20. twenty
twenty
LYSANDRA
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Camille exclaimed, squeezing my hands.
We’d been standing under the bridge of Edinburgh Castle.
Its looming structure was set ahead, enchanting me with its neoclassical tones.
It was one of those sightseeing days that we had scheduled in our calendars to take a break from the frustrations of our adulthood.
But the views had become rather bland when she mentioned a party at Ezra’s apartment.
Zack had given her an invitation to celebrate the new successful deals with Blue Tower Productions, my book included.
So Long, Scotland was being celebrated by the people who inspired it, and I didn’t mean that in a positive manner.
Zack and Ezra were the ones who ripped me to shreds five years ago. Ezra, specifically. I never cared much for his friend until I realized how much he was influencing Ezra's antics.
“I’m not going,” I replied.
“It’s your book that is being honored tonight,” Camille argued.
My crimson heels clicked beneath me, along with Camille’s snake print boots. It was Saturday morning, the blue skies above shone with a golden blanket encompassing it. I breathed in, enjoying the smell of rain and the sound of crinkling orange leaves.
“Not just mine, but also other authors that signed with the company. No one will notice my absence.”
“Ezra will,” Camille replied, giving me a sharp, narrowing glance. “And there’s going to be several journalists invited for the first hour of the party, which means they will be hoping to get insights on the deals that were signed with the authors. Which means, you are required to be present.”
“I only trust one journalist.”
“Yeah, well, your cousin is in New York and not Edinburgh. So the ones invited by the production company will do.” She poked my shoulder as we walked closely together, our arms entwined with each other.
Nonetheless, I rolled my eyes when I realized that she wasn’t requesting me to make an appearance at the festivity, but rather, ordering me to go.
“Why did you ask if you knew you were going to have to force me to go?”
“I tried to be cordial about it, but you’re just not helping yourself. It’s like you love to see people beg for you.”
“What girl doesn’t?” I questioned with a smirk.
“You are evil, Guerrera,” Camille sighed. I shifted my focus to her; she seemed to be pondering on something before her face lit up. “We need to find you a dress that will make Ezra drool when he sets his eyes on you.”
I chuckled. “I have a hunch that he is the real reason as to why you want me to go.”
“Of course! The guy deserves to hurt the same way he hurt you. And our form of revenge will be a gorgeous dress”
“And Zack doesn’t deserve a bit of this revenge too?” I questioned.
“Z-Zack will get his punishment as well,” she stuttered.
I sent her a skeptical glance. Knowing Camille, she probably didn’t make it difficult enough for him to return to her life again. Zack knew how to charm her when we were at Blackthorn House Academy, and she had decided to break things off between them when she discovered what he had done.
“How’s his hearing?” I asked.
“Still impaired in one ear.” She winked.
She did have a good argument, though. It wouldn’t hurt to eat some good, rich people food while looking extremely attractive in front of my ex-boyfriend.
“Let’s go shopping,” I said with a grin.
“He’s not going to be able to take his eyes off of you,” Camille squealed as she jumped side to side, nearing the front door.
I feared that the people inside would hear her, but then I could feel the pounding of the cadence within.
It was one of those parties where there would be violins playing, platters of cheese being passed around, and thin wine glasses being clinked in every corner of the loft.
Which meant the attire needed to be pristine, elegant, and poised.
Camille and I had spent almost four hours at the mall, trying to find the perfect dress that would potentially capture Ezra’s gaze and still fit my personality.
We decided to go for a white dress with round buttons that ran from the collar down to the waist. It had a soft neckband bending above the collarbone. The skirt flew freely below my hips. It was a comfortable gown, made of satin, which kept me warm against the crisp autumn air.
“Let’s hope for the best,” I muttered with a sigh as she knocked on the polished wooden door.
We were met by a petite blonde in a black and white suit, a platter balanced on one of her hands. I wasn’t ready for the many parties that would be planned after the movie deal. I just knew that my publisher would want to host one, and knowing Camille, she would as well.
So many parties in the name of business and networking. I hated this part of being an author.
“Welcome, ladies! Come on inside and enjoy yourselves. Would you like a bit of Gouda?” The woman extended the platter toward us, almost shoving it into my mouth.
“I’m okay,” I struggled to say, pushing the plate away slightly.
The blonde woman nodded and headed into a buzz-filled corridor. My heart raced as I ventured deeper into the apartment. I was still engaged to Aldair, I would have to remember to remain restrained.
My discipline wavered when I spotted Ezra laughing with a glass of wine swirling between his fingers. His blue eyes shone under the candlelight, and his skin glowed under the luminosity of the chandeliers hanging above.
I wondered how he seemed to be the spitting image of a celestial being.
“You’re salivating,” Camille whispered, leaning toward me.
I sighed and elbowed her. “Well, don’t make it obvious.”
“Let’s mingle and circle back. That way you don’t seem desperate,” she suggested. I rolled my eyes.
“Nothing’s going to happen,” I argued.
“I doubt that.” Camille smirked as she patted my arm and disappeared among the crowd. I watched as she grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the servers.
It was difficult for me to make conversation with the other guests; I had no choice but to remain in the kitchen.
Near the food. The platters beside me were my only support system as I noticed Camille entranced by Zack’s discourse.
From where I stood, I could see the sparkle in her gaze.
He didn’t deserve her, no matter how much he claimed that he had changed.
She was too good for him, but she didn’t realize that.
I felt a burning rage building up inside my chest when he leaned down and whispered into her ear.
“Isn’t it an odd sight?” he asked. I was ripped from my thoughts by his angelic voice. And there he was. By my side, a magnificent grin playing on his lips.
“I don’t like it,” I said bluntly. I didn’t care if Zack was his childhood friend; Camille was worthy of so much more. Perhaps even a prince.
“I don’t either, to be truthful.”
My gaze caught his, one of my brows quirked upward. There was a sense of dignity on his part, knowing that his friend didn’t deserve Camille.
“Now that you’re here, I wanted to express my gratitude for extending an invitation to us.”
“Of course. Your team and my own have been working so closely these the past weeks, I thought it would only be fair if I requested your presence at my bash.”
I would have smiled back at him, had this whole conversation not felt so phony, so professional, so distant. I hated it. This wasn’t us. We went far deeper than this, like the depths of the oceans.
“I’m overjoyed that you came because otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that you look beautiful tonight,” he said. I smiled and lowered my gaze to the white dress I’d been wearing, blood rushing to my cheeks.
“You don’t look so bad yourself, Van Dorren,” I muttered under my breath. He never did anyway. If only I could truly express my admiration for him.
Loud chatter began to spill through the kitchen. Several servers began to pass between us with silver trays and dishes being balanced within their grasp.
“Coming through!”
“Hot plate coming through!”
“Pardon.”
“Behind you.”
Countless waiters and waitresses pushed past each other. A crowd grew beside Ezra and me, and we remained silent and pressed against his kitchen island. I feared that one of those plates would fall on the ground.
My fears became a reality when the blonde server who opened the door for me and Camille crashed into Ezra. The glass of wine in his hand slipped and spilled over me.
I gasped as the warm burgundy liquid ran from my chest down to my stomach.
“Lys, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I sighed, holding up a hand, setting my glass on the counter.
He grabbed a white rag that was over the handle of his oven, dabbing it on my dress. “Here,” Ezra whispered.
He paused once he realized where he’d been patting the rag. I cleared my throat, a maroon shade covering my cheeks. I reached for the rag, our hands brushing. I gulped once I heard him let out a breath.
“Where’s your washroom?” I asked.
“Follow me.”
His fingers wrapped around mine as he pulled me into another long hallway.
Paintings in golden, thick frames lined the walls of the corridor.
The thresholds of the many doors situated in the corridor had been painted white with copper knobs.
His apartment seemed out of my reach, only reminding me why we parted in the first place.
Ezra then opened the door to one of his lavatories.
The restroom had been rich in gold and luxury.
The tiled floorboards had been waxed and polished, shining under the fluorescent candlesticks hung on the walls.
Mustard-hued curtains hung across the windows.
A bathtub situated near the window, and a fireplace across from it.
“Why do you need a fireplace in here?” I questioned.
“Where have you been all these years? Do you not understand how cold it gets here?”
I chuckled. “But is it really necessary to have a fireplace in here? You could just turn on the heater.”
He blushed. “What if I wanted the bathroom to have some sort of class?”
I sent him a glare. “Of course.”
Ezra kneeled before the sink, opening the cabinet and taking out hydrogen peroxide and baking soda. As he set the items on the counter, I sighed. There was no point in trying to remove the stain.
“It’s fine, don’t worry.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“It’s a lost cause.”
“No, we have to at least try.”
“There’s no point, Ezra. It’s okay,” I chuckled, motioning for him to put the items back into the cabinet.
“No, but there has to be something I can do. I’m really sorry about your dress. I can reimburse you—”
I laughed. “It’s fine. No need to lose your mind.”
He let out a breath as he set the bottles back into the compartment. Once he closed the cabinet, he stood and met my gaze. We remained still, looking at one another. Our eyes speaking a thousand words without us having to enunciate a single sound.
I looked away. I was still engaged to Aldair, I reminded myself.
Then he cleared his throat, walking toward his fireplace. But he didn’t kneel to ignite the fireplace; instead, he hauled open a glass cellar. Ezra pulled a long bottle with a red tip from within the rack. “It’s twenty-three years old, from the best chateau region of France.”
I widened my eyes in surprise. “Sounds expensive.”
“Sit with me?” he asked as he sat before the hearth, pressing a button near the fireplace. Orange embers came to life as warmth began to creep into the bathroom. I hadn’t noticed how chilly it had become. I walked toward him and carefully claimed the space in front of him.
Nothing good could come from being this close to him, but I would be near him, and that was all that mattered to me. My heart was already shattered, what were a few more cracks?
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to be this close,” I confessed.
His brow furrowed. “Why? It’s not like we are going to do anything that could hurt our reputation, status, life, or relationships.”
“The simple act of me sitting with you, in such an intimate manner, could be misinterpreted,” I argued.
Ezra set the corkscrew at the top of the wine bottle, the cork popping in just the perfect way. “By who? Your fiancé, who isn’t even here? The journalists who were forced out of my apartment after gathering their intel in the first hour of the celebration?”
I sighed. He had a good argument, perhaps a few minutes wouldn’t hurt me too much.
“Want the first sip?” He extended the bottle to me, the maroon liquid swirling inside.
I grabbed the bottle and swung it over, taking a big chug. “So tell me about this fiancé of yours.”
A question appeared across my face.
“How did you meet him?”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to talk about my future husband with my ex-boyfriend,” I chuckled. I noticed the way he flinched when I said the word husband. The words hurt me just as much as they pained him.
Did he notice how much I grimaced just by even talking about him?
“Fine, fine. I met him at a hospital.”
“What?” he exclaimed.
I laughed at his wild look.
“How in the world…” he trailed off, not being able to finish the question.
“It sounds weird, I know.”
“Sounds weird? It is weird, Lysandra.”
I shook my head before taking one more swig of the wine bottle, the handle growing slippery as my hands grew slimy. I hadn’t been this close to him in so long. And not just physically, but emotionally.
I knew I would regret opening up to him. I knew it the moment his eyes glimmered in jealousy as I told him the story of how Aldair and I met. Nonetheless, I continued the story of how I wound up in the hospital the night of Cami’s twenty-first birthday dinner.