song : orsten - fleur blanche
dedicated to royal_girl14
Frank Skrein didn't drive Julia home that afternoon as planned because she insisted she wanted to stay. Whether it was because of her interest in polo or that Williams kid playing the polo, he couldn't tell. He didn't want to, all right. If it was the former, he would say he was surprised. The latter, however, didn't strike as something good to think about.
They were in the stable, Julia and Skrein, hiding from the warming sunlight. The large shed was made of weathered oak planks with a sloping ridged iron roof. The cheering of the audience watching the polo match was faint. It smelled damp in here. Half empty hay nets hung limply in the corner. Door hinges creaked in slight wind.
Julia was hovering over her horse, her pale slim hand over the animal's shiny metallic coat while it drank from an almost empty black plastic bucket of water.
Skrein was only trying to do his job.
"Miss Julia, Mrs. Eden specifically told me to get you home by..." he trailed off when Julia spoke, her jewel-like blue eyes on his.
"Skrein, I will be here until the match finishes. You can drive me home with dad." Her face was expressionless as if she had just had the last word.
She did have the last word. Right now, she wanted to be with Chanel. Her father was in the lounging area, gambling with a Russian oligarch, trying to guess who'd make the last goal. She didn't want to be there when her father would lose a large amount of money and grow visibly red in front of everyone, including Peter Williams.
Skrein, defeated, left the stable. It was eerily silent since all the other horses were being pampered for the match. At the end of each chukker or break, each player dismounted and got on a fresh horse. At the higher levels, the professionals were switching horses every three to four minutes, maybe more, to keep the fresh horse advantage. Such cruelty!
If Robert Eden, Robbie, as Julia called her twin, was alive and here, he would've been mocking her for her love for horses. Robbie disliked Chanel to an extreme level and for Chanel, the feeling was mutual. But Julia never understood how to tell him that apart from Robbie, Chanel was her closest friend as a child, even closer than Noah Clarke, Darien Pryce and Olivia Portman. Robbie, however, was a cheerful kid, with many friends and admirers, the complete opposite of Julia, her father's favorite twin.
And he wasn't the only child her parents lost.
Narcissa Dunne had Keith Eden in the eighties when she was approximately nineteen years old, unmarried, young, beautiful and in love. Her parents probably used the term 'lost her mind' instead. Even now when Julia contemplated, she could imagine Grandpa Dunne clutching at her golden hair, pushing her against her tiny bed, telling her that he hoped she would die.
It was like a bad dream.
Her mother had another boy when Keith was five years old. He was named 'Liam', an imaginary beautiful little golden-haired boy who ended up as nothing but a pool of blood on the oak floor of the first penthouse her father had bought in Central London. Narcissa and Nicholas then tried once a year as if it was their seasonal duty.
Then came Robbie & Julia, two bright lights filling the Eden house with glory, happiness & pride. Julia's parents realized that they had been so frightened this time that they never really picked out names. In German, the meaning of the name Robert was famed, bright, shining. In Latin, the meaning of the name Julianne was Downy grace. But Robert was the child they planned on, Julia wasn't. She might as well have clamped onto her twin's ankle and snuck into this world, uninvited.
Her father, preferring Robert over a lot of things, told everyone so.
"Hi." The deep male voice startled Julia, causing her to shift uncomfortably on her riding boots. Behind her stood Neal Williams, hands in the pockets of his white Jodhpurs.
"Hi," Julia smiled as if her heart hadn't skipped a beat just a second ago. The rosy glow on her cheeks, of course, didn't help.
"Is she yours?" He took a step forward, hay murmuring under his tan riding boots, his eyes on the white Akhal-teke in front of her.
"Hm. Beautiful, isn't she?"
"Yes." He reclined his head with a lopsided smile. "Beautiful... you can ride bareback."
It wasn't a question. He had seen her throw in the first ball, riding the horse who now stood before them, without a saddle and a riding crop. Julia would die before taking that torturous crop close to her horse.
"I was six when I got Chanel. I had plenty of time to learn." She looked back at Chanel who chewed her food peacefully. "Do you ride often?"
"Not really. I don't have a horse back in Boston," he shrugged, coming forward to touch Chanel's silky cream mane. The horse neighed fondly under his caress.
A bitter smile curled Julia's lips at the horse's betrayal.
The silence was like an electric charge. Julia swore she could hear herself breathing. "For someone who doesn't ride often, you were pretty good today." Her voice came out awfully high-pitched.
"Thank you." So very casually, he added, "I'd say impressive though."
Julia laughed, "Only a fool flatters himself, a wise man flatters the fool."
"Edward Bulwer-Lytton if I'm not mistaken," he muttered with a chuckle, looked down and shoved a hand in the pocket of his Jodhpurs again.
"You're not."
"Are you free this evening?"
Julia's laughter faded. "Why do you ask?"
"Dine with me," he spoke so effortlessly. Julia's eyes dropped to his bright red Mandarin Oriental labeled polo shirt, trailing up to the top button that was undone, then to his square jaw to his lips. They moved as he continued, "We can do anything you want as long as it's respectable."
Julia's gaze met his gray eyes, and almost immediately she could feel the blood rushing under her skin pathetically.
"Comes from the man whose first question was who I sleep with," she mocked helplessly.
"I'm not proud of that," he sighed. "Besides, your admirer made it look pretty obvious. I can deduce a lot of things, but whether he's just a..."
"Friend?" She cut in, "He's a friend."
"A very good one, I s'pose."
"I write his name on places and draw hearts around it sometimes," Julia murmured impatiently.
"Does he know?"
"I have no idea."
"Then I'm asking you to dinner before he does."
Julia only blinked. "I have a party to attend tonight."
"I can drop you there afterward then," he suggested with a kind smile.
Julia swallowed, having remembered why she wouldn't be early to the party anyway. Come and help us, Jules, hell Michelle's high-pitched voice rang in her ears. With her eyes on Neal's, she made a decision.
"Seven o'clock okay for you?"
"Yes," Neal responded, unaware of his damp black hair touching his forehead.
"Okay."
"I'll see you then." With that, he only smiled before casually walking out of the stable, hands still in the pockets of his Jodhpurs. Well, it was okay. The gray eyes Julia had sketched last night belonged to Neal Williams anyway.
It was dark and dreary that evening when Julia downed a loperamide, exfoliated, toned and moisturized herself. The tiles of her balcony and the branches of the Dogwood tree were slick with rain.
Neal arrived at approximately 7:01 which made Julia wonder if he had been waiting outside the house to pass the time. She was only in her classic ivory Agent Provocateur robe, buttery blonde hair in loose waves, perfumed, just done with her makeup. Standing at the starting step of the stairs, she watched Neal walk in, pointy shoes clicking over the white marble, one hand in the pocket of his black sports jacket and other holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
That bouquet was going to put way more stress on the date than there needed to be. Standing by the Dryad statue at the entrance, he finally asked Lucy, the maid, "Is Julianne home?"
This was her call. Dismissing the maid with a wave, Julia smiled, "Yes, I am home."
He looked up, gray eyes landing on the flowy satin of her robe. If she wasn't mistaken, he might have blushed, just a little.
Julia walked down, the sound of her marabou slippers echoing through the foyer. Reaching down, she looked up through her mascara coated lashes and waited. He wore a white Ralph Lauren t-shirt underneath the sports jacket, which he teamed with black skinny jeans. His shock of black hair was swept back into a quiff, droplets of rain hung to it like diamonds that shone under the light. His cheekbones were as sharp as cut glass and in the fading light of the evening, Julia could just make out the dozens of infamous freckles that decorated his pretty face.
When he didn't speak, Julia took the bouquet from his hand, unannounced. "That's really sweet of you to bring these."
"Uh, well, thank you. I am early, aren't I?" he almost stammered, cool and measured Neal strangled by the chandelier overhead.
"If you say so," Julia smiled, walking past him and into the kitchen. Lucy, the maid who had opened the door, looked up from whatever she was doing when Julia marched in.
"Do you have those crushed vitamins for the flowers?" Julia held the flowers up to emphasize. The maid obliged, handing her what she wanted from one of the drawers. Returning with a water-filled crystal vase, Julia set it down on the foyer table, cut the stems at an angle, added the crushed vitamin C pills to the water and put the fresh-cut flowers into the vase.
Neal stood awkwardly, watching her.
"Upstairs?" Julia stole a glance at him as she removed the guard petals absentmindedly. Taken aback, he blinked twice and then replied, "I'm fine here."
"Wait in my room. We can talk while I change."
"After you, then." He held out a huge hesitant hand for her to lead the way. The first door on the second floor led to Julia's bedroom. Suddenly self-conscious, Julia regretted her own decision. Having Neal inside the room made her claustrophobic.
And she was just in a robe. What was she thinking?
Neal was observing the room, a strand of black hair had escaped his quiff. He absentmindedly tucked it in, his eyes taking in his surroundings, liking the scent. He could make out the notes of marigold, night blooming lily and oak moss in the air.
She is wearing a Ralph Lauren perfume.
The walls were pale gray, light from the mirrored furniture reflecting on them. A silk blush quilt lay across the mirrored canopy bed. Two mirrored nightstands sat on both sides of the bed, two white Canaan lamps sitting on top of them. The balcony door right across the entrance was covered with gray lace curtains. The sight of the Dogwood tree behind the balcony door made Neal gag subconsciously, reminding him of how the odor could be outside.
The depth of the indentations in the cream carpet told Neal that Julia had been frantic this evening.
"Make yourself at home," Julia smiled, her face awfully pale even after the presence of makeup. Is she sick? As she went inside the walk-in-closet by the mirrored study desk, Neal noticed her bookshelves, his eyes straining on The Great Gatsby, Wuthering Heights and more books like those.
She likes the classics.
His eyes were now on the large black and white portrait hanging on the wall just across from the foot of the bed.
It was a picture of Julia, hair knotted up into a bun, diamonds hanging from her earlobes, her eyes downcast, the heavy lashes casting a shadow over her pale cheeks. She wore a sleeveless black (at least it looked like black from the edit) sequined dress, her cleavage on full-frontal view.
Neal wanted to say something witty, tell Julia how gorgeous that picture was to overcome the effect.
Julianne Eden was gorgeous.
When he turned, his voice was caught in his throat at the sight. The door to the closet was slightly ajar and from here, it looked as though Julia wasn't aware of that.
He could see her shrugging the robe off, her back to the door. The ivory fabric pooled around her bare feet. From the drawers, she pulled out something silver. Then she reached to unhook the bra she had been wearing. Neal's breath hitched, his eyes averting instinctively. Her skin was pale and flawless, and lovely to look at. Her soft golden curls swayed along with her perfect ass she moved. Almost immediately, Neal walked towards the balcony door, cursing under his breath.
Julia turned at the whistling sound of his voice but couldn't tell what he said, her eyes straining on the door. Slightly frowning, she reached for the knob, and noticed Neal pacing back and forth by her balcony door, raking a hand through his dark hair recklessly, a bit flushed. Sighing, she shut the door fully, before pulling out two pasties from her lingerie drawer and then retrieving a satin plunge dress.
At her return, Neal seemed a little calculated and cool, his eyes not once wavering from her face. Then the dicky feeling surfaced inside her stomach, when he said, "That portrait is beautiful."
Julia looked at her own picture hanging on the wall and sighed a thank you to him.
"We have a reservation," Neal added, slightly disoriented.
"Oh."
Taking it as a response, Neal hastily walked out of the room, his eyes bewildered. Julia made a wry face and without any choice, followed him.