Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
WILLY
“I’m going to forgive you for not telling me about Brogan,” Crystal declares as she takes a step back to look at me from head to toe. “Because, girl, this is the perfect revenge dress.”
I laugh, twirling around in the red dress in front of the full-length mirror. “It better be because it costs it, too.” A full paycheck, in fact.
Crystal’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Trust me, it’s worth every penny. Brogan won’t know what hit him.”
The dress is a masterpiece of haute couture. Deep crimson silk hugs my curves, the fabric so fine it feels like water against my skin. The sweetheart neckline shows just enough cleavage to be tantalizing without crossing into scandalous territory. A daring slit up the left side reveals a glimpse of leg with every step. The back dips low, leaving most of my spine exposed.
“I can’t believe I’m wearing something this… this…” I struggle to find the right word .
“Sexy? Gorgeous? Absolutely fucking stunning?” Crystal supplies, wiggling her eyebrows.
I roll my eyes but I can’t suppress my smile. I feel like a princess although I wish my fairy godmother supplied the credit card. “All of the above, I guess.”
Crystal starts fussing with my hair, artfully arranging it over one shoulder. “You know, speaking of the Hollister boys, Preston was in the shop the other day.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Buying another one of his weird gifts?”
She nods, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yep. This time, it was a vintage typewriter. Said it was for his dad’s study or something.”
I shake my head, remembering Crystal’s story about Preston’s penchant for the odd trinkets she sells at her shop. “That man and his eclectic taste. You could never even tell looking at him he’s so formal.”
Crystal’s quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, as much as I’ve wanted to hate him for how he treated you back then… I don’t know. There’s something about him. Like he’s trying to make up for something.”
I turn to face her, surprised. “Crystal Francia, do I detect a soft spot for Preston Hollister?”
She scoffs, but I don’t miss the faint blush on her cheeks. “Oh, please. I’m just saying, people can change. Look at you and Brogan, after all. I thought you hated him and all this time…”
Her words hit me harder than I expect, reminding me of the complicated situation I’m in with Brogan. But before I can dwell on it, Crystal claps her hands .
“Alright, enough chit-chat. Let’s get you into these killer heels. You’ve got a yacht party to conquer, and a certain Hollister brother to knock dead.”
Two hours later, I pace the living room of the beach house, my heels clicking against the hardwood floor. My stomach is in knots, a mix of excitement and anxiety churning inside me. I’ve never been to an event like this before. Heck, I’ve never even been on a boat, let alone a mega-yacht.
A knock at the door makes me jump. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart and open the door.
Brogan stands there, looking like he stepped out of a James Bond movie in his perfectly tailored tux. His blue eyes widen as he takes me in, his gaze traveling slowly from my feet up to my face.
“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low and husky. “Willy, you look… incredible.”
A blush creeps up my cheeks. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself, Hollister.”
He grins, offering me his arm. “Shall we, my lady? Our chariot awaits.” I can’t help but laugh as I take his arm.
“Our chariot? Don’t tell me you rented a limo for this little charade.”
“Only the best for my fake girlfriend although there’s no need to rent anything,” he says, grinning. “My family has a fleet, courtesy of my father who loved to collect cars.”
“Ah, yes. His collection.” I’d heard about Brogan’s late father’s collection, an eclectic mix of luxury cars like a Bentley, a Lamborghini, and an Aston Martin, but he also collected what everyone would describe as ordinary, like a 1973 mint green Volkswagen Thing and a 1974 Gremlin. My father used to tell me stories about how Mr. Hollister held on to them because those were the only types of cars he could afford when he was a bachelor. That an heiress like Lorraine Hollister got into his Gremlin for their first date would forever baffle him.
As we step outside, I see the sleek silver sports car parked in the driveway, the moonlight gleaming off its curves, making it look like something out of a movie.
“Oh, wow,” I gasp, unable to hide my awe.
Brogan grins, clearly pleased with my reaction. “Yep. One of Father’s old favorites. It’s an Aston Martin DB11.”
“I don’t know what a DB11 is but… wow,” I breathe, running my hand along the smooth metal.
Brogan opens the passenger door with a flourish. “Allow me to give you the full experience, Miss Genaro.”
There’s something in the way he looks at me that’s both thrilling and terrifying, prompting a silent reminder that this isn’t real. “You do know we shouldn’t get too carried away. This is all pretend, remember?”
Brogan chuckles but it sounds a bit forced. “Right. Pretend. Got it, chief.”
As he helps me into the buttery leather seat, his hand lingers on mine a moment longer than necessary and it hits me: Too late. I’m already carried away.
As we drive toward the marina, I steal glances at Brogan. He looks nervous, too, his jaw clenched, his fingers tapping against his leg.
I place my hand over his. “We’ve got this. It’s just one night, right?”
He turns to me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Right. One night. Together.”
The way he says ‘together’ sends a shiver down my spine. For a moment, I let myself imagine this is real. That we’re really a couple, heading to a glamorous party, ready to take on the world.
But as the lights of the marina come into view, reality crashes back in. This is all pretend, Willy. A charade. A lie.
So why does it feel so real?
As the tender speeds toward the Intrepid, the mega-yacht gleams white under the starry sky, decked out in twinkling lights and elegant decorations. Brogan stands beside me, looking like the perfect Prince Charming in his tux.
But even as his hand finds mine, his fingers intertwining with my own, I feel a growing sense of unease. This isn’t my world, not by a long shot. I’m a simple girl from a working-class family, and the extravagance surrounding me is a stark reminder of just how different Brogan and I truly are.
Stepping onto the Intrepid, I can’t help but marvel at the sheer size of it. It’s like a floating palace, all gleaming white and sparkling lights, opulence everywhere.
We’ve barely taken a few steps when Mrs. Hollister appears, looking resplendent in a shimmering gold gown. She eyes me up and down, a calculating smile on her perfectly painted lips.
“Well, well, Willy. Don’t you clean up nicely? Who would have thought the gardener’s daughter could fit in so well among the elite?”
I feel Brogan stiffen beside me, his hand tightening on my waist. But before he can say anything, I plaster on my most dazzling smile.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hollister. It’s amazing what a little bit of hard work and determination can do. I’m sure you can appreciate that, being a successful businesswoman yourself.”
“Of course, dear. Hard work is certainly... admirable.” She turns to Brogan, her smile widening. “Brogan, darling, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. Calvin Beaumont and his lovely daughter, Beatrice. You remember them, don’t you?”
Brogan nods stiffly, his jaw clenched. “Of course, Mother. It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Beaumont, Beatrice.”
Beatrice steps forward, her red hair gleaming under the lights. She’s stunning, all long legs and perfect curves, and I feel a twinge of insecurity.
“Brogan, it’s been far too long,” she purrs, her hand lingering on his arm as he casts me a quick glance. “We really must catch up.”
I clear my throat, holding out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both. I’m Willy Genaro, Brogan’s girlfriend.”
The word feels strange on my tongue, but I push through the discomfort. Beatrice’s eyes flick to me, a brief flash of annoyance crossing her features as she shakes my hand.
“Charmed, I’m sure.” She turns back to face Brogan. “Brogan, you simply must save me a dance later. For old times’ sake.”
Brogan looks uncomfortable, but he nods. “Of course, Beatrice. If you’ll excuse us, I think I see some friends of mine.”
He guides me away, his hand pressing against my back. As soon as we’re out of earshot, he leans down, his lips brushing my ear.
“I’m so sorry about that, Willy. My mother... she doesn’t know when to quit.”
I shake my head, taking a deep breath. “It’s okay. I can take care of myself. But Beatrice... she seems rather fond of you.”
Brogan runs a hand through his hair. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. Our families run in the same circles. But there’s never been anything between us, I swear.”
I nod, trying to ignore the jealousy simmering in my gut. “I think we both know your mother isn’t going to give up that easily.”
He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Let her try. I’m not going to let her ruin this night for us. Now, what do you say we hit the dance floor and show everyone what a real couple looks like?”
I can’t help but laugh. Real, my ass, but I’ll bite. “Lead the way, Hollister. Let’s give them something to talk about. ”
And as Brogan sweeps me into his arms, spinning me around the dance floor, I can feel the eyes of other guests on us. For a moment I’m tempted to shrink away, to hide from their scrutiny. But then Brogan pulls me close, his hand warm and steady on my lower back.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his breath warm against my ear.
I nod, managing a small smile. “Just a little overwhelmed. I’ve never been to anything like this before.”
He grins, spinning me out and then pulling me back in. “Well, you’re doing great. You look like you belong here.”
I laugh, some of the tension easing from my shoulders. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Hollister.”
And if I’m not careful, right into my bed.
The yacht party continues in full swing, the night air filled with the soft melody of a jazz band and the tinkling of champagne glasses. I find myself at the railing, the cool night air a welcome relief after hours of mingling and forced smiles.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Brogan’s voice startles me out of my reverie.
“Just thinking about how surreal this all is,” I reply as I turn to face him. “A few days ago, I was covered in sawdust renovating your beach house. Now… ”
“You’re the belle of the ball,” Brogan finishes, his tone light but his gaze serious.
“Just like Cinderella before she has to return home before midnight and go back to the real world?”
He takes a step closer, his hand gently cupping my cheek. “I’d say Cinderella after the shoe fits her and he takes her home with him.”
For a moment, I allow myself to imagine it, even if it’s all pretend. A life with Brogan, navigating this world with wealth and privilege. Can a gardener’s daughter really fit in?
“Willy,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips as he lowers his face towards mine. “You belong wherever you want to belong. And I want you here, with me.”
My heart races as Brogan leans in, our lips inches apart. It’s all an act, my brain screams even as the world around us fades away, the sounds of the party becoming distant and muffled. But act or not, there’s no denying how much I want to get carried away in a dream, just for one night.
“Brogan, darling!” Mrs. Hollister’s voice cuts through the moment like a knife, causing us to jump apart. “I hate to interrupt but there’s an urgent matter we need to discuss. Preston’s waiting for us in the private lounge.”
I step back, the spell broken, reality crashing back in. Brogan looks torn, frustration evident in his eyes.
“Mother, I’m in the middle of–”
“I’m afraid it can’t wait, dear,” Mrs. Hollister interrupts. “It’s about the new development project. I know how much you despise the family business, but I need your input, too, now that your father is gone. ”
Brogan frowns. “Oh, alright.”
“Oh, and Beatrice will be joining us,” Mrs. Hollister adds. “Her father’s considering an investment.”
At the mention of Beatrice, I feel a pang of jealousy but I push it away. This is all pretend.
Brogan turns to me, apology written all over his face. “Willy, I’m so sorry. This shouldn’t take long.”
I force a smile, trying to hide my disappointment. “It’s fine, Brogan. Go ahead. I’ll just... mingle.”
As Brogan reluctantly follows his mother, I’m left alone, but I don’t mind it. It allows me to watch the other guests and marvel at the opulence of the yacht. Whether I belong in this world or not, I can always take notes for future projects.
But as time ticks by and with no sign of Brogan, I wonder how much longer I need to wait. Suddenly I overhear a commotion near the lower deck.
“Gentlemen, please come with us quietly,” a security guard is saying to a group of well-dressed men. “Illegal gambling is not tolerated on this vessel.”
One of the men protests, “We were just having a friendly game of poker!”
“A friendly game with ten thousand dollar buy-ins?” another guard scoffs. “You’ll be escorted off the ship immediately.”
As the group is led towards a waiting tender, an idea strikes me and I approach one of the guards. “Excuse me, I’m feeling a bit unwell. Would it be possible for me to join this tender back to shore? ”
The guard looks me over, then nods. “Of course, miss. Please, this way.”
As I board the tender, I cast one last glance at the yacht. I hate leaving like this but I also can’t wait for Brogan forever.
Minutes later, the marina comes into view. The moment we dock, I make my way toward the beach. If I follow it toward downtown, I’ll get to the beach house, no problem, and I’ll return to my old life.