Page 42 of The Client
I don’t know how to answer that. Rhys is definitely not my boyfriend, but also, I am not telling my teenage sister that I have been purchased by a millionaire for six months. No, Rhys isn’t my boyfriend. Right now, he’s my owner.
As I think of how to respond, a brilliant fantasy opens up inside my mind. I don’t think too much about it as I let the words tumble out of my mouth.
“As a matter of fact, I have met someone. He’s been helping me learn more about the modeling industry and even helped me get the job I was telling you about.”
“Is he handsome, like Prince Charming?”
Well, there’s no need to lie about that answer. “He’s handsomer than Prince Charming. The most handsome of any prince you’ve ever seen. But, not really a prince. Just handsome.”
She begins asking a million, rapid-fire questions. “Tell me about him! Did he pick you up in a limo? Did he bring you flowers? Tell me everything,” she begs with a happy sigh.
“Eva, slow down.” I can’t help but laugh.
“Are you going to get married?”
“Not all fairytales end with a wedding, you know. We’re still getting to know each other. Right now, we're just going on dates and enjoying each other’s company. I don’t really want to look beyond that.”
The line goes staticy again, and I wait to see if I will lose the call. But then I hear her asking for me to tell her about our last date. I let my mind continue sinking into the fantasy, expanding it and creating it into something that any girl would want. It has to be far, far from the reality I’m in, doesn’t it? If my sister knew what was going on, she’d never believe in love. I don’t want her to lose that innocence, that hope.
“Well, he had his driver take us to a restaurant, where we had dinner reservations. It was the kind of place where you have to know someone to get them—very tiny and very fancy.”
“What did you wear?”
“A sleeveless blue dress and a pearl necklace. And he wore a dark gray suit with a blue tie that matches his eyes. He held my hand while we talked over candlelight, sipping wine. We shared some caviar and toast, and then we ordered dessert before our meals. Cheesecake with raspberries, which he fed to me. It was just like something from a movie.”
Of course, none of that happened. Oh, what if it had? What if Rhys had caught my eyes over the table at a fancy restaurant, his flashing sapphire and candlelight as they practically ate me up? What if he’d held my hand so tenderly, and listened intently to what I had to say is if my words actually interested him? What would it be like for Rhys McConnell to actually want me?
She’s waiting for me to continue, but I can’t. I can’t keep this up. It’s all a lie. And I don’t want her becoming invested, thinking that maybe someday she’ll come to America and find that her sister has the perfect Prince Charming waiting to welcome her with open arms. That’s never going to happen. I can’t stand the thought of breaking her heart.
“I have to go help Aunt Sofia set the table, Izabela. When will you call again?”
I don’t want to hang up. But I’m afraid if I don’t, I’m going to continue filling her head with fantasies. And because, if I’m honest with myself, there’s a stupid, silly, childish part of me that wishes the story I was telling was real, too. “Soon, honey. Very soon. I promise.”
Something pops into my mind, and I quickly talk into the phone before she hangs up. “If that man shows up again—”
But she’s gone. The line goes dead with an eerie silence rippling with static.
Staring at my phone, it’s a few minutes before I can put it in my pocket. I need to get home, to keep her safe from whatever Konstantine Zoric has up his sleeve.
Tears fill my eyes at the hopelessness of my situation. I’m trapped here, like a prisoner. Stuck in this country, in this house, with a man who I just made my sister believe is the perfect boyfriend. A groan rumbles from my throat and dislodges into a loud sob. I’ve been in my room for a while and I have no idea if Rhys’s home or not. Not that I care. Not right now.
I don’t hold back the tears as they come with pained, desperate sobs that bubble from my lips. There is a strange man watching my sister, my family, inserting himself into my reality by turning a threat into something very real.
If I’m not careful, there’s no telling what might happen to them. And if I’m not very, very careful, I might start believing the lies I told my sister about my very own Prince Charming.
The sound of footsteps outside my door draws my attention. Slapping a hand over my mouth, I get up from the bed and tiptoe to the door to listen. But all is silent.
Wiping my eyes on the hem of my t-shirt, I crack the door open and look out—only to see Rhys’s back as he retreats down the hall. On the floor at my feet, there’s a tray holding hot tea, a little plate of sugar cookies, and a box of tissues. It takes a moment for me to comprehend what I’m looking at. Is he trying to…comfort me?
Picking up the tray, I carry it inside my room and shut the door as a fresh waterfall of tears floods my cheeks. This time I’m not crying out of fear or longing for what could be. I’m crying because it’s too late.
I’m already falling for the story.
16
IZABELA
Slinky navy-blue dresswith spaghetti straps and a side-slit halfway up my thigh. Matching stilettos with gold heels. Hair perfectly curled and hanging in glossy waves around my shoulders. Tinted gloss on my lips, loads of mascara, and gold hoops in my ears.
