dedicated to LadyVeniceMaria because you're going to love this chapter!
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He was still here.
Probably he had something to discuss with her father. Whatever it was had to be related to the election campaign and not her being an insolent brat.
Although later she wouldn't remember feeling this guilty. But as she walked inside her father's study after the dinner, she realized that throughout the whole dinner Neal Williams hadn't even cared to take a glance at her. Had she been so arrogant and selfish?
The room was softly-lit by handmade Victorian shade-draped lamps that created a lovely glow about her skin. Her father had probably forgotten why he had summoned her in when he darted his gaze from Neal to her, halting their conversation and looked confused. Neal didn't stare.
The air inside carried the medieval smell of the freshener, tobacco, mint and scotch- a heady regal aroma. Beside the oak desk, an anachronistic fireplace was visible. An excellent forgery of the Last Supper hung on the same wall.
"There you are," her father sighed, pouring himself another glass of whatever he had been drinking and then sitting down on the gray velvet chaise lounge across from Neal again. Neal's glass, however, remained untouched.
"Keith left this for you. Your mother's already in bed. So I kept it when he left." Nicholas's eyebrows knitted, one hand pointing at the shopping bag perched beside him.
Julia took a few steps towards her father, near enough to smell the cigarettes and the cinnamon in his perfume. Gulping what was left in his glass, he set it on the trolley and wrapped an arm around Julia's shoulder, dragging her close to him.
"And this is from your mother and me," he smiled and placed a blue leather square box on her open palms. Only slightly excited, Julia shoved the box inside the shopping bag and picked it up.
"Thank you, dad. But what is it all for?"
"Didn't your mother tell you about the debutante ball?" Her father frowned. "This is what she has been talking about for a while."
"I didn't know," Julia feigned ignorance although she had known about the annual Queen Charlotte's ball for some time now. Only she had no clue that her mother wanted her to attend it.
"I am assuming you haven't chosen an escort yet. No problem, you have plenty of time, Julianne," Nicholas assured her, with crinkling blue eyes. "The ball's after your A levels."
She had enough time to convince Noah then.
"Wait," her father's voice dragged her out her thoughts. "Neal, aren't you going to be in London after finishing your bar? You can escort her."
"Yes, I will be but..."
Nicholas cut him off, saying, "Well, if you are then it's final. Here you go, Julia. Problem solved."
More like problem called, father.
"Thank you, dad," she sighed and turned on her feet.
"Let me know if you like the necklace." When her father ruined the surprise, he sounded a little nervous as he held her hand and smiled. When his thumb stroked the cocaine-filled ruby, Julia's heart rate spiked. She only smiled back.
"I will. Goodnight, dad." As she turned towards the double door, her eyes met Neal's for a split second and she remembered how gray they usually were. "And goodnight, Neal."
*
It was a dress. What was a better present for a ball than a dress? Inside the shopping bag, there was a shimmering pale box tied with a silver satin ribbon. Inside the box, was the most perfect dress she had ever lay her eyes upon.
Lavender embellishment was around the chest and the hem. A trace of mauve had turned itself to an elaboration which had continued to be scattered on the soft ivory fabric. The noteworthy feature of the dress was the white chiffon layering on the white fabric. It was wrapped around the chest, creating an off shoulder effect with two short sleeves adorned with glossy rhinestones. The chiffon had gathered around the waist with a white bodice showcasing lavender lace trims before sweeping down to the feet.
In one word, it was glamorous.
She wanted to try it on for a while and then changed her mind. Rolling her ivory lace-panelled-robe-sleeves, Julia leaned over her vanity table and made two approximately four-inch long lines of cocaine on the mirrored tray that held her perfume collection. Snorting one of the lines, she reached for the blue leather square box that was supposed to have (thanks to dad) a necklace inside.
As she opened it, diamonds reflected on her face from the navy velvet. The necklace was exquisite. The tapered band was designed as a series of pear- and marquise-cut diamond cluster links, each enhanced by a circular-cut diamond. Mounted in platinum, the necklace could be separated and worn as two bracelets.
It was one of those iconic jewellery that you passed on to your daughter or sometimes your daughter-in-law. Julia stared for a while, deciding that none of these diamonds weighed less than four carat. What was her parents thinking?
Almost out of instinct, she picked it up and placed it around her neck. Her skin looked washed out at the presence of the diamonds but it complemented the silky robe she wore over her tiny night slip. She gazed at her own reflection, liking what she was seeing. It was the sort of classical look Hollywood always wanted.
She remembered a Gossip Girl dialogue abruptly. I am Grace Kelly, Grace Kelly is me.
The corner of her bee-stung lips curved at that thought.
Julia Eden, who had seemed so timid and unsure this whole evening, felt like million pounds. She reached for the paper she had rolled to snort coke and held it near the second line she had made. Halfway through the snort, a sound came from outside her door.
Bugger.
Another knock startled her, not coming from the right where the door was supposed to be. Her head whipped towards the balcony door, eyes trying to detect the pale face through the sheer gray curtain and the glass. Sliding the cocaine tray behind the piles of perfume bottles, Julia tightened her robe and moved the curtain aside.
"How did you...?" She trailed off, opening the door slightly.
Calculated grey eyes stared back. "Can I come in?"
"No." She tried to shut the door on Neal's face. "How did you even get in?"
"This stair leads to your balcony and—"
"And you thought you could just sneak in?" She glared. "Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so. I came through the living room." He pointed his thumb behind, towards downstairs.
"How did you know about this stair?" She scowled.
"I am observant, Julianne," he smirked with certain pride which she wanted him to swallow right at this moment.
"Why didn't you notice the surveillance cameras then?" Her tone suggested derision.
At her response, the smirk was wiped off his face, eyes darting down to his pointy shoes. "Fuck."
When her eyes widened, he tried to apologize, only to be dismissed. He stayed there for a few more minutes, his forehead pressed against her glass door and then asked, "Can I come in?"
She didn't reply.
"Please."
Letting out a barely audible groan, she opened the door, noticing how dishevelled he looked. He was still wearing what he had been wearing to the dinner, the navy tailored suit. His shoelaces weren't tied properly. His wavy curls were out of place. And he had come through her balcony. What a fucking cliche.
"You're lucky that they don't monitor this stairway," Julia sighed, rubbing her temple and squeezing her eyes shut for a split second. The hammering inside her skull had started unexpectedly.
"Are you okay?" Neal's voice was low and almost soothing.
"I'm fine," she muttered briefly and held the ballgown up from the bed to put it away. The dress almost dropped from her hand.
"Careful." Neal pointed at the dress that she clutched tight against her chest.
"Why are you even here? Please leave." Her finger straight indicated the lawn.
"I came for a reason," he sighed, moving hair away from his forehead. And she checked him out, pausing when she noticed his shoes on her rug.
"Could you..." She nearly shrieked, marching towards him and placing the dress on her mattress. "Did you have to wear those on the rug?" She pointed at his shoes and he quickly sauntered away and halted on the tiled floor, watching her swat the spot where his feet were. Gah.
"That dress for the ball is very pretty."
She ignored him.
"Julia?Julie?"
She glared at her sheets. "My name's not Julie."
"Who's that?"
Intrigued, she followed the direction of his hand, her eyes halting on a photo-frame on her nightstand. She stood there, with her cheeks warm, examining her twin brother's floppy golden hair, his similar blue eyes to hers.
"That's—" She cleared my throat. "Robert. My brother."
"He looks almost like you. He doesn't live here?" Neal's question floated around and she wondered what to say.
"We were twins. He died in an accident." She faced her bed, smoothing the hem of the sheet.
"I'm sorry I..."
Her eyes shot up. "It's okay. You didn't know." His unnerving gaze made her shift on her feet. With a tempting frown, she added, "I am assuming you want to talk about something."
With his hands in the pockets of his navy trousers, he sauntered towards her, his pointy intimidating shoes taking quick steps, ceasing only when he was facing her, kept away at the edge of the shag rug.
"Why did you ditch me?" He sprinkled salt in her newly cut wound.
"I..."
"Cause it's Noah's birthday?" His tone suggested accusation.
"Yes."
"I called you."
"My phone was dead."
"You could at least tell me beforehand."
"I forgot," She answered in an equally sardonic tone. He just smiled before looking down, his nose almost touching her hairline. Julia closed her eyes and swallowed, unable to move away. "Why are you here, Neal?"
"Julia, I'm trying. Isn't it obvious?" His jaw tightened at the sight of her while gray eyes implored her for something. But then it struck.
"Wait. Did you think you were changing my mind?"
"No." He shook his head, struggling to keep his equilibrium, that one syllable speaking of volume. "I didn't leave London because you were changing my mind."
"When did I give such impression? I've always looked at you as a friend."
"Did you really?" He offered her a derisive smile.
"Whatever I did was done with the purpose of being friendly. I'm sorry if I hurt you anyhow, Neal."
"Look," his voice dropped, "I tried to be your friend and I failed. It's obvious that I want you. And coming up here in your room at this hour isn't reasonable at all. So I'm telling you to think about this. I don't want to force myself on you and I can't help it either."
Well, fuck me with a chainsaw up my ass.
With a bitter smile, he shook his head, his gaze darting back down to her lips, his eyes speaking of repulse. And Julia glared, not moving from where she was standing with her lips only inches away. The proximity strangely reminded her of the kiss they had shared in the Clarke penthouse. Was it too bad?
Anxiety or awkwardness or whatever the hell was inside, had to go away this instant. So, she responded with the maximum punch, "I just don't want to be another girl Neal Williams fucked."
At her sudden outburst, he looked stunned, as if he wasn't expecting this. His expression changed right afterward. It seemed to her that he was really enjoying this. Tempted to throw him out, she opened her mouth to speak. Nevertheless, he was talking.
"If I wanted that, I would've seduced you into that a long time ago." What a fucking tosser. "I didn't cause I'm mature enough to know what I really want from you."
Either this vexation had to come to a halt or she had to kill herself to refrain from this hell. "You need to get rid of this creepy obsession." Her shoulders squirmed at her own poor choice of words. But what the fuck.
"Christ, Julianne." He faced away, definitely hurt from her deliberate words. "Why do you have to be so mean about this?"
Nothing she hadn't heard before, Neal. "Why do you want me if I am so mean?"
He faced her now, close enough to hold her down on the bed. Her hands instinctively tightened her robe. Neal noticed her action and smiled, not exactly with mockery but in amusement. He had the most interesting answer. "Maybe that's what I like about you."
Her repressed giggle came out almost immediately. He gave her a grin of triumph as if he just accomplished something. Was it that easy, Neal? Just to make her laugh?
"And the fact that you laugh like a three-year-old."
This was getting terribly out of hand. Thus, she protested, as grave as she could be, "Neal, that's irrelevant. We... we can't happen."
He sighed, not surprised. Then, he reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, a dangerous tactic. His thumb moved to her philtrum and he held up some excess cocaine for her to see. But he didn't make any comment about that. Instead, he stood, his breath hitting her face.
"Goodnight, Julia." His voice was achingly calm and suddenly she wished he was yelling at her. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."
With that, he walked away, his retreating back making her anxious as fuck before disappearing behind the balcony door. A gasp that had caught in her throat let out, easily at his absence.
Yeah, fuck me with a chainsaw.