I couldn’t stop staring.
The Hayeses had also hired a full wait staff, who were currently weaving through the guests, offering hors d’oeuvres and champagne. Everyone was dressed in black, which made me feel a little less self-conscious, but only a little. Because I was pretty sure I was the only one whose jewelry didn’t have real diamonds in it. I untucked my hair from behind my ears carefully, hoping that no one would be able to tell that I was wearing fake jewels.
There was no sign of Hayley or Emerson’s mother anywhere, but everyone seemed to know Emerson, greeting him warmly as we wove through the crowd. He made introductions, but quickly extracted both of us from the conversation before anything more than small talk could occur. It was clear that most of the people in attendance worked with Emerson’s father. The room seemed to be filled with investment bankers and their society wives. I felt even more self-conscious about my own status—and my fake earrings—as it became clear that I was among the one percent of the one percent.
Netflix and chill was looking better by the minute.
But if there was one consolation, it was that Emerson seemed to be as out of place here as I felt. He seemed restless and tense, and he wouldn’t stay still, pulling us through the crowd, giving me the world’s fastest tour of the main rooms of the house.
“This place is amazing,” I told him, not sure what else to say.
He gave a wry grin. “I guess. Mom gets a bug and redesigns every couple of years, just so she can be featured in some magazine all over again.”
He pulled me over to the other side of the room where Hayley was standing with a glass of champagne and a spinach puff.
“Dinner? Really?” he asked his sister, who at least had the good sense to look guilty.
“I thought it would be better for you to be here while there’s a crowd,” she told him. “You and Dad don’t do well at small events, remember?”
“Where is he?” Emerson asked.
“Probably in the study smoking a cigar,” she said. “You know he hates these parties just as much as you do.”
“Yet he throws them on a regular basis,” Emerson countered.
Hayley shrugged, and Emerson sighed, clearly annoyed. He turned to me.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he told me. “We don’t have to stay long.”
“I don’t mind,” I lied.
Part of me really was curious to explore the house. To see the place where Emerson had grown up. Maybe get a better idea of who he was.
“I might go use the powder room.” I glanced around. “Do you have a map that could get me there?”
Hayley laughed. “It’s down at the end of the hall. Make a left and then another left and then a right.”
I stared at her. “Are you sure you don’t have a map?”
The house was even bigger than I had originally thought. The hall that Hayley sent me down seemed to go on forever, and when I finally reached the end I had almost forgotten the directions I had been given.
“A left and then a right and then another right?” I muttered to myself, opening the door I found.
It didn’t lead to the powder room. Instead, it opened up into a gorgeous study where the walls were lined with expensive—and old—looking books. I stepped inside before I could stop myself. It was by far the most beautiful room I had seen so far.
“May I help you?” a voice asked, and I spun around to find a silver-haired man sitting behind a desk, smoking a cigar.
“I’m so sorry,” I told him, my hand to my chest. “I was looking for the powder room.”
“A few doors down,” the man said, getting up and putting out his cigar. “Though I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Henry Hayes.”
“You’re Emerson’s father,” I said needlessly, immediately seeing the resemblance. Especially when he smiled—which he did just now. Father and son had matching dimples.
“I am,” he said, coming around from behind his desk. “And you are?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I felt unbelievably rude. “I’m a friend of Emerson’s. Alex Matthis.” I held out my hand and he shook it.
He had a firm handshake.
“Ah yes,” he said, leaning back against the desk. “My wife mentioned that Emerson would be bringing someone. You’re a lawyer, am I right?”
“Very nearly,” I told him, surprised that he knew that much about me. “I’m just waiting on my bar results.”
“Where do you work?” Henry wanted to know.
“I’m at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison,” I said, gratified when his smile grew.
“Excellent firm.” He nodded approvingly. “You must be very talented for them to have snatched you up at such a young age. How long have you been there for?”
“Not long,” I confirmed. “I’m one of their summer associates.”
“I know some of the partners,” he told me. “And we’re always on the look-out for new representation. Maybe I should take another look at Patricks, Richmond & Garrison now that I know the high quality of their employees.”
I was flattered beyond belief. This was exactly what Lucinda—and Arthur—had encouraged, and I hadn’t even really had to do anything.
“I’m sure the partners would love to meet with you,” I somehow managed.
“I’ll set up a meeting next week,” Henry said as if it was nothing. “Now tell me a little more about yourself. And your relationship with my son.”
I felt a little like I had been put in the hot seat, but Henry seemed curious and friendly.
“I live in the same building as his bar,” I told him. “That’s how we met.”
“Ah yes, the bar.” Henry crossed his arms and regarded me. “How is that enterprise?”
“It’s wonderful.” I was happy to talk about that. “The opening went better than expected, and people are already raving about it. Looks like it’s going to become a neighborhood staple in no time.”
“Really?” Henry sounded surprised, which didn’t make any sense to me.
Did he not know his son? Because Emerson’s drive and ambition were immediately obvious. I never had a doubt in my mind that the bar would be a success, whereas Henry seemed to have never even considered that possibility.
“And it’s making money?” Henry wanted to know.
I didn’t know how to answer.
“You’ll have to ask Emerson,” I demurred.
“Of course,” he said, and I got the feeling I was being dismissed.
I didn’t mind. I still had to find the powder room after all, and after I left Emerson’s father, I managed to successfully locate it. Then, it was only a question of finding Emerson back in the crowd.
Thankfully, he found me first.
“Where are we going?” I asked, as he linked his hand with mine and began pulling me towards the staircase, despite the fact that it had a little rope and sign strung across it—a sign that said Do Not Enter.
“But—” I pointed at the sign, but he ignored it, stepping over it and urging me to do the same.
“I used to live here, remember?” he said, leading me up the stairs. “I think I’m allowed to go to my old room.”
We reached the doors at the end of the hall, and Emerson pulled me inside. It was dark, but I didn’t care, because Emerson was already kissing me ravenously. He pushed me against the door, his hands slipping inside my dress and cupping my breasts, his thumbs sliding over my nipples. I moaned at the contact—loving the way it felt.
But there was something different about the way he was kissing me. It was tense and ragged, like he was trying to forget something.
“Are you OK?” I asked, pulling away.
He pressed his forehead to mine, breathing heavily.
“This place,” he sighed. “It makes me crazy.”
I didn’t understand. So far, everything had been so lovely. Everyone had been polite, and people had seemed so happy to see him. His father especially had been very welcoming. But clearly, there was something that Emerson wasn’t telling me.
“We can go,” he told me, his hands on my hips. “We can just sneak out the back. Hayley will make an excuse for us if anyone notices—but I’m sure they won’t.”
“We haven’t even seen your mother,” I reminded him, not wanting to be rude. Some first impression it would be to sneak off before dinner. “We can’t leave without saying hello.”
Emerson sighed. “I guess you’re right.”
He stepped back and straightened his shirt, and I took the opportunity to look around the room. It was another scene straight out of a magazine, blue plaid wallpaper on the walls and a nautical theme, with a cozy window seat just made for reading. I could picture him here, the safe, happy childhood he must have enjoyed.
“Your family has a boat?” I asked, looking at the photographs.
Emerson nodded, leaning back against the door. “The Magnificent Hayes, they called it.” There was a dismissive note in his voice, but I could only think how lucky he’d been.
I browsed the framed photographs.
Family trips. All to beautiful, incredible locations—Paris, London, Milan. Places I had always dreamed about going but never imagined I would ever be able to get to. Emerson had lived a life I could only hope for, and here he was turning his back on it—literally.
I didn’t really understand. I knew that every family had its tensions, but Portia and Henry seemed nice, if maybe a little distant, and they clearly seemed to care about their children. Why would Henry have asked about the bar otherwise? Obviously he wanted to know about Emerson’s life.
“Let’s just stay for another hour,” I suggested. “I mean, we’re here, we might as well enjoy the food.”
“You really want to stay?” he asked.
I nodded. “It would feel rude not to,” I said with a shrug. “Besides, if we stay now, then I’ll make sure to show you a good time later.”