Page 25 of Falling for your Fake Boyfriend

Iflopped back on the big bed. Flopping back wasn’t accurate. The bed was so high off the ground, it had required a strategic launch for a proper flop. The lace canopy was intricately woven with tiny, winged angels and flowers. As sumptuous as the bed looked, between its carved mahogany posts and beneath its mountain of satiny pillows, the mattress was a little hard for my taste, like everything else in this uber-wealthy lifestyle.

Thankfully, the cocktail party had ended by the time Luke and I returned from our walk. The comforting, soft snorts and earthy, warm smells in the stables had helped me regain the composure that I’d embarrassingly lost. I had no idea why I’d reacted the way I had. Luke and I were not a couple. That plain fact was now settled firmly in my brain like a stubborn ring around the tub. Alexandria had been so extraordinarily gorgeous, and Luke had reacted as any man would when meeting someone like her. And I suppose, if I thought about it, I’d suffered a flash of jealousy. But it was gone now. I would make sure it stayed that way. I’d stick this out for the seven grand and then Lucas Greyson was free to do as he liked, even date the glorious Alexandria.

“Darn her and her glorious-ness,” I muttered. Apparently, a smidgen of jealousy was still lurking around. I would have gladly stayed in the outlandishly appointed bed, but dinner was being served promptly at eight, as I was told snootily by Amy, the assistant. She reminded me that while it wasn’t formal dress, shorts and T-shirts were discouraged. One thing was certain: I was getting a taste of the good life, and so far, it was as bitter as a spoonful of cocoa.

I slid off the bed, almost as if I was liquid. Once my feet hit solid floor, I regained my resolve to get through this weekend with my dignity intact and my heart tucked safely in my chest. (The seven grand in my bank account was a bonus.) After assuring several of the horses in the stables that they were indeed the prettiest horse on the planet, I’d reached just the right amount of horse flattery zen to rationalize my thoughts and emotions. I had one bad moment out on the path, but then I never expected Alexandria the Gorgeous to come gliding around the corner in her perfectly pedicured bare feet and designer dress.

The moment had strained my relationship or friendship or business partnership or whatever the heck it was called with Luke, and I intended to repair that by playing the part exactly right. I had three more days of smiling politely, and aside from that, I planned on just being myself. If the snooty-tooties didn’t like it, that was fine by me. On Sunday, I’d leave this ostentatious and, frankly, garish mansion and never look back. In a week’s time, all of this, Luke included, would just be a funny memory, a story I could tell my grandchildren over a bowl of buttery popcorn.

I could have easily refilled the tub with bubbly water again and soaked until my fingers turned to raisins, but I had to get dressed for dinner. And since shorts weren’t an option, I pulled out the dress Layla had tucked into my suitcase as I was busy filling it. It was an off-the-shoulder mid-thigh confection with a snug bodice and flouncy skirt. A bold pink floral pattern was splattered on a white background. It was a little snug on top, and I had to do a few maneuvers to get it zipped, but the full-length mirror was giving me a hearty nod of approval. “Well, done, little sis.”

I spritzed some perfume behind my ear. It wasn’t the thousand-dollar-a-bottle stuff that was polluting the air over the veranda, but I liked the fragrance. It was light and citrusy. I combed out my hair and tucked it behind my ears, then pushed in the diamond studs Ella lent me. I refreshed my makeup and checked the time. I didn’t want to be early or late. I was sure either of those things would earn a pernicious comment from Margaret or Amy. And even if that happened, I didn’t mind. I was going to be myself. I wasn’t going to pretend to fit in because that would be an impossible feat … thank goodness. I never wanted to fit in with that crowd. Most people envied this lifestyle, but I actually felt sorry for Luke having to grow up in it. I much preferred to be a member of the population who got excited when they found a cute dress at the second-hand store and who would stand in line in the hot sun to get a free cake at the coffee cart. Those were my people, and I planned to keep it that way.

I sat down for a quick bout of meditation; a relaxation technique Ava taught me after her trek through India. A knock on my door cut it short. But that was all right. I was feeling rested and ready for whatever Margaret Greyson threw at me.

I hurried to the door, hoping to find Luke on the other side. My disappointment was probably a little too obvious when it turned out to be Amy. She was holding a filled garment bag over her arm. She looked me up and down. “I dropped by to see if you needed a dress for tonight’s dinner.”

I held out my arms and spun around to show off the flirty skirt. “Nope, I’m ready and roarin’ to go. Which way to the mess hall?” I was done putting on airs and pretending to think their way was the right way.

Her nostrils flared with disapproval. “I suppose this will have to do.”

“Yep. I’ll be right down.” I closed the door before she could say anything else.

Amy’s unexpected intrusion made it necessary to go back to a few minutes of meditation. This time a text interrupted my quiet time. It was from Ella. I’d sent her a photo of the manor.

“This is like a fairy tale,” she commented.

“And there’s even a wicked stepmother,” I texted back.

She sent back a question mark.

“I’ll tell you all about it. I’ll need to relay the whole thing in person. Just won’t be the same through texts. Gotta go. Dinner is being served.” My stomach grumbled as I typed out the worddinner. Hopefully, the food would be more likable than the hostess.

A few wrong turns later, I ended up at the entrance to a cavernous room that I quickly deduced, by the long, polished table set with linens and fine crystal, was the dining room. I’d come to realize that, as luxurious as the house was, my taste did not line up with Mrs. Greyson’s. While I loved the pale teal paint on the walls, the brown floral printed wallpaper running along the top of the room made the otherwise light and airy room dark and gloomy. A carved marble mantel stretched and arched over a gaping fireplace on one side of the room. Three large portraits with Victorian women lined the opposite wall. One woman looked at least slightly quirky with her frilly parasol and pet cockatoo, but the other two, with their dour expressions, seemed to match the dark and gloomy wallpaper. Tall silver vases overflowed with wispy purple larkspur and long white roses. The table was so packed with plates, glassware and silverware, it was hard to find the wood beneath. Tall chairs of polished wood and red silk upholstery filled up every space around the table.

“You’ll be sitting over here.” I already recognized Amy’s dry, monotone voice. She marched across the floor like a robot and pointed to one of the chairs. The cardboard analogy was really working.

“Am I early?” I glanced at the ornate gold clock on the mantel. “I was told dinner was at eight.”

Amy rolled her lips in to tamp down a grin. “That’s right. You shut the door so quickly I wasn’t able to tell you that dinner had been moved to 8:30 to accommodate some guests who were running behind and needed more time to get ready. The Carltons. You might have met Alexandria.” She punctuated her comment with a grin. She pulled out the chair and motioned for me to sit.

“Yes, we met. Well, if I’m early, I think I’ll do a little exploring.” She looked disappointed. Apparently, she thought it would be a nice, deflating start to the evening for me to sit alone in the dining room well before anyone else arrived and the meal was served.

I turned and headed back toward one of my earlier wrong turns, where I’d discovered a library that was filled from floor to ceiling with books. I found the right door on the first try and did a little victory dance in my flouncy skirt before entering. The room was two stories high with bookshelves on each floor. The ceiling arched all the way across, and each arch was adorned with hand-painted green and gold leaves. Sage green wallpaper peered out between oak bookshelves. I was rethinking my assessment of Margaret’s taste. This room was truly beautiful.

My eyes swept the entire room. “Holy moly, this is something else.”

“Glad you like it. It’s the only room my daughter-in-law kept original.”

I gasped and spun around. An older woman with a magnificent plume of gray and white hair sat in one of the deep-seated, tufted armchairs. An open book lay face down on the round arm of the chair. She had on a black cashmere sweater topped with a simple gold chain.

“Are you lost?” she asked.

I could feel that darn blush creeping up. “Not exactly. I mean, I was, earlier. I was looking for the dining room and then I stumbled upon this room, and since they told me I was too early for dinner, I thought I’d come take a closer look at it. It’s just gorgeous. I’m Isla, by the way.”

“Oh, you’re Luke’s friend. Rachel told me he brought a date.” She smiled up at me. “Very pretty. So, they forgot to tell you about the time change for dinner, too, eh?”

“Yes.” I walked to one of the shelves and perused the titles. “What a collection! Are most of them first edition?”

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