I just had to figure out how the hell to get the answers to my questions. How the hell to find her.
A cab pulled up in front of me, and I hopped in as I pulled up Crew. First things first. I needed to see this picture that Katherine had mentioned. Make sure that she wasn’t lying. I put nothing past Katherine at this point. She knew that I had nothing to do with Jane because of Court. I couldn’t even believe they were still dating a year later. What sort of arrangement had they worked out for that?
As expected, Jane and I weren’t connected on Crew. I pressed the button to follow her. It was a matter of minutes later when Jane Devney’s name appeared at the top of my phone. I clicked on the notification, and her profile opened for me. It was as I’d expected. Her profile shot was of her in some kind of Chanel jumpsuit, looking away from the camera. Her ash-blonde hair framing her face in the carefully constructed way that made it appear effortless. I scrolled past the latest image of her breakfast artfully placed next to Dior sunglasses and an Hermès shopping bag.
I rolled my eyes and went to the next image. The shot knocked the breath from my lungs.
Natalie.
It had been a year since I saw her in anything other than my memories and the scarce pictures that we had together. But here she was in a bright blue dress that clung to her skin like liquid silk. Her utterly unique and wonderful silver hair flowed in waves down nearly to her waist. Her makeup was flawless, which I had to assume meant someone else had done it. Natalie hardly ever wore makeup. She didn’t need it. Her blue eyes were bright and unwavering. The smile small, not quite meeting her eyes. I’d seen her give me that smile. It always came with a question.
They looked like models. Fashion models at a premiere or during Fashion Week. Natalie, who hated this life so much, fit in without even trying.
I turned my attention to the status underneath.
Missed this girl so much. Seeing her at Club 360 tonight was just a bonus. Hope I see more of her face. #besties #girltime #modelworthy #cunninghamcouture #gucci #designerlife
I frowned. What the hell did that mean? Were they friends? Had they just run into each other? And what the hell was this party? Designer life was hardly Natalie’s style.
I shook my head, more confused than ever.
The cab driver pulled over in front of my building, and I hurried inside, taking the elevator to the top floor. A tiny creature came skittering around the corner, racing right for me.
I laughed and dropped to my knees. “Come here, Totle.”
Aristotle, my ten-pound gray Italian greyhound puppy, was all legs and full of love. He harmlessly tackled me to the ground and licked my face with all the ferocity of a puppy who hadn’t seen its owner in hours. Didn’t matter though. He reacted the same way when I’d only been gone minutes.
“Yes, I do love you,” I said, dropping another kiss onto the top of his head. “All right, chill out, crazy.”
I scooped him up into my arms and grabbed his leash with the promise of a long walk through Central Park to clear the cobwebs. Totle had no objections as we strolled through the park, giving me time to think about Natalie.
Maybe she was here on vacation. She’d happened to be in the same place as Jane. I had no idea what her life was like now. Where she was working or who her friends were or…if she was dating someone. And it was none of my fucking business. I’d ensured that by participating in that fucking bet. It didn’t matter that it was all a farce for me just to get close to her. But, of course, she had been right…I hadn’t needed a reason. I could have just gotten close to her.
It was the Upper East Side billionaire, playboy stupidity, which I couldn’t seem to escape, that had trapped me back into its relentless pull. Like trying to escape quicksand. The harder you tried to get out, the faster it pulled you back in.
Still…I wanted to see her.
And there was only one way to find out what she was up to. I needed to use my resources. If I couldn’t go to Jane…I could always go to Rowe.
Penn
8
My feet carried me to his building a few blocks down from mine. I let myself in the elevator that took me up to his residence. I wasn’t sure if he was home, but he hardly ever left unless he had to. He’d opened up Crew headquarters in Manhattan a decade ago and then promptly redesigned his home to include his own office space with a wall of screens to videoconference into meetings. The little introvert.