Chapter 4
Julie
“A king doesn’t back down,” I said in the elevator mirror as it climbed the building up to a dizzying floor number.
Kingmaker had told me to practice the affirmation ritual. This affirmation ritual wasn’t doing jack shit for me. I groaned, turning away as the elevator slowed with a ping.
“A king wouldn’t be doing this shit,” I muttered, but I pulled myself together with my best attempt at a smile as the doors opened, leading me out into a room with big glass walls that had the most breathtaking view of Manhattan from across the water.
My stomach dropped, a fluttery sensation in my chest looking at it as the doors closed behind me and the elevator rolled on back down.
This was bullshit, and I was so stressed I wanted to cry, spiraling into catastrophic thoughts about what would happen if I couldn’t pay Daniel back, but—at the same time, damn if this wasn’t exactly what I’d come to New York dreaming of.
The rooftop past the doors gleamed with glossy polish, and the Manhattan skyline that dominated the night sky, glistening like gemstones, it was all so much bigger in real life than it had ever been in pictures.
“Good evening, ma’am,” a woman in a neat uniform at the door said, a restrained smile at me. “Can I get your name?”
Well, my life depended on this. No pressure. I tried for casual and breezy. “Cassandra Evans-Pierre,” I said. “Is Krysten here?”
She glanced at her clipboard with eyebrows raised. “Mrs. Evans-Pierre,” she said. “Ms. Adesina said you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”
Shit. I was dead. Organs carved out, floating in the river. I got a cold flush in the back of my head, and I didn’t know what came over me, because I wasn’t a liar, but apparently on some level, I was. I put a finger to my lips. “It’s a surprise,” I said. “Don’t tell her I’m here.”
She stared at me for the most terrifying second in my life before she broke out into a small smile. “Of course, ma’am,” she said. “I’ll let the rest of the staff know.”
“Oh—there’s no need for that.” That came out sounding like the old Julie Branch. I cringed.
“Don’t worry. It’s a professional operation, ma’am. Is your husband attending today?”
Kingmaker didn’t want to tell me I had a fucking husband? Jesus Christ. “Oh, no, he’s quite busy tonight. You know how men are.”
She nodded sagely, like we were in on a secret.
I didn’t know the fucking secret. To make matters worse, the door pinged again behind me, and the elevator doors opened to where three sets of footsteps came out, and I looked back at where my heart jumped at the eeriest sense of déjà vu I’d ever felt.
In the middle of the three, a man I’d have guessed as a Chinese businessman, maybe forty years old, with a hot mid-twenties girl on his either side, talking and laughing like he was the most interesting person they’d ever met, and I made awkward eye contact with the taller of the two, a woman who had been staring at me just a few hours ago.
Oh, god. You really did walk into this kind of place and lock eyes with a Vanity Fair cover model. The receptionist spoke behind me.
“Good evening, may I get your names?”
“Helena Warrick?” I was the one to blurt it. Oh, god. One hot girl looked at me and I lost it. My face burned. Was the blush going to show? I had a lot of foundation, thank god. The woman who could not actually be the one I’d just seen on a magazine cover earlier today smiled flawlessly at me.
“Hi—I’m so sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” she said.
Oh, god. Why the hell had I spoken? I swallowed, taking a second to push out words.
“Oh—no, of course not. It’s just… what a small world this is sometimes.
I’d just seen your Vanity Fair cover earlier today.
Your tell-all. Very enlightening.” I needed to shut the fuck up.
But Jesus Christ if this wasn’t the hottest woman I’d ever talked to.
I’d thought she was photoshopped to look sexy in the picture.
If anything, I think they’d photoshopped her to make her less attractive.
Make sure their readers wouldn’t get too jealous.
She was tall and impossibly hourglass-shaped, long brown hair that had the kind of perfect lift and wave I thought you could only have for a couple hours after going to the salon, slightly tanned skin that practically glowed, and the most smolderingly sexy green eyes that would make a lesser woman lose her mind.
Like me, for example. A lesser woman who was losing her fucking mind.
Helena Warrick gave me an odd look. Maybe I’d said something stupid or maybe she could tell I was having a heart attack over how hot she was. “My Vanity Fair interview? That was years ago now.”
Well, apparently it was years ago now. Maybe that was why she looked even hotter in person, because she just got hotter every day, because that was what people like her did.
“I’ve been getting into reading old issues,” I blabbered.
“I love seeing how the brand changes over the years. I’ve become something of a connoisseur over the past few months. ”
I guess that did it, because she smiled. She had a smile that could kill someone. Namely, me. I think I died. “Have you?” she said. “Maybe I should ask you for your insights.”
“Please do.” Please don’t.
The man with her smiled, a hand on her shoulder. “You are well-connected here,” he said, a thick Chinese accent in his voice, and he turned to me. “I am Cheng Shiyi. I work with Helena’s father. What’s your name?”
Ah, shit. Shit, shit. The receptionist was here. I couldn’t tell them the truth. I felt my forehead prickling. “Cassandra,” I said. “It’s a pleasure. An honor. A pleasure and an honor.” What the hell was I saying?
I thought I’d at least get out of sharing my fictional last name, but the woman at the door was intent on helping me ruin my life. “You can go ahead, Mrs. Evans-Pierre. You’re all checked in, and I’ll make sure everyone knows about you and Ms. Adesina.”
“Ah—wonderful. Thank you.” I was pulling this off swimmingly. Swimming right off a cliff. I pushed out an awkward smile at Helena. “Well, enjoy your night, Ms. Warrick.”
I slipped through the door while trying not to look like I was running for my life, and I took a minute on the outside to catch my breath.
Absolutely gorgeous rooftop party. Full of people who looked effortlessly cool and like they belonged here.
I totally fit in. I’d just go to the bar and…
and what, pay forty dollars for a shot of vodka?
I’d ruin whatever chance I had here and poor Cassandra’s good name with it if I went and ordered a glass of water just to be thrifty.
I went instead to slip through the crowds, my heart going a mile a minute, and I gave people what I hoped were convincing smiles as I slipped across the rooftop and over to the edge, a picture-perfect glass railing with the river below us and the Manhattan skyline across from us.
Absolutely gorgeous. I was going to throw up over that railing.
With shaking hands, I texted Kingmaker.
JULIE
the situation is already out of control here, my ‘friend’ Krysten already let them know Cassandra wasn’t coming and apparently I have a husband and this whole group of attendees heard I’m Cassandra, so it’s just fucking great up here
He called me. I grimaced, taking a long breath, rolling my eyes as hard as I could, and I picked up the phone, whisper-shouting down the line. “Kingmaker, I’m going to fucking kill you.”
“Hey. Relax. Easy. Take deep breaths.”
“I’ll relax once I’ve got my hands around your throat.”
“A king finds opponents on the battlefield, Julie. Now’s your chance to learn how to read people.”
“Read people? What the hell are you talking about?”
“You only need one good contact, and then doors open. Stay Cassandra with anyone who heard you. Watch the room, move carefully. Figure out who will make the best contact for the least effort. Go be Julie with them. Make sure your lines don’t cross.”
“Did you know this was going to happen?”
“A kingmaker knows what he’s gotta know, Julie.”
He didn’t know shit. “What am I even supposed to do? Walk up to someone who looks important and say hi, let’s be friends?”
“Pull off the classic trick. Say you think you met them somewhere else but you can’t remember their name. When you find out you were mistaken and you don’t know them, you’re already in conversation. Once they introduce themselves, pretend you have heard of them.”
“You want me to lie more? Make new lies?”
“It’s not lying if you believe in it enough.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Peace out, Julie. Good luck up there. I’ll see you on the other side a king.”
“Do not—” I started, but he hung up. I groaned, clutching a fistful of my hair in frustration before I remembered that was an expensive fucking hairstyle, and I smoothed it out, standing back upright, putting the phone in my pocket.
This was stupid. But I had literally no other choice but to go along and pretend it wasn’t. I had to… read people.
I scanned the crowds, looking at the different groups that were gravitating together, and I found my gaze fixing on one person, a Black woman with her hair up in a big round bun, who was standing at a table at the side, alone with a drink after the person she was talking to left.
She didn’t seem antsy being alone. That was probably a sign somebody was important enough they knew people would be coming around to talk to them again, right?
None of this would matter soon. No matter how badly I embarrassed myself here, it was all going to be irrelevant after tonight.
And if I didn’t do this, I was fucking dead.
I smoothed myself off, took a few deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart, and I walked towards the woman, trying to look cool, composed, effortless.
I kicked a chair leg by mistake, and it scraped, people looking. Fuck me. I wasn’t good at this.