Recognition
“Even if he does, he won’t say anything tonight. What is he going to do? Blurt out, ‘Ella, is that you?’” She didn’t need Charles to ask her that question. She’d been over that particular scenario a thousand times in her head and had no good answer for what to do if he were to call her out. Deny, deny, deny.
Charles laughed at her impersonation of the Frenchman. “No, probably not. I’m just worried about you, that’s all.”
“I’ll be fine,” Ella assured him. “Besides, you’ll be in the club, too, right?” Charles nodded. “If I need you, I know you’ll be there.”
“Ready to sweep you away The Bodyguard style,” he said, referencing an old movie Ella had only seen once but one he seemed to like. He mentioned it frequently enough. It made sense that a security guard would like a movie about a bodyguard--unless it wasn’t done well.
“Thanks,” she said with a smile, thinking of Kevin Costner carrying Whitney Houston out of a dangerous crowd of fans.
Ella’s phone vibrated. She pulled it out of her handbag to see it was Rome. She didn’t want to talk to him at the moment, so she ignored it. She needed to be in character for this; he would understand that. Besides, what could she possibly say to him? “Not now, dear husband. I’m about to go on a date with another man.”
About ten seconds after her phone stopped ringing, Charles’s phone rang. He snickered. “Shall I answer? He’s my boss after all.”
“Sure,” she said. “But I can’t talk to him right now.”
Charles nodded in understanding as the downtown area came into view outside of Ella’s window. They’d be there soon enough. “Hey, boss.” His voice was quiet, his words clipped. “No, she’s fine. Just getting ready to go in. Doesn’t wanna talk right now.” He made a few short noises that showed he understood or agreed with whatever Rome was saying and then said goodbye, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “He just wants you to know he loves you,” Charles said quietly.
Without turning to look at him, Ella said, “Thanks.” She loved him, too, but at the moment, she had to forget that. This would work best if she could make Henry believe that she not only didn’t like Rome, she hated him. Ella wasn’t sure she was capable of that, but she’d thought of a few comments she could make to let Henry know that she was glad Rome Verona was no longer part of Montage. It could always go farther if necessary.
The car pulled up in front of the club. Chavet was hopping tonight. The line to get in was at least thirty people deep. She wouldn’t have to wait in that line, and neither would Charles, thanks to her fame and her persuasiveness. Even though he wouldn’t be entering with her in case Henry was looking when Juliet Montague got out of her car, the buzz of the crowd shifted to cheers--oohs, and aahs. She approached the man at the door who immediately pulled it open for her. “Thank you. My man, Charles, will be coming along as soon as the car is parked. Please let him in as well.”
“Of course,” the tall, dark-haired, muscular man said, looking her up and down. He was big enough to be a bouncer if he wanted to be, which might be why he was the one manning the door on such a night. No one was going to mess with this dude.
She smiled in gratitude, maybe a bit of flirtation because, why not? She was single after all… and headed into the club.
A remix of Lady Gaga’s newest hit was playing loudly over the speaker as Juliet took her time looking around the club. She would be in no hurry to find Henry--or anyone else. She saw him, sitting in a booth about halfway up an aisle near the dance floor but with its back to the area where plenty of people were gyrating in groups and couples, many of them splashing drinks all over their designer shoes as they lost themselves to the beat.
Seeing a few other famous faces she recognized, Juliet waved at them, blew a few kisses, and pretended as if she hadn’t just come there to see Henry. One of the models she’d met before at an event, Stella Goff, grabbed her dance partner by the arm and pulled him toward her. When he saw who they were going to say, he picked up the pace, a broad smile on his face.
“Oh, my God, Juliet!” Stella said, bending down to wrap her arms around her shoulders. She had to be at least six three without the stilettos. “How are you, darling?”
“Good, good,” Juliet said, trying to sound slightly bored. “And you?”
“Wonderful. The club is alive tonight! This is my boyfriend. I don’t think the two of you have met. Langston Jackson, meet Juliet Montague.”
Langston offered his hand, and Juliet took it, but then he bent down and kissed her just above the knuckles. “Lovely to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Why, thank you,” Juliet said, not sure if she should add anything. She had no idea who the tall, handsome man might be.
“Langston plays football for the Raiders,” she explained. “Wide receiver.”
Juliet might know something of American football, but Ella knew next to nothing, so she only nodded. “How lovely,” she said, still sounding slightly bored but infusing her voice with a bit more cheer than before.
“I was hoping perhaps you might be able to get your hands on another Ward for us,” Stella said, taking hold of Juliet’s arm at the elbow. “We’d love to have one in the new apartment.”
“I just signed a lease on a lovely three-bedroom over on Burbank,” he explained, his smile widening to show his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Very posh.”
“Tre chic,” Juliet said, trying to look slightly impressed. “I will have a few at our next show, coming up in a month or two. Definitely come.” Her eyes fluttered around the crowd again. Henry was growing impatient. He raised his eyebrows at her, and Juliet thought she had better make it to his table before he came after her. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting an… acquaintance.” Friend seemed like too much of a stretch. She squeezed Stella’s hand. “Lovely to see you.”
“It’s always wonderful to see you, Juliet,” Stella said, tipping her head to the side and breathing in deeply.
“Langston,” Juliet said, grasping his hand next. “We’ll talk again soon.”
“Definitely.” His eyes dropped lower than necessary. Juliet pretended not to notice that or the furrow that immediately formed between Stella’s eyebrows.
Inhaling a deep breath as invisibly as humanly possible, Juliet headed for Henry’s table, praying that she wouldn’t screw this up. Even looking at him made her stomach knot and her fists want to clench, but she couldn’t let him see that. He had to think she was happy to see him--or at least not repulsed.
Henry Caron stood near the booth, fixing his tie, a nervousness radiating out of him as he waited for her, a smile playing on his lips. This was it--the first of many dates to come, if this plan were to work. Now, she’d have to touch him. She’d have to talk to him, to pretend she was interested in him. Maybe she even liked him. Perhaps she could even love him someday. Juliet had to be the actress Ella had never been because Ella Verona wanted to punch him in the face and run out of the club. The only thing that kept her high heels pointing in his direction was the sweet scent of revenge.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
