Authors: Kate Perry
“Great.” Titania grunted, deliberately holding her camera up to cover her face.
Gigi pushed it away. “Be nice to her. She’s more an outsider than you are.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. “Remind me again why you’re my favorite.”
Laughing, Gigi squeezed her shoulders. “Because I’m irresistible.”
Summer approached them cautiously, as though Titania could pounce at any moment.
Rolling her eyes, she set her camera on her lap. “I’m not that bad.”
“Yes you are,” Gigi said cheerfully.
Their half-sister cleared her throat. “I don’t want to interrupt you two, but I wanted to tell Titania I look forward to getting to know her.”
She stared at the other woman. It was amazing how much like a Summerhill she looked, especially given she hadn’t grown up with them. Titania wondered what Reginald had thought of that. Gigi had told her he’d actually loved Summer and her mother. It baffled her. Reginald Summerhill hadn’t loved anyone but himself.
Gigi elbowed her—hard.
“Ouch.” She glared at her sister. “What?”
Rolling her eyes, Gigi turned to Summer. “Once you get to know Titania, you’ll get used to her lack of verbal skills.”
“I have skills,” she protested.
“Limited to photography,” Gigi acquiesced.
She shrugged. Her reputation as the Barbara Walters of photography wasn’t achieved lightly.
“Everyone,” Jacqueline called.
Titania stiffened, not even relaxing when Gigi’s arm stole around her waist for comfort.
“Rosalind asked for the ladies to meet her upstairs.” Jacqueline faced the men. “You can continue your odd bonding rituals down here.”
“Come on.” Gigi pulled Titania to her feet.
But she shook her head. “I’ll just stay down here with the men. I doubt Rosalind needs me up there.”
“She may not need it, but she wants it.” Her sister dragged her toward the door.
“How do you know?”
“I have a feeling,” Gigi said with a mysterious smile. “Come on, Tawny. Just play along.”
Sighing, she followed.
They went up to their mother’s room.
Of course, she thought. She lifted her camera and took unfocused pictures as she entered, of any random thing, just to have something to do.
It was silly that something as simple as walking into her mother’s room could make her feel the old longing to have the love and approval of her parents. The youngest was supposed to be a favorite, but she’d always felt forgotten.
She used to sneak in the room and hide under the bed and take candid pictures of their mother. Her mother had always stunned her. When Titania was a kid, she thought for sure that Jacqueline Summerhill was an actual fairy princess come to life.
The room wasn’t any different than it had been twenty years before, except perhaps shabbier. The wallpaper had aged and there were obvious scratches in the wood floor, but it was still magical. It even smelled the same.
Titania inhaled, overcome by a peculiar feeling in her chest, as though she missed something she hadn’t realized. Swallowing the emotions she didn’t want, she went to a corner and stood out of the way, taking pictures.
Slowly, the act of snapping photos brought her back to calm. She eased into it, changing her view and taking pictures of the sisters, Chloe, Fran, and even Jacqueline.
The closet door opened and Titania automatically shifted her viewfinder toward it. She snapped a photo of Portia walking out, followed by Rosalind, who wore the most beautiful wedding dress she’d ever seen.
Titania lowered the camera, stunned by her older sister’s beauty, which was defined by the joy on her face rather than her Summerhill features. Rosalind looked like a fairy princess, the kind Gigi used to tell her stories about.
Like their mother had looked like.
“Nick and I set a date,” Rosalind announced with an elated smile. “Next Valentine’s day. I haven’t finished my dress yet, but I couldn’t wait to show you.”
There was a chorus of exclamations. Titania raised her camera and quickly shot pictures of all the sisters. She captured Fran, doing a happy jig.
She turned.
In the frame, Jacqueline stood, as regal as always, tears in her eyes as she stared at Titania.
Titania took the picture reflexively, but then faltered and lowered her camera. What did that look mean? She wanted to study the photo, but she turned the camera off so she wouldn’t give in to the temptation now, in front of everyone. Later, in private, she’d dissect it.
“Titania.”
She looked up, suddenly aware everyone was looking at her. She cursed internally as she felt her face heat.
Rosalind walked toward her, her hand outstretched. “I was thinking maybe you could take pictures of the entire process, until the end.”
That’d require being around the family for the foreseeable future. She glanced at Gigi.
Who smirked back, obviously knowing what she was thinking.
Rosalind added, “I thought for the actual wedding day you could help me find someone good, because of course you’ll be in the wedding.”
Impossible. She shook her head. She had assignments lined up. After the Pope, she was headed to the States to photograph a senator and his family for
TIME Magazine
. She’d been looking forward to it more than usual because it gave her a reason to get away from Cole, too—to give that one mistake of a night a chance to fade into memory.
“Of course, she’ll do it,” Gigi agreed for her. “She was talking about how she was going to spend more time in London, especially now that I’m back.”
“No I wasn’t.” She glared at the traitor. “And you’re leaving next week.”
“Just for a couple weeks. I’ve decided to relocate from Hollywood to London.” Gigi flashed the smile of a woman in love.
Rosalind squeezed her hand. “I don’t expect you to be around the entire time, but I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to have your perspective on everything. Your photos are so lovely, Titania. Say you will.”
Titania looked into Rosalind’s face. Despite the color of her eyes, she looked so much like Jacqueline.
That old feeling rose in her chest—the one where she wanted her mother to notice her, to tell her how clever and talented she was. It nearly choked her, it was so strong. She glanced at Jacqueline and heard herself say, “I think about it.”
The disappointment in Jacqueline’s eyes hurt. Titania lifted her camera and took a few more pictures, knowing she had her decision: nothing was going to make her stick around. Rosalind would find a different photographer. Gigi would forgive her eventually—she always did. And Jacqueline …
The Countess of Amberlin had made it clear years ago that she had more important things to do than concern herself with her youngest daughter. Jacqueline Summerhill wouldn’t even notice Titania was gone.
She never had before.
***
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Hello lovely!
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***
Over 3.5 million readers have already fallen for Kate’s best-selling Laurel Heights series. Check out all of Kate’s books here.
Fall in love with the book that started it all…
From
Perfect for You
(Laurel Heights, Book 1)…
Graphic designer looking for hot sex.
Freya Godwin shook her head and crossed out the sentence. Too blatant. That may be what she was looking for, but perhaps she should be a touch more subtle. She didn’t want every freak in San Francisco to respond to her ad.
Doodling faceless lovers entwined in different passionate embraces, she thought about what she really wanted. Finally she scribbled:
Female web designer seeking inspiration in order to complete a very important project. Bring your muse to share.
Lame. Accurate, sure, but it sounded desperate.
Who was she kidding? She was totally desperate.
Her office door slammed open. Flinching, she looked up to find Charles scowling in the threshold.
Hell.
She quickly flipped the notebook shut. If he knew she was spending her valuable time working on a personal ad instead of the Sin City redesign, he’d blow a gasket.
“What the hell is
this
?” He waved sheets of paper in the air.
Maybe he’d blow a gasket anyway. “I can’t see the pages with you flapping them around like that.”
He strode into her office and slammed them on her desk. “Here.”
Freya glanced down and mentally winced. The design was even more white-bread than she remembered. She didn’t need Charles to tell her that Sin City wasn’t shelling out the big bucks for white bread—they were paying for buttery French pastry.
“Well? What the hell is this crap?”
It was the last throes of a web designer who hadn’t felt an iota of creativity in over a year. But she just shrugged. “They’re some initial ideas I had. They’re not the final mock-ups to show the client.”
“Damn right, they aren’t. If they saw this”—he stabbed a blunt finger at the printouts—”they’d run out of the building in horror.
This is crap
.”
“Tell me what you really think, Charles.”
Ignoring her, he braced his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Do you understand what a coup it was for them to choose Evolve to redesign their website and revamp their branding?”
Yeah, she did. Evolve was well-regarded in San Francisco’s competitive web design field, but to call Sin City hiring Evolve a coup was understating matters. It was unheard of for a huge corporate entity like Sin City to go outside the biggie web design firms to a boutique shop like Evolve.
And Sin City was huge. They were Amazon and Facebook combined but for all things sexual. Store, blogs, chats, reviews, live video feeds—you name it. They even had their own publishing branch that put out several magazines in addition to a line of erotica for women. Compared to Sin City, the Playboy empire looked like a business run out of someone’s garage.
“They didn’t just choose Evolve, Freya.” Charles’s blue eyes burned with the zeal he was renowned for among his colleagues. His employees called it The Mania. “They chose
you
.”
Because of the site she’d designed for a local sex-toy shop two years ago. Back before her creative juices had dried up. “I understand, Charles.”
“I’m not sure you do. If you screw this up, you’re out of here.”
Her mouth fell open. It took a couple tries before she could get any words out. “You can’t fire me for one bombed design.”
“I’m the boss. I can do whatever the hell I want. Especially if one of my employees blows the biggest opportunity this company has ever had.” His eyes sparked with dollar signs. “This is our opportunity to play with the big boys. Maybe even go public. I won’t let anyone screw it up.”
“But—”
“And your work over the past year hasn’t been up to your usual standards. I know Marcus bailed you out of the Accordiana job,” he said bluntly.
She cut off her protest. She couldn’t deny it—Marcus hadn’t just helped her out with the design, he’d taken the crap she’d come up with and turned it into gold.
“If you can’t perform, I can’t afford to keep you. Just because you’re Evangeline’s best friend doesn’t mean I’m going to make allowances for you.”
“I can’t lose my job.” Her stomach lurched at the thought.
“Then I suggest you produce a design they’ll fall in love with.” He snapped his suit coat straight and turned to leave. At the door he looked over his shoulder. “I mean it, Freya. Fuck this up and you’re out of here.”
She winced as the door slammed shut. She couldn’t afford to lose her job. It wasn’t that she cared about herself—if she lost her paycheck she’d figure something out. But she wouldn’t be able to support her sister Anna through college, and that wasn’t acceptable. She’d vowed after the fallout from her parents’ accident that Anna would never have to compromise her dreams like she’d had to.
That meant she had to produce a kick-ass design.
In the pit of her stomach she felt a spasm of worry. She’d been off her game—she’d never felt such an utter lack of creativity.
She grabbed the notebook and opened it to her ad. She crossed it out and wrote
Artist in trouble. HELP.
The office door reopened, and her best friend Evangeline poked her shiny blonde head in. “You still alive in here?”
Freya slapped the notebook shut. “For the time being. Did you hear your dad?”
“Me and everyone else in the office.” Eve closed the door and perched on the desk’s corner. “I was just happy it was you and not me for a change.”
“Why do you let him treat you like that?” She shook her head. Charles loved Eve, but it was tough love. “He may be your boss but he’s your father, too. If you stand up to him, he’ll respect you more.”
“I don’t want him to respect me. I want him to leave me alone.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “Besides, you’re the fiery one. You stand up to him enough for everyone. Except for today.”
“I’m not fiery, and today was just strategic.” Everyone assumed that just because she had cinnamon red hair she had a temper to match. Not true. Not that much, anyway.