The Complete Private Collection: Private; Invitation Only; Untouchable; Confessions; Inner Circle; Legacy; Ambition; Revelation; Last Christmas; Paradise ... The Book of Spells; Ominous; Vengeance (142 page)

“Why not? I like it,” I replied.

“Dash had his seventeenth birthday party here,” Noelle said, glancing over her shoulder. “I forgot about it until I saw the room.”

My shoulder muscles coiled at the mere mention of Dash’s name. At the not-so-new but still annoying realization that he and Noelle and everyone at Easton had had very full lives before I ever showed up there. That he and Noelle had a shared history I would never be a part of. I knew that hooking up with Dash had been wrong, but it still stung that he had been able to dismiss me so easily, without so much as a phone call or an explanation. All of this hit me from every angle
as I stood there with Noelle, Sabine, and the Twin Cities waiting for my comment.

“So?” I said finally. “That was almost two years ago.”

“Exactly,” Sabine added, taking my side as always. “And you heard what Lucas said. The room can be anything we want it to be. We can make it look completely different.”

Noelle smirked and glanced over at Vienna, who hid a laugh behind her hand. London simply chuckled out loud. Clearly, they were all so very amused at our naiveté. Which, of course, made my blood boil.

“First of all, it doesn’t matter what Mr. Universe over there says—people will know it’s the same place,” Noelle replied in a facetious tone. “This is supposed to be the event of the season. You don’t want it to feel as if it’s been done before, do you?”

“You really don’t,” Vienna put in with a shudder.

“Like, really,” London added helpfully.

I looked at Sabine, who suddenly seemed as uncertain as I felt. These people were, after all, the experts. And we still had four more places to see. One of them had to be as good. Still, I hated kowtowing to Noelle. Especially with the sting of Dash’s name still searing my skin. But what else could I do?

“Fine,” I said through my teeth. “Let’s just go.”

As we said goodbye to an understandably confused Lucas (I think he’d noticed our collective drool), I realized that even this far away from Easton, I wasn’t completely free of my drama. Until Noelle had mentioned his name, I had forgotten that Dash was supposed to be in
the city this weekend. That he and Noelle were supposed to have dinner with his parents.

Would he pick her up at our room? Would tonight be the first night I laid eyes on Dash McCafferty since the Legacy—the night he’d laid his eyes all over me?

So much for my focus.

Noelle couldn’t stop checking out her own ass. As soon as we’d returned to the suite at the hotel, she’d taken a shower and then come out wearing a black dress that looked staid and conservative from the front with its high neckline, but had such a low-cut back that you could practically see the top of her butt crack. For the past fifteen minutes she’d been standing with her back to the mirror, craning her neck so that she could study the effect.

“Dash is a butt man,” she explained. “You’d think he’d be a boob man, but he’s totally not.”

She finally turned around to smooth her hair. As I sat on the edge of my double bed, all I wanted to do was grab a chunk of her brown locks and tear. She had been talking about nothing but Dash for the past hour. About how he had booked them a separate room in the hotel so they could be alone later. About how it had been so long since they’d been together that he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands off of
her. It all made me so vilely ill I was growing belligerent. I wanted Josh, not Dash. I did. But I was so sick of hearing about how much Dash wanted Noelle. So sick.

“Why would you think he’d be a boob man?” London asked, clicking off her cell phone. She looked down at her own mega-breasts, as if assessing whether they could ever grab Dash’s attention. Vienna was in the corner, trying to wheedle free champagne for the photo shoot out of some vendor who’d done her mother’s third wedding.

“Look at his father,” Noelle said. “He may act all proper and upright all the time, but he’s had
several
mistresses over the years and every one of them? Double-D’s. At least.”

Now I had to glance down at my own flattish chest. The fact that Dash had been attracted to me at all did kind of prove he was a butt guy. But of course, I couldn’t weigh in.

“So you think sexual preference runs in the family?” Sabine asked, holding a dress up to herself as she looked in the smaller of our two mirrors. “Like it’s genetic?”

Noelle rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t trying to be scientific, Frenchie. I was just talking.”

Sabine blushed and went into the bathroom to change her clothes. Yet another of Noelle’s pointless jabs had hit home. What was her damage?

“So, I really think we should go with Loft Blanc,” Noelle said, grabbing her lip gloss and leaning toward the mirror. “It’s the hottest new venue in town. People will be beyond impressed if they see it on the invite.”

Loft Blanc was this admittedly amazing space in the Meatpacking
District with high ceilings, huge windows overlooking the Hudson, and an incredible collection of modern art adorning its otherwise stark walls. It also had outdoor, rooftop space, but considering I was 0 for 2 with rooftops in the past year, that wasn’t much of a selling point for me. Besides, it was November. Who wanted to mingle on a rooftop in New York in November?

“We’ve already been through this. There’s no way we’re having it there,” I told her, getting up and whipping my navy blue dress out of the closet. “Move on already.”

Noelle paused with her lip gloss wand on her bottom lip. She shot me an annoyed look in the mirror, then slowly closed the tube, put it down, and turned to face me.

“Okay, that’s it,” she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. In the mirror, her dress shifted enough so that I actually
could
see her butt crack. If Dash’s mother was anywhere near as uptight as her reputation indicated, she was just going to
love
that dress. “What is your problem today?”

“I don’t have a problem,” I said, yanking my sweater off over my head. “You’re the one with the problem. We’re supposed to be making money on this thing, remember? Raising five million dollars? We can’t spend five million if we want to make five million.”

I shoved my jeans to the floor and stepped into the dress, zipping it up the side. Then I went over to the full-length mirror, subtly nudging Noelle aside, and started brushing through my hair like I was trying to bald myself. Sabine returned from the bathroom, looking simply elegant in a dark gray sheath.

“Everything okay?” she asked me.

“Fine,” I said through my teeth.

“Reed, I thought I was here to help you make the right decision. I think we can all agree I know more about these things than you do.” Noelle walked over to her dresser and selected a pair of diamond earrings from her small Hervé Léger bag.

“You don’t have to insult her,” Sabine said, irked.

“I wasn’t. I was merely stating a fact,” Noelle replied.

Sabine squared her shoulders and turned toward Noelle. “It sounded like an insult to me.”

And to me. But I didn’t say so. London got up and quietly slipped from the room, while Vienna continued to battle it out on the phone, oblivious to the rising tension.

“Reed, haven’t you ever heard that old adage, ‘You have to spend money to make money’?” Noelle asked, ignoring Sabine and training her attention on me. “Or is there so little cash where you come from, the phrase never happened to trickle down?”

“See! Another insult!” Sabine pointed out, lifting her hand.

My face was burning at this point, but I was used to that. I was used to Noelle’s barbs. I knew they didn’t really mean anything. It was just her way. Still, the fact that Sabine was so offended on my behalf made them sting a bit more than usual. “We don’t have any money to spend, Noelle,” I said, dropping my brush on the vanity with a clatter. “I say we go with the St. Sebastian. It was a beautiful space and much more traditional. The older alumni will appreciate it.”

The St. Sebastian was this ancient, converted church with an
arcing ceiling and beautiful stained glass windows looking down from above. When the proprietor showed us photos of the many ways they had transformed the space for weddings, album launches, and fund-raisers, I was sold. Plus it was reasonable. As reasonable as one could get in NYC. Noelle, of course, thought it had been done.

“Fine. We’ll do it your way,” Noelle said. She spritzed a cloud of perfume, then stepped through it. “But we’re going to spend more money dressing that place up than we would if we simply went with Loft Blanc.”

At that moment the doorbell to our suite rang. My heart all but stopped.

“I’ll get it!” London shouted from her bedroom on the opposite side of the sunken living room.

“Dash is here,” Noelle said, grabbing her clutch purse and a sheer silver cardigan off the vanity. “We can talk more about this later.”

Dash was here. Dash was here. Dash was here. The moment Noelle was out of the room, I double-checked my hair and gave myself a quick powder, blush, and lip gloss makeover.

“Finally I get to meet the famous Dash McCafferty. Is he as big a bitch as his girlfriend?” Sabine asked.

I rolled my eyes, shoved my feet into my shoes, and walked unsteadily out to the living area of our suite, my ankles teetering thanks to the thick carpet and my nerves. Noelle was halfway to the door. London was just about to open it. Vienna came tearing out of my room behind me, phone closed now, and rushed to London’s side, all smiles.

What the heck were those two up to? Not that I cared much at the
moment. All I could think was that Dash was behind that door. What would he say to me? What would I say to him? Would Noelle be able to tell what had happened between us?

London whipped open the door and everyone froze. The guy standing on the threshold was not Dash McCafferty. He was, in fact, Dash’s physical opposite. Tall, sure, but tan. Dark. Lean. With long black hair that just skimmed the bottom of his earlobes.

Dominic Infante. Dominic Infante and a single purple orchid in a white ceramic pot.

He glanced around at each of us, dotted as we were around the room, and stopped on me.

“Reed. You look lovely,” he said, holding out the orchid.

Whahuh?

“Look what we imported just for you!” London announced.

She and Vienna flanked the door like a pair of game-show models showing off the latest prize. Noelle glanced back at me over her shoulder, amused.

“Guess someone else has a date tonight,” Noelle said.

Realizing it was my turn to speak, I took a few steps forward. “You came all the way down here from school just for me?” I asked Dominic.

He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my legs, my hips, my chest, and then my face. “Wouldn’t you?”

My heart actually fluttered.

“Damn. Good answer,” Noelle said behind me.

Dominic handed the potted orchid to me, and London whisked it right out of my hands.

“Shall we?” Dominic said, stepping aside to make room in the doorway.

I looked at London and Vienna and their insane Cheshire grins and knew there was no way I could turn this down. Not without a fight. And why would I want to? Why not get out of here before the torture of seeing Dash and Noelle together could occur? Why not hit New York with a gorgeous Italian maybe-prince? This weekend was supposed to be about distraction. About getting away. I could think of no better method of escape.

I smiled and grabbed my coat. “I guess we shall.”

“This place is incredible,” I said to Dominic, laying my long, flat menu aside.

When we had arrived at the small restaurant, tucked away in the West Village, it hadn’t looked like much. Just a brick basement in someone’s brownstone. But once inside, we had been ushered through the small, cozy dining area and out onto this even cozier patio, where only a dozen intimate tables were placed among the trees that grew right out of the brick beneath our feet. There were heat lamps placed around the periphery to ward off the November chill, and white twinkle lights were strung from the tree branches overhead. I couldn’t believe places like this existed in Manhattan.

“I’ll tell my cousin you said so,” Dominic replied.

“Your cousin?”

“Yes. My cousin Antony owns this place,” Dominic said casually. His accent really was alluring. “There is usually a long wait list to get
in, but when I told him of your beauty, he managed to clear a table for us.”

I blushed as I looked across the tiny table at him. Dominic had been saying things like this ever since we left the hotel, but I couldn’t tell if he was serious, or if he was just feeding me lines. But then, what did it matter? I could use the ego boost either way.

“I was thinking that after this I might take you to a couple of my usual places,” Dominic said, placing his menu down.

“Usual places?” I asked.

“Clubs. Have you done the club scene?” he asked.

“Um, no,” I replied. “And I’m not really sure I should. I have to get up kind of early in the morning.”

“Well, you could always just stay up all night,” Dominic replied with a smile. A suggestive smile? “That’s what I usually do.”

“We’ll see,” I replied. Time for a subject change. I didn’t want to know what he thought we would do if we stayed up together all night. “So, is your cousin here? I’d love to meet him.”

“He promised to bring out his special dessert for us personally.” Dominic took a sip of his white wine and smiled. “If we make it through the first four courses. The service here is truly Italian. Which means excessive.”

My stomach grumbled as a delicious-looking dish was carried past our table.

“Sounds good to me. I’m starving,” I replied.

Dominic smiled. “A girl with an appetite. Are you sure you go to Easton?”

I laughed and felt myself truly start to relax for the first time all night. Suddenly I felt grateful to London and Vienna for blindsiding me with this date. If I had gone out for dinner with the two of them and Sabine, I was sure the conversation would have centered around the fund-raiser and maybe even Cheyenne. Maybe they would even have gotten around to asking me what happened with Josh. But here I was simply being showered with compliments and attention. A much more satisfying way to spend an evening.