Carol steps out of the way so that the man can go past her. “Glad to hear it. Alejandro will take your bags to your room. Would you like to go there first and freshen up, or would you like me to orient you to the grounds?”
I look at Elvis who is still holding my hand.
“Up to you.” He thinks my stare was meant to be a question about the tour. Really, I was trying to determine his feelings about sharing a room. He’s not an all-night-in-my-lover’s-bed type of guy.
I try not to make anything of the fact that he doesn’t seem bothered. “Orientation first, I guess.”
We follow her through the front door only to find there is another door on the other side of the foyer. It’s outside the second door that she types in a code in a panel on the wall before leading us into the actual house.
As to be expected, the insides of the mansion are as grand as the outside. More so, even. There’s a spiral staircase and a crystal chandelier that extends from the ceiling on the upper floor into the great room. Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the extensive acreage line the far wall. The furniture is modern, but everywhere I look, there are touches of opulence. Crystal door handles, gold-plated mirrors, intricate trim work.
Though Elvis is more experienced in the world than I am, he seems just as entranced. “The flooring looks like copper,” I whisper to him.
“I think it is copper,” he says.
Damn, I mouth. He sq***zes my hand in reply.
“Library is in the east wing.” Carol points down a hallway. “As well as the gym, the game room, and the movie theater. Kitchen is in the west wing, but you shouldn’t need anything from there directly. If you’re hungry, pick up any house phone and dial 2. Same with drinks, though there is a bar in the library and another here, off of the dining room.” She points to each thing as she talks about them.
“There’s an actual movie room?” I don’t mean to sound as awed as I do, but I am that awed.
“And a gym,” Elvis t**ses, knowing I have no interest.
“Well, you know where I’ll be,” I t**se back.
“The library.” He lets go of my hand to playfully slap my ass.
Stop, I mouth, feeling my face heat.
If Carol sees the interaction, she doesn’t acknowledge it. She continues on with her orientation, taking us to the windows, I think at first, to let us see how beautiful the view is. It turns out the choice was more practical. “The seating out here on the patio is available to all and can be accessed via the door at the other side of the room. The pool is to the left.” She points. “Pool house beyond. There are showers there as well as a sauna. It’s all coed, so be mindful of that.”
I glance at Elvis, but he’s still looking out the windows.
“The outdoor kitchen is past the pool house. Lunch will be served there in about an hour. Buffet style, so no need to dress up or be on time. On the other side of the house we have the tennis courts and beyond that the stables. There are rackets in the storage room on the edge of the court. Sheva is there with the horses until the evening, if you’d like to ride, but I recommend going in the morning. The grounds are prettiest then and the horses fresh.”
“A ride tomorrow might be nice, Elvis.”
He toggles his head back and forth noncommittally. “Or perhaps a game of tennis.”
He’s tried to teach me and knows I’m a lost cause. “You’re on your own there.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty else for you to do without me.” He drifts away from me to get closer to the window, craning his head in the direction of the pool.
I follow his gaze and see there are people over there. We’re not near enough to make out any faces, but there are definitely women. Shapely women in bikinis.
“You’ve noticed we have other guests.” Carol seems to think that’s what Elvis’s interested in.
I know better.
“Looks like most of them are at the pool, and you’re more than welcome to join them. We’re very casual today. No formal gatherings other than dinner.”
“Is Hadrian around?” I don’t know why Elvis’s gawking makes me think of him, but it does.
Elvis turns back to me at the mention of the CEO’s name.
“I’m afraid he hasn’t made it back from the city yet. But he has asked me to be your host and make sure this weekend is enjoyable to you in every way.”
I’m not sure why I’m disappointed. Or why I’m suddenly worried that this weekend isn’t about talking possibilities or that “creative retreat” might mean something different to Hadrian Seymour than it does to me.
Elvis doesn’t seem to be deflated. He puts his arm at the small of my back. “Should we get to our room and freshen up for lunch? I for one would love to hit that pool.”
The pool or the women at the pool? Sometimes I forget that the distinction shouldn’t be my concern.
It’s forced, but I smile up at him and nod.
* * *
I look up from the book I’m reading to find yet another woman entering the swimming area. Several have come and gone all afternoon. Men too, but I’m not comparing my body to them. It’s because of all the beautiful women—women that have to still be in their twenties—that I chose the fish from the buffet instead of the pasta.
I haven’t recognized anyone so far, but at least one looks like he’s a Seymour, and Elvis has pointed out several industry people. He introduced me to a few at lunch, but no one has interested him enough to draw him away from sunbathing with his iPad. Other than his dip in the pool earlier, he’s stayed by my side.
Doesn’t mean I haven’t caught him looking. Of course, I’ve been looking too, but I assume my looks are for different reasons than his.
When this newest woman strips off her robe, I realize she’s actually closer to Elvis’s age than mine. Then I realize I know her. “Oh my God, that’s Jessa Jones.”
Elvis lowers his head to look over his sunglasses. “I haven’t seen her in years. She looks great.”
I swivel my head to stare at him incredulously. “You never told me you knew Jessa Jones.” She’s the biggest female personality on SNC. He knows what a career crush I have on her. That woman is serious goals.
“I’m sure I have.” No, he hasn’t. “I don’t know her know her. We’ve met once or twice. In passing.”
That means he f**ked her. I hope it was a long time ago, but I decide not to p**ss him about it in case it wasn’t.
As if he senses I’m feeling vulnerable, he reaches over and casually strokes my bare th**h. “You should go talk to her.”
Out of the blue? No way. “What would I even say?”
“I can introduce you.”
Open marriage or not, I find it uncomfortable to be with him and a woman I know he’s slept with. “No. That’s okay.”
He stares at me like he thinks I’m being ridiculous, but when he speaks, his tone is encouraging rather than chastising. “This weekend is about mingling with other people in the business. You aren’t some fangirl approaching her on the street. Be assertive. Talk to her.”
I know he’s right, but I can’t get myself to move from my chair. I’ve assumed all the women in bikinis were here just to be eye candy, but it occurs to me now that they might all be like me—local journalists hoping to get their own show. I put on my smallest bathing suit today too. Are we all trying to use our feminine wiles to get our brains noticed? I suddenly feel silly and small.
Elvis senses my reluctance if not my reasoning behind it. “It’s only our first day here. There will be other opportunities. If it doesn’t feel like the right time, wait until dinner or breakfast tomorrow.”
He’s being understanding, and that makes me feel guilty for being insecure. “No. I’ll talk to her now. I just need a few minutes to practice what I should say in my head.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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