Virtuous (Quantum Series Book 1) Read online

  She takes a deep breath and continues. “When I graduated from UCLA and couldn’t find a job to save my life, she suggested Flynn hire me to run his. I’ve been with him five years now, and it’s the coolest job ever. I never know what’s going to happen on a given day. Like when he called me to tell me he’s bringing a date to the Globes who needed a stylist to get her decked out. So I put the word out that Flynn is bringing a date who needs a stylist, and I’ve had every stylist in Hollywood—and every designer in the universe—kissing my ass all week. See what I mean? I love my job!”

  She’s so adorable and delightful that I can’t help but laugh at her enthusiasm. She’s several years older than I am, but I feel like the adult here for whatever reason. There’s a lightness about her that’s infectious. I find myself lightening up and getting excited about the stylists.

  “Sooooo, you want to see some dresses?”

  “Now?”

  “Right now.”

  “Yes!”

  “Right this way.”

  I follow her to Flynn’s living room, which has been converted into a dress boutique while I was sleeping. I bring my hands to my mouth to muffle the gasp of delight at the sight of gowns in every color imaginable hanging on racks that have been artfully arranged throughout the room.

  I’m so overwhelmed, I have no idea where to begin.

  “Don’t stress out. Tenley is on her way. She’s the best stylist in Hollywood, and Flynn told me to get only the best for you.”

  Hearing that makes me smile, even though I’m slightly annoyed that he left me alone with people I don’t know on our first morning in LA. I try not to let it ruin my delight in the dresses, but it nags at me anyway.

  The doorbell rings, and Addie goes to answer it while I tie the robe tighter around my waist. If I’d known this was happening first thing, I would’ve gotten up earlier and gotten dressed.

  Addie returns with a tall woman with long dark hair and sharp dark eyes that immediately zero in on me. She’s wearing super-skinny jeans with sky-high heels and a blue blazer over a formfitting tank. She carries a huge leather purse that might be Louis Vuitton. I’m immediately intimidated.

  “Oh, he wasn’t kidding. You’re stunning.” Tenley approaches me with an almost deranged look in her eyes that has me taking a step back.

  “Don’t be scared,” Addie says, laughing. “She doesn’t actually bite.”

  “You’re flawless. I hope you’re prepared to be the next It Girl, because the minute the paps get a look at you, they’re going to be ravenous.”

  “Don’t scare her off, Tenley,” Addie admonishes. “Flynn wants her to enjoy this.”

  “Oh, we are going to enjoy this. We’re going to enjoy it so much.”

  Despite my initial impression of her, Tenley is savvy and astute. She studies each gown with a critical eye and narrows the choices down to two that she feels best suit me. One is an incredible plum color that clings to my body, leaving nothing to the imagination. It’s sexy and demure at the same time. I love it.

  Addie gives me a thumbs-up when I emerge from the bedroom in the plum gown. “That is awesome.”

  “I agree,” Tenley says, tugging at the bodice and checking the fit through my hips. “But I want to see the black one, too.” She grabs the one she wants. “You’re going to need help getting into this one.”

  I didn’t have sleepovers. I didn’t get a chance to play team sports. I spent one full year in high school. Other than the one time I wish I could forget but never will, I don’t have any experience with showing my body to strangers, and I hesitate now.

  Tenley immediately senses my hesitation and softens. “This is my job, honey. I’ll be discreet. I promise.”

  Because Flynn has a right to his privacy, I take her into one of the guest rooms rather than his room. She makes quick work of getting me into the dress. This one shows a lot more of my breasts and my left leg, thanks to a split that extends nearly to my waist.

  I tug on the bodice that refuses to budge any higher. “I don’t know about this.”

  “Come out and see it in the mirrors. You might feel differently.”

  I doubt I will, but I follow her anyway.

  Addie gasps. “Oh, wow, Natalie… The other one is pretty, but that one’s a knockout. That’s the one.”

  I stand before the double mirrors that came with the dresses, and immediately see what they see. This one is special. I barely look like me in it. I look like someone brave and fearless, someone who is perhaps on the verge of a whole new life she never could’ve imagined for herself.

  “Will you be comfortable in it, Natalie?” Tenley asks. “If not, the plum is perfect on you, too.”

  “The plum is the safe choice.” I can’t stop looking at myself in the mirror. I can’t believe that’s me. I look like the women in the magazines after the award shows. “This one’s a bit riskier.”

  “It is,” Tenley agrees, “but it’s still classy and sexy.”

  “Who is it?” Addie asks.

  “Gucci Couture.”

  “Gucci,” I whisper. “For real?”

  “As real as it gets and one of a kind. And apparently made just for you.”

  “What happens at midnight?” I ask them.

  In the mirror, I see them exchange perplexed glances.

  “Do you mean tomorrow night?” Addie asks.

  “I’m thinking about Cinderella and what happened when the clock struck midnight.”

  “In Hollywood,” Tenley says, “that’s when things are just getting interesting.” She unzips the dress. “You’re going to blow them away.”

  “You’re going to blow him away,” Addie adds.

  I like the idea of that. “Okay, ladies. Gucci it is.”

  “Fantastic,” Tenley says, her satisfaction apparent. “Now, about the shoes.”

  Chapter 16

  Tenley and Addie are long gone by the time Flynn finally returns. He’s sweating profusely and breathing hard when he comes into the house. Sweaty has never looked so sexy to me.

  “Oh, hey, you’re up.” He goes straight to the fridge for a bottle of water that he downs in three big gulps.

  “I’m up, and I’ve been styled, too.”

  “Tenley was already here?”

  “Yep. All done.”

  “What’d you pick?”

  “I’ll let you see for yourself tomorrow. They took it to do a few alterations, and she’ll meet us in town tomorrow for finishing touches.”

  “You’re happy with it?”

  The question makes me laugh. “Yes, Flynn, I’m happy with the Gucci Couture dress I get to wear to the Golden Globes tomorrow night. And I’m thrilled with the Valentino sandals I’ll be wearing with the one-of-a-kind dress.”

  “Good. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

  He says the words the way he always does, but something is different.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “You seem… I don’t know… distracted or something.”

  “Sorry about that. I had a couple of work things crop up early, and they’re on my mind. I’ll shake it off in the shower and then make you some breakfast. Sound good?”

  “Or I could make you some breakfast while you’re in the shower.”

  “Only if I get to do the dishes.”

  “Deal.”

  “I’ll be quick.”

  I want to know what happened, what has him so distracted, but I figure he’ll share it with me if he wants to. I don’t want to be, but I’m disappointed that something has changed since our wonderful afternoon and evening together yesterday.

  As I withdraw a carton of eggs from the fridge and begin making an omelet with cheese, tomatoes and peppers that I slice into thin strips, I wonder if I did something wrong. But what could I have done in my sleep?

  Oh God… Did I say something? Did I talk about the attack? I falter mid-slice, and a searing pain in my finger requires my full attention. Blood pours from the cut on
my index fingertip. I run it under cold water, but the blood keeps coming. I can barely bother to focus on the cut with the possibility looming over me that I said something I didn’t mean to in my sleep.

  Flynn returns to the kitchen, where I’m applying pressure to the cut with a paper towel wrapped around my finger. “What happened?” He’s wearing gym shorts and a gray T-shirt.

  “Knife met finger. I wasn’t paying attention.” I can’t even look at him as the fear pulses through me like a heartbeat, leaving me panicked and light-headed. As much as I don’t want to know, I have to ask. “Did I do something or say something in my sleep?”

  He looks up from examining the cut. His expression is nothing short of stricken. “What?”

  “Something happened. You’re different. I want to know if it was me. Did I say something or—”

  “No, God no, Natalie.”

  “Then what’s wrong? You came in from your run, and everything feels different. Have you changed your mind about wanting me here? Because if you have—”

  “No.” He puts his arms around me and holds me. I’m immediately enveloped in the fresh clean scent he brought with him from the shower. “I haven’t changed my mind. I had a dream that upset me. I was up most of the night. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I expected you’d sleep in, so I went for a run. I saw Addie coming in as I was leaving, so I knew she’d be here when Tenley came.”

  “Do you… Do you want to talk about your dream?”

  “I… No, not really.”

  “You know how you tell me I can trust you?” He nods. “You can trust me, too. I hope you know that.”

  “I do, sweetheart. I trust you. If I didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here.”

  “You trust me with your home, and I’m honored by that. But that’s just real estate. If you don’t trust me with what’s in here,” I say as I rest my hand over his heart, “the rest doesn’t mean very much.”

  He stares at me in that intense, all-consuming way of his. “You know how there’re some things you said you won’t talk about—ever?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a few things that fall into that category, too.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Maybe someday we can have a ‘share our secrets’ conversation.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Until then, I’m kind of starving.”

  “Me, too.”

  He tends to my cut finger with antibacterial ointment and a bandage before we enjoy the omelets and toast as well as the fresh fruit he tells me he eats every day at breakfast. We discover we like our coffee exactly the same way—with cream and a quarter teaspoon of sugar. Real sugar. None of the fake stuff for us. After breakfast, I get dressed in shorts and a tank top.

  Flynn hands me a tube of sunscreen. “You’re going to need this. And this.” He puts a ball cap on my head.

  “How come?”

  “We’re taking a convertible and going sightseeing.”

  Yet another car awaits us in front of the house. This one, he tells me, is a Porsche Boxster. It’s a beautiful bright red.

  “Is it new?”

  “Nope. It’s a ’96. First-generation Boxster. A bit of a collector’s item.”

  “So this car thing goes back a while, huh?”

  He opens the passenger door for me. “Um, yeah.”

  “Your sisters might be right about that twelve-step program.”

  “Again I remind you there are worse addictions I could have. There’s heroin and cocaine and meth and booze and pills and women and—”

  “All right. I get it.”

  He starts the car and hits the gas, launching us into motion. “I don’t like to think of it as an addiction so much as a collection.”

  “And how many cars make up this collection?”

  “You want like a number?”

  “Yes,” I say, laughing at his obvious discomfort, “a number would be good.”

  “I don’t know. Like sixty, maybe?”

  “You own sixty cars?”

  “It’s a collection. Often, when you collect things, you have a lot of them.”

  “You have sixty cars.”

  “That’s an estimate.”

  “So it could be more?”

  “Or less.”

  I start to laugh, and I can’t stop. He’s so cute and funny and embarrassed.

  “I give a lot of money to charities of all kinds, especially the starving-children kind, so don’t tell me there’re a lot of starving kids out there who could benefit from the money I spend on cars. I take care of them first.”

  I wipe laughter tears from my eyes. “It seems you may have mounted that ready defense in the past.”

  “All the time with my sisters, who think my collection is ‘obscene.’ They also like to remind me that he who dies with the most toys is still dead.”

  “I think I’m going to like them.”

  “They do help to keep things real for their little brother,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t get away with much around them. And, seriously, starving kids are a thing for me.”

  “I already knew that about you.”

  “That’s one thing they write about me that you can actually believe. I hate that there are kids going hungry in this land of plenty. It astounds me that a country with our resources can still have hunger problems. So I do what I can to shed some light on that issue.”

  “I have kids who come to school hungry in the morning. I keep breakfast bars and juice boxes in my desk drawer. They all know they’re welcome to them and they don’t have to ask first. It breaks my heart every time one of them visits that drawer. Even at that young age, they’re embarrassed.”

  He grips the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles turn white. “God, I hate that. It makes me fucking furious that hunger exists as a problem in this country.”

  “Me, too.”

  “If celebrity is good for anything, it’s for stuff like this. I never miss a chance to raise money or draw attention to the fact that while we’re sitting fat, dumb and happy in our big rich lives, kids are starving from coast to coast.” He glances over at me. “I’m actually starting a foundation to put my money where my mouth is on this issue.”

  I’m immediately intrigued. “Really?”

  Nodding, he says, “It bugs the shit out of me that so much of what I donate to other organizations goes to overhead. I hate going to fancy, costly benefits to raise money for hunger issues. Screw that. Hungry people don’t need the glitterati having another black-tie event on their behalf. They need food. Right now. I want to work on ways to make that happen more efficiently. Develop networks across the country, tap into my own network for funding. That kind of thing.”

  “I love that idea.”

  “It’s starting to look like it might happen. I’ve had a couple of recent meetings with people in LA and New York about what it would take to get it started. We’re planning to begin in the biggest population centers and work our way out from there. We’ve got another meeting coming up soon.”

  “So many people would benefit from that kind of project.”

  “That’s the goal. So am I forgiven for my car collection?”

  “You didn’t just make up the foundation idea hoping I’d forget about the cars, did you?”

  His guffaw makes me smile. “Not hardly. I can provide witnesses that the foundation was in the works long before today.”

  “It’s really admirable, Flynn. All kidding aside, I absolutely love the idea.”

  “I’m glad you do. I feel good about it.”

  “You should. When I first moved to New York, I gave money to every homeless person I encountered on the street until Leah told me I had to stop or go broke myself. It kills me every time I have to walk by someone who’s living on the street, especially in the winter.”

  “I used to do the same thing when I was able to walk around in the cities.”

  I smile at him as we discover another trait we have in common. “So wher
e are you taking me?”

  “I figured since you’ve never been to LA before, we’d do a little windshield tour starting with Beverly Hills and Rodeo Drive. Then we’ll hit the coast and check out Santa Monica and Malibu. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great. Those are places I’ve heard about all my life but have never seen.”

  “The only thing is,” he says tentatively, “we can’t really get out of the car. I don’t go out in public very often anymore without security. That’s why we snuck into ‘Wicked’ after the lights went down and left before they came back up. After what happened in London last year—”

  “What happened?”

  He sighs deeply. “I was working a rope line at the UK premier of Camouflage when a guy pulled a knife on me. He managed to slice me in the ribs before security swooped in and took him down. It all happened so fast. Scared the shit out of me, though.”

  “How did I not hear about this?”

  “We kept it hush-hush. The guy is mentally ill, and I didn’t see any reason to make his life more of a living hell than it already is. Luckily, he just broke the skin, so they were able to bandage me up, get me a new shirt and send me on my way to the premier. But my hands shook all night.”

  “Jesus. You could’ve been killed.”

  “It really scared me, and I’m not easily scared. Ever since then, big crowds freak me out, and I don’t go very many places without security except for in a car. It’s the one time I get to be totally free, you know?”

  “And I’m teasing you about your car obsession. It all makes sense now.”

  “It’s okay to tease me. My obsession is totally over the top, and I know it.”

  We drive through Beverly Hills, where he shows me the stately home where he grew up. It’s two stories, white sandstone with black shutters and a black iron gate.

  “My folks have lunch plans today, or we’d stop by to see them. We’ll see them tonight.”