Diamonds Are Not Forever

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER THRITY-EIGHT
Juliette

I felt the absence of warmth by my side. I was in that no-man's-land of being barely conscious but aware, reaching my arm over to the empty side of the bed as I sprawled out on the king-sized mattress.
When my eyes eventually fluttered open, I found I was all alone in the bedroom.
The room was settled in a peaceful quiet, a warm glow emitting from behind the curtains as sounds of the countryside chirped in the distance. It was a far cry from my usual wake up call of my annoying alarm clock ringtone and the sound of Milo rushing around for school.
It took me a few minutes to adjust to my surroundings, the familiar blur around my eyes from my lack of contacts. Elliot had been smart enough to pack an overnight bag, but he couldn't have prepared for my crappy vision. I didn't have my contact solution to hand, but luckily, I'd put my spare glasses in my bag just in case.
I felt around blindly on the floor for where I had dumped my clutch, not wanting to leave the warmth of the thick quilt to get out and properly look for it.
When my hand connected with the pleather gold material, I triumphantly pulled it up onto the bed and retrieved my glasses.
The room was just as I'd left it. All sleek wooden paneling on the wall and expensive soft furnishings that made the vast room feel cozy. Mrs Truman was an excellent interior designer.
When I eventually sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I spotted a small note folded on Elliot's pillow. With nimble fingers, I peeled it open and read as quickly as my eyes would allow.

Gone shooting, breakfast is on the nightstand.

- ElliotP.s. Don't choke.
My head quickly shot in the direction his bed side table, where a silver tray and pot of coffee sat waiting for me. When I uncovered the breakfast, my stomach grumbling at me to hurry up and eat, a smile filled my whole face.
Sat perfectly presented on the plate was a toasted bagel, smothered in cream cheese. The joke wasn't lost on me.
"Arsehole." I muttered through my grin, not really meaning it, as I picked up the plate and took my first bite.
After I'd enjoyed my breakfast and coffee in bed, I found some of the clothes I'd picked at the boutique in Elliot's overnight bag and laid them out on the bed, waying up my options.
Elliot had done a pretty good job of putting some of the outfits together, a few blouses, a skirt and some tailored trousers that would all work perfectly well as outfits. But when my hand landed on a pair of blue jeans he had obviously packed for himself, the soft denim inviting against my fingers, I knew there was nothing that would compare.
I quickly threw on a pair of his boxers and pulled the jeans up over my thighs, they were a tight fit, but I used the trick someone had taught me at school when your jeans are too tight. I looped my spare hair tie through the buttonhole then hooked the elastic over the metal button, giving me enough room to move. Perfect.
Paired with a cozy cream sweater, I looked comfortable but presentable.
After I'd cleaned myself up and pulled my hair out of my face, opting for a low ponytail so my wayward frizz wouldn't get in my way, I went on a hunt through the house to find the rest of the Trumans.

I found Elliot's grandmother, his aunt, his mother, and Millie in the conservatory attached to the back of their kitchen. It was a large, practically all-glass construction that overlooked the sweeping fields at the back of their property, the perfect place to laze the day away.
The elder of the Truman women were sat on plump looking sofas around a coffee table, drinking tea from a matching China set as they chatted amongst themselves. Meanwhile, Millie had set up shop in front of one of the vast glass panel windows, an easel and canvas propped beside her, mixing paints on a wooden handheld palette as she stared off into the distance.
How the other half live.
Mrs Truman spotted me first, her eyes lighting up as she gestured me further into the room to join them. "Good morning, dear. I hope you slept well."
"I did, thank you."
Millie glanced over her shoulder then nodded for me to come over as I greeted the rest of the women around the table, conscious of my outfit choice compared to their well put together idea of 'casual'.
"I thought you were never going to wake up." Millie quipped when I reached her side, hovering her loaded paintbrush over the canvas. "I've resorted to painting scenery like a 18th century maiden."
I snorted a laugh, looking at what she'd painted so far.
It was the foundations of a scenic nature landscape that mirrored the trees and hills protruding in the distance through the window, a palette of yellow sunlight, amber leaves, and fern green grass.
"I thought you painted abstract?" I had asked, remembering my favourite painting of hers from the gallery before Elliot had whisked me away to his apartment.
Millie scrunched her whole face up with concentration as she started speckling her brush on the painting to emulate the illusion of far-off oak trees, not looking away from the canvas as she spoke. "I do, but my mentor in New York said its good to keep trying new styles, it keeps me fresh and open to expressing myself more freely in my art."
That made sense, if I only designed rings I'd go crazy, I liked variety too.
"How did the debut at the gallery go, by the way? I feel like I didn't get to talk to you much yesterday to ask." I felt bad, I'd been so wrapped up in the enthralling and sometimes overlapping conversations at dinner to get a proper chance to chat to her or Ashley one on one.
"Good, really good." She washed off her brush and dipped into another colour. "Most of my paintings sold, actually."
I moved around her to the other side of the canvas, to get an alternative view and also because I sensed I was in her light.
"Did your purple one sell? The Hasting Hills one?"
Millie looked at me proudly, "It did, I love those paintings. Was that your favourite?"
"Yes." It was the only one of hers I'd gotten the chance to see, but I didn't tell her that. "What was your inspiration for that by the way?"
She pointed the end of her paintbrush in the direction of a clearing at the far end of the Truman's property, "You see over there where the tree's part?"
"Yeah."
"That's Hasting Hills, there's a pond there that me, Frankie and Elliot used to play by when we were growing up." Her eyes softened with fondness at the memory, her love for her cousins evident. "It was best in August when they were both home from boarding school and the nights were light so we could stay out longer, Frankie taught me how to fish there."
"Your childhood sounds dreamy." I sighed wistfully, aiming to keep the hint of jealousy from my voice.
Millie shrugged, "It wasn't all roses," she shot me a sympathetic look, like she'd said the wrong thing. "But we're lucky for what we have."
We fell into a comfortable silence after that, her layering paint on the fabric canvas as I watched over her shoulder in awe. It was a good few minutes before she spoke again.
"Hey erm-" her shoulders straightened as she cleared her throat. "You haven't heard from Teddy recently, have you?"
I'd almost forgotten about the flirtation that had started up between them, a knowing smirk rose on my lips.
"No, I haven't. Have you?"
She sighed heavily.
Oh no, what have you done Teddy?
Millie's voice dropped into a whisper, conscious of the prying eyes and ears around us. "He's been super flaky, like one minute he's all for me and the next..." She trailed off in thought.
"Teddy is a great guy," I nodded. "But he can be really obtuse when he wants to be."
"Right!" Her voice raised an octave, causing Mrs Truman and Millie's mother to lift their heads in our direction. She adjusted her tone and continued. "We've texted a few times since the Gallery but nothing...concrete."
Millie placed her paint brush and pallet down in defeat, her face morphing into a sulk that didn't suit her otherwise perfect face.
I stole a glance over her shoulder, making sure her family wasn't listening in on our conversation. I was greeted with three pairs of eyes watching us carefully over the brims of teacups.
"Do you want my advice?" I kept my voice as low as possible.
She nodded enthusiastically, her ponytail bobbing up and down with every movement of her head.
"Maybe we could head somewhere a little more...private." I subtly nudged my head and flicked my eyes in the direction of the open patio door behind me that I'd spotted when I'd entered the conservatory.
Millie picked up on my queue instantly, "I'm going to show Juliette outside." She called over her shoulder, looping my arm and practically dragged me out into the crips autumn morning air.
When I knew the others were out of earshot, I continued. "Teddy isn't a particularly complex guy. He doesn't like to play games when it comes to relationships, he wouldn't be able to see a hint or signal from the opposite sex if it was right in front of his face. He needs direct communication, but delivered in a gentle way so he doesn't feel like he's being overwhelmed."
I could see the invisible cogs turning behind Millie's eyes as she took mental notes of everything I was telling her.
"He loves rugby, stuffed crust pizza and spending time with his niece. His favourite colour is purple, he hates anything that involves being in or around water and his idea of a good time is drinking a few cold beers in his apartment with the sports channel on."
I surprised myself with how much I knew about Teddy, but working so closely with someone came with knowing their quirks and interests.
"You are an angel sent from above, Juliette." She gushed, throwing her arms around me.
I accepted the embrace, chuckling into her shoulder as she squeezed me tightly. Elliot's uncle was right, me and Millie had become fast friends.
Suddenly, the sound of a gun firing off in the distance made me jerk away.
"What the hell was that." I gasped.
Millie giggled, throwing her hand on her hip as she leant on the railing and pointed behind me. "That would be clay pigeon shooting."
I followed her finger, pushing the frames of my glasses further up my nose so I could make out the small crowd gathered on the lawn.
I spotted Ashley first, a shotgun cocked in her hand as she made aim at her target, a disk that had been sent flying into the sky. She looked at ease, her face fixed in concentration as Frankie towered beside her. A second of silence passed before she pulled the trigger, hitting the clay disk perfectly so it shattered midair.
She had once told me she wasn't good at doing everything, which I had accused her of, but that she liked winning too much to fail at anything she put her hand to. Clay pigeon shooting was no different, it seemed.
I cheered her on silently as Frankie took the gun from her hands and reloaded it.
The other Truman men seemed impressed with her too, nodding their heads in approval as she geared up for the next shot.
"I'm going to go text Teddy now, before I forget everything you've told me." Millie hummed from behind me, I wanted to turn around and reply, but I was too engrossed in the display on the lawn.
Another disk was sent hurtling forward, matched by another perfect aim from Ashley. When it crumbled to the ground, I couldn't help myself. I cheered loudly, bringing my fingers to my lips and whistling like I was at a football match.
Everyone's heads whipped around at my outburst, a megawatt smile on Ashley's face as she spotted me and waved vigorously.
I got my first sight of Elliot, his face mostly concealed from a baseball cap he had pulled low over his eyes. He was dressed the most casually I'd ever seen him, clad in a tan leather jacket and faded jeans. His mouth curved up in a slow and sexy smile as he tipped his chin back to get a better look at me, a shot gun rested over his forearm.
Frankie leaned into his ear and uttered something unknown, which made him scowl in his direction before he turned back to me.
I laughed to myself; his signature scowl was never too far away.
Elliot felt in his picket for something, pulling it out and fumbling with it in his hands as Mr Truman stepped up for his turn to shoot, his brother close by his side.
My phone buzzed against my thigh in my pocket.

Elliot: Good morning.

I smiled down at my phone stupidly, feeling strange that I could see him as he text me. I typed out my reply in double-time.

Me: Good morning. Thank you for the breakfast in bed.

Elliot: My pleasure.

When I looked up from my screen, everyone had turned their backs to me again as the watched Mr Truman anticipate his shot, including Elliot. But another text still came through.

Elliot: Fancy a walk when I've finished shooting?

My hands hovered over the keyboard of my phone, trying to think of something witty to say.

Me: I thought the amended Agreement said I didn't have to exercise.

The back of Elliot's large shoulders moved up and down, like he was laughing to himself. His head lowered over his phone again as he text me back.

Elliot: Guess I'll just have to force you to walk with me at gun point then. I'm a good shot, you'd do well to remember that.

Me: I have Ashley Goulding on my side, I've seen what she can do.

Elliot: I'll come find you when I'm done.

Unexplained excitement unfurled in mystomach, a grin not leaving my face even after I had left the patio.