Jessica’s [POV]
When I enter the apartment, Dani is standing in front of the mirror, dressed in a floor-length white dress that looks like it belongs on the red carpet.
“Oh, Jess, you’re finally home. You spend way too much time at work. I tried to call you all day.”
“My cell phone died, sorry.” I make my way to the couch, thinking of sprawling on it for a few minutes, debating if I should cook tortillas or just make a simple salad. “Why were you trying to call me? Where are you going?”
“Don’t sit,” Dani warns. “You don’t have time. Go to my room and choose a dress from those on the bed, then get dressed quickly. We’re going to the opera.”
“Oh.” That explains the dress. I’ve never been to the opera, though I’ve always wanted to go. Tickets are expensive. Which reminds me . . . “But we don’t have any tickets.”
She winks, amused. “Yes, we do. We have a balcony box.”
“Who’s we?” I ask quickly, with the nagging suspicion I already know the answer.
“You, me, and Parker. And before you start protesting that you can’t accept the invitation because the tickets are expensive, just know that Parker has rented the box for the year, so no one’s paying anything extra for you. Go choose a dress. We’re already late.”
I hurry to her room, accidentally hitting the edge of a table with my hip and swearing loudly. Our apartment is located in one of London’s least dodgy areas, to quote Parker. In my words: expensive. When Dani and I decided to move in together, it was understood that we were going to split the cost evenly. But a little research revealed that the apartments I could afford were either minuscule, in dodgy areas, or both. James made it clear that in no way was his sister going to live in something like that. That’s how we ended up here, with Dani-and her very generous trust fund-covering most of the rent. When I’m not too busy feeling like I’m taking advantage of her, I can’t help but lavish in the beauty of this place. Built just a few years ago, it still has that new smell. The decor is a weird mix of old and new: the carpets and lighting are on the traditional side, while the furniture is minimalist, with a lot of glass involved. Not exactly sure how we came to this combination, but I like it. Our bedrooms are pretty small, with just enough space for a bed and a closet. But the large living room and kitchen area more than makeup for it. The couch especially . . . I love it. It’s the largest couch I’ve ever seen. Dani and I are convinced that at least six people can sleep comfortably on the U-shaped giant.
There are four dresses on Dani’s bed. All are floor-length and exquisite, and, I realize, not fit for me to wear. Dani and I are the same height, but she’s much more slender. Her hips are narrower and her chest is a cup size smaller. But there’s no way I can find anything remotely appropriate among my clothes. I went on a shopping spree for clothing with Serena before I left the US. I only bought office clothing, nothing I could wear to the opera, especially if I’ll be in a balcony box. Serena’s face when I told her I needed help shopping was priceless. It’s not a secret that I found her clothing . . . a tad conservative, but even I knew what my strengths were: party clothing. When it came to office clothing, I didn’t know jack shit. And I was determined not to show up at work looking like a stripper. Or underdressed, like I had at the interviews.
I chose a black dress that looked to be the least tight of the lot and put it on.
I go into my room to find a necklace to wear, and it takes about two seconds of staring at my jewelry collection to realize I don’t have anything suitable. Oh well, I can do without jewelry. As I leave my room, I notice the ghetto-gold necklace I was wearing that night in the club when I first met Parker, and remember the next days I spent in the hospital.
Serena and my mother were around a lot, with James gravitating around Serena as well. But Parker showed up too, since he is James’s cousin. The first time was the day after I was admitted. I was lying in bed, my thoughts flicking from the cast on my broken leg to whether the scratch under the bandages on my cheek would leave any marks. There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said. The door opened and Parker stepped in, looking every bit as disheveled as I felt. Guilt flooded me when I noticed his swollen eye and split lip, but I tried to smile.
“Well, well . . . if it’s not my knight in shining armor.”
“I guess I left the armor at home last night in the club,” Parker said, pointing at his lip. He sat at the edge of my bed. His British accent had the same dazzling effect on me it had in the club.
“I am so sorry you got hurt,” I said.
“Don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?” His gaze rested on my cheek, and the obvious concern in his blue eyes tugged at my heartstrings.
“I’ve been better. It’s like everything hurts. The doctors tell me I’ll have the cast on my leg for a few weeks, and I’ll have to stay at home for at least a few days. I don’t know how I’ll survive. I’m already bored out of my mind.”
That made him grin. “Of course you are.”
“Do you have your car here?”
“Yes,” Parker answered, alarm springing in his eyes.
“Do you think you could sneak me out and take me for a short ride?”
“My God, you are serious,” Parker said.
“Yes, I am. If you say yes, you’ll be my knight, even without any armor.”
“I’ll have to find something else to deserve that title. There’s no way I’ll sneak you out. You don’t feel well. Besides,” he leaned in, “didn’t they tell you never to get in a car with a stranger? You barely know me.”
“If I took advice of that kind, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place. We can get to know each other later. Let’s go.”
“No chance.” He chuckled. “You look terrible.”
I suddenly became self-conscious and turned my bandaged cheek away from him. Parker stopped laughing. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Leaning in, he added, “You are very beautiful, you know that?”
We danced on that fine line between joking and flirting for the next few weeks. I saw him almost every day and-as he put it-we got to know each other. I liked being around him and talking to him. He patiently listened to me talking about my doubts about the upcoming interview at the museum where I am now working. I never shared those insecurities with anyone, not even Serena. But with him I didn’t feel the need to put up the shield of self-confidence I presented to the world. Though I generally had no troubles with interviews, I was worried about the one in London, since it was the job I wanted most. Parker listened to me and encouraged me. I’d dare say it felt like we were friends. Friends who desperately wanted each other.
Dani grins when I step back into the l
living room. “You look gorgeous.”
“I look like I belong in a porn movie,” I correct her.
“A classy one.” She chuckles. “Let me get something that will cover your cleavage. You can take it off once we are in the box, but I’m not sure you should flaunt it on the way there, or during the breaks.” She disappears into her room and returns with a red cape that covers my shoulders and my cleavage. I stare in the mirror, feeling more than a bit uncomfortable in the dress. The fabric feels too expensive, and the dress too elegant. Slutty elegant. Next to me, Dani couldn’t feel more at ease. Of course, she is. She’s used to this.
“I can’t wait to see Parker’s face when he sees you,” Dani says, her grin even wider.
I narrow my eyes.
“I saw the way he looks at you,” she says knowingly. So her comment to Parker last night was on purpose. Looks like innocent Dani isn’t as innocent as I thought. Good to know.
The cab drive to the opera is punctuated by a ton of questions from the driver who seems thrilled to have two Americans as passengers and has a special interest in California. I do most of the talking, enjoying hearing his British accent more than the conversation itself. I wonder when I’ll get over the whole accent thing. Dani isn’t half as taken with it as I am, but that’s probably because her mother is British.
When I step outside the cab, I’m momentarily stunned as I gaze at the Royal Opera House. The Roman Renaissance building is a dream for a former art and history student like me. I stare in awe at the columns above the entrance while following Dani, who walks in front of me with determined strides.
Judging by the few people in the lobby, I’m guessing Dani wasn’t joking. We are late.
“Finally,” Parker calls, waiting for us a few feet from the entrance. I make a point not to meet his eyes as Dani and I give our coats to the woman in charge of the cloakroom. I steal glances at him, though. The suit he’s wearing is more elegant than usual, a tux with a bow tie. He couldn’t look hotter if he tried. Unless he was naked. Heat spreads through me as he catches my eye and the corner of his mouth lifts into a smile.
“White suits you, Dani,” Parker says.
“Thanks, it’s my favorite color. I should have chosen a different color though,” she says, running her palms on the sleeves of her dress. “If I had a white mask, I think I could channel the Phantom of the Opera.”
Parker laughs, offering Dani his arm, but Dani shakes her head, saying, “You two go, I’ll just grab the program and follow you.”
He doesn’t offer me his arm as we start walking, instead gestures to walk beside him. He stares at me, and I pull the cape tighter around my shoulders and low-cut neck. But even without any cleavage showing, the dress looks painfully obscene on me.
I’m for a low-cut neck and tight dress any day, but somehow a lavish cleavage doesn’t seem to belong with expensive carpets and centuries-old walls. Dani catches up with us.
When we come to a stop, Parker opens the door to one of the boxes, and then gestures for us to get in. Dani steps inside first, and when I attempt to follow her, Parker catches my arm.
“You look beautiful,” he says in a low, hoarse voice that makes my toes curl and heat pool in the lower part of my body. I swallow hard, praying to all the saints and angels for my cheeks not to turn the color of ripe papaya. They do of course. There’s no way for Parker to miss it. Just as he can’t possibly miss the goosebumps that have formed on my arm.
“I feel exposed,” I whisper.
“Can’t say I enjoy the idea of others enjoying… the view,” he says, placing a finger on my chest, exactly at the point where the fabric of my dress meets my breasts, just like last night, as if he could guess where that damn point is even under the cape. Then he runs his finger down my hip and my thigh. I bite my lip.
Parker drops his hand, and I step inside and find Dani seated in one of the four velvet-covered chairs, arranged in two rows. She’s in the front row, and I slump into one of the seats in the second row, hoping Parker will take the cue and sit in front with Dani, and not next to me.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” Parker calls to Dani and me.
“Coming here was a bad idea,” I tell Dani, crossing my legs. I feel like I’m going to climb Parker any second now. That is if he doesn’t climb me first.