Judging by her body language, it’s crystal clear she wants to sleep with him.
When her beady eyes fall to mine, my first instinct is to shrivel, but I force my shoulders to square .
She blinks at me like I’m a speck of dust and gives me a dismissive once-over. “You brought someone,” she states.
“My girlfriend,” Julian says smoothly, slipping his arm from mine so that he can slide it around my back and tuck me closer into his side. “Andrea Sommers. Andrea, this is Josephine Bonavich.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, forcing a smile despite the thinly veiled hostility in her eyes.
“Any friend of Julian’s is a friend of mine and do call me Josie. Please sit.” She motions to the table, adding with a wink, “These two won’t bite, not unless you ask them to, anyway.” She turns away, getting distracted by something she sees across the room.
“Long time no see, Havord,” says the blond-haired man with an Ivy League haircut, inclining his head in greeting. Ryder Van Doren—CEO and chairman of a tech company, late-thirties, with a notoriously private dating life since his divorce five years ago.
“Not long enough,” Julian jokes, making both men grin.
“You got yourself a missus, did ya?” This comes from who I recognize as Noah Abbot, who’s friendlier looking than Ryder, with dark brown hair and an easy smile.
He stands and offers me his hand, which I take and feel Julian’s arm tighten around me as I do.
Noah chuckles, his gaze meeting mine, his voice low. “And a pretty one too.”
I’m certain he should be affecting me right now, but I can focus on absolutely nothing other than the dizzying feeling of Julian’s hand on my waist.
He’s a 25-year-old trust fund kid, the son of Natalie Abbot; a fashion icon and designer. His public life is a whirlwind of pictures with various women.
I don’t have to worry how I’ll get my hand back, because Julian is shoving Noah’s forehead away the moment he moves to bring it to his mouth. “No touching. God only knows where your hands and mouth have been.”
My eyes widen slightly, but Noah laughs it off. When I glance around the group, I see a warm expression on all of their faces. I’m struck by their warm camaraderie. They’re good friends of Julian’s—whether he’ll admit it or not. It makes me even more curious about them.
“How does a shit like him end up with a delicate little flower like you?” Ryder asks, looking directly at me, and I barely keep myself from grimacing.
Delicate little flower doesn’t sound like a compliment, which is why I reply, “I think dancing in my underwear may have had something to do with it.”
He barks a laugh, scratching his chin. “Aye, that’ll do it.”
The arm that was around me slips away and for some reason, I feel strangely bare without it there. I look over to find him watching me, a warm, approving look in his eyes, his hand resting on the back of the chair. The thrill of his silent praise has me wanting to earn more of it.
I take the seat he offers, and he scoots me closer to the table before sitting beside me. It feels silly, but I hate the distance between us. He’s the only familiar anchor I have here, and I’m tempted to cling to it.
“Where’s Felix?” Julian asks. The name doesn’t ring a bell from my research.
Ryder shrugs indifferently while Noah replies, “Fucking around here somewhere.”
By his tone, I’m thinking he means that literally. They’re different from what I expected—more relaxed, less of the fragile ego I’d imagined. They’re the polar opposite from the guests around us with their noses up in the air.
“So, what is it that you do, Andrea?” Noah asks, leaning back comfortably in this chair.
“I’m a ballet instructor at the Belinsky Ballet Academy.”
He grins, eyes darting to Julian. “My friend has always had a thing for artsy types. What’s Willow up to these days? Haven’t seen her around.”
I turn to Julian, who’s now glaring at Noah, and when he looks back at me, his expression softens apologetically. To let him know I’m unfazed, I reach over to squeeze his knee. He takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and resting them in his lap, as though I’m the one calming him.
“How old are you?” Ryder cuts in, most likely noticing the tension. His eyes dip to my chest so quickly I almost miss it.
“She’s twenty-four,” Julian answers before I can. “And what about it?”
The firm edge in his tone has me sitting straighter in my seat.
Ryder raises his hands defensively. “Easy, mate. Just curious.” His expression suggests he meant no harm, and I didn’t take any offense—but Julian, clearly, did.
“Then use your curiosity to think of something that doesn’t involve you eyeing my girlfriend like she’s on a menu.”
I glance at Julian, trying to decipher if there’s genuine jealousy behind his words.
But he’s just being protective, right? As a friend, that’s it.
It’s the reason I refuse to let my own jealousy fester at the idea of him with other women.
I have no claim to him; no right to feel like a real girlfriend would.
However, it does please me that so long as we keep up this ruse, he won’t be with anyone else.
I catch Ryder’s eyes on my chest again.
I sigh, hoping to ease the tension around the table. “34C.”
Ryder blinks. “Eh? ”
I reach for the glass of water in front of me. “My bra size. Since you were staring, I thought that’s what you were wondering. No?” I lift my brows, taking a small sip. “My mistake.”
Noah coughs into his fist, doing his best not to laugh, and I think I catch a grin from Julian. I keep my attention on Ryder, whose eyes have widened, bordering on horrified.
From behind me, there’s a slow clap. Our attention swiftly turns to a man dressed in a well-tailored navy blue suit, his dark hair slick back with one rogue strand curling onto his forehead. There’s a dangerous look about him and any woman in their right mind would stay far, far away.
As if confirming my instinct, Julian pulls my chair closer to his, a subtle, protective gesture.
“It’s about time someone stood up to Ryder,” the man says to the table before settling his intense gaze upon me. “Ah, you must be the reason why Josephine is in a mood.”
“She’s always in a mood, Felix,” Julian states dryly.
Felix grins, radiating pure arrogance. “She just told me to go fuck myself. Can’t say it’s something I’m asked to do often.”
Julian leans in, his voice low in my ear. “We should’ve brought earplugs.”
I smile, shrugging. “Or tape.”
We’re so close together that his breath mingles with mine, and when he smiles, all the tension in my body melts away. For a moment, I want nothing more than to be alone with him.
There’s no one quite like Julian. He’s a rare species—practically extinct. I haven’t found a single flaw, though part of me waits, wondering if there’s a catch. There has to be one, right ?