CHAPTER TEN
‘WHEREHAVEYOUBEEN?’
Ella clucked and shook her head, her hands on her hips, as Liane came into the hotel suite. She’d just left Alessandro down in the lobby, with a bittersweet smile and a promise to wear the dress—his dress—tonight. She’d had the most marvellous day, she thought, full of laughter and fun, of both companionable silences and enjoyable conversation, of strolling through Paris on the arm of the most beautiful man...yes, it had been wonderful, but it had filled her with an impossible longing too. Alessandro was not part of the fairy tale. She had to keep reminding herself of that again and again, because the more time she spent with him, the more it felt as if it could be possible—if only in her own head. Her own heart.
‘I told you I was going sightseeing with Alessandro,’ Liane replied as mildly as she could.
‘I didn’t think you’d be gone for so long—’
‘It’s only four in the afternoon. The party’s not till seven.’ Liane gazed at her sister in concern. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, far from it. Something’s right.’ Ella looked as if she were bubbling inside. ‘Something’s really right. I had that online interview this afternoon—’
‘Oh, yes, how was it?’ Liane exclaimed, a pang of guilt assailing her at the realisation that she hadn’t even remembered that was happening; she’d been too wrapped up in her day with Alessandro.
‘Oh, it was fine.’ Ella waved a hand in airy dismissal. ‘It’s so easy online, you just open your laptop. They wanted to know how I met Alessandro, whether I really was “his Princess”, as the tabloids are saying.’ She grinned and rolled her eyes as jealousy made Liane’s stomach clench. She knew it was all smoke and mirrors, pretence and presumption, but it still rankled. She hadn’t let herself look at any of the online speculation, hadn’t wanted to see the photos of Ella on Alessandro’s arm, knowing how the media would play it, the Prince and the Princess. The fairy tale and the happily-ever-after.
‘And what did you say?’
‘Oh, I let them wonder, of course,’ Ella replied with one of her rich, throaty laughs. ‘Can’t give the game away! I said I thought there was definitely someone he was interested in, but whether it was me...’ she took on a look of wide-eyed innocence as she gave Liane a slow blink ‘...that I really couldn’t say.’
‘And they bought that?’ Liane returned with a laugh that came out just a bit too forced. ‘When you’ve been in all the magazines, draped on his arm?’
‘How many magazines do you think I’ve been in?’ Ella exclaimed. ‘It’s the hotel that’s being featured, Liane, not me. I might be in a shot or two, but that’s all. I’m hardly a celebrity.’
Liane stared at her in surprise. ‘But the whole reason Alessandro asked you to go along was to give the hotels some publicity—’
‘Yes, the hotels. And I have, through my social media. But no one even knows it’s my account.’
‘What?’ Liane blinked at her in confusion. ‘Why? I mean...you want to be an influencer, Ella! Why would you make it anonymous?’ She realised she’d been imagining Ella in every shot, arm snugly woven through Alessandro’s, her head on his shoulder as they danced the night away...
Had it not been like that? Had her own tortured imaginings been worse, and far more painful, than the reality?
‘Did you not hear me talking to Alessandro about it on the plane?’ Ella’s eyes danced as, mutely, Liane shook her head. No, she’d tuned out their conversation because she hated how unsettled and, yes, jealous it made her feel. She knew their so-called relationship was fake, and she felt relatively certain that Alessandro wasn’t interested in Ella, but it still made her feel small and mousy and forgettable to see them together, circulating among the crowds, dazzling everyone. She didn’t want to think about it more than she had to.
‘Well, the point isn’t to make me famous,’ Ella explained with a smile and a toss of her head. ‘It’s to make the hotel famous. Keep people intrigued as well as guessing—’
‘Guessing what?’
‘Who Alessandro is in love with, of course!’
Liane tried not to flinch.
He isn’t in love with anyone, she wanted to tell her sister. He refuses to be, because he thinks love is somehow damaging, or maybe even dangerous, and he’s never, ever going to risk it.
‘And how are you doing that?’ she asked, and with a canary-eating grin Ella handed her her phone.
Silently Liane swiped through the images—the artful shots of crystal and candlelight, the glimpse of Ella in the mirror, so it could—almost—be any woman. The Prince of Manhattan’s Mystery Princess.
‘They’re wonderfully done,’ she told her as she handed back the phone, ‘but everyone must know it’s you. You’re the Instagrammer, after all, and you posted the first shot with that glass shoe—’
‘Oh, I keep them guessing,’ Ella replied with a smile that bordered on smug. ‘Trust me on that.’ She slid her phone into her pocket. ‘But now onto more practical matters! I can’t go to the party tonight, so you have to go in my place.’
Liane’s jaw dropped as terror and delight twined tightly together, flared low in her belly. ‘What? I can’t possibly—’
‘Oh, but you can, and you have to. After my interview this morning some French YouTubers got in touch with me. They follow fashion and they want me to feature in some of their videos, wearing some of Alonso’s designs. They’ve only got this evening free, though, so I have to go.’
‘But Ella,’ Liane protested as a growing feeling of alarm took hold of her, ‘you have a contract with Alessandro.’
‘Did I sign anything?’ Ella challenged blithely. ‘No. And to be honest I think I’m doing him a favour. I’ve been at every party so far. It’s becoming boring. People expect me to be there—the presenter on the TV show who interviewed me thought I was his PA.’ She rolled her eyes, pretending to look affronted. ‘Far better to focus on you, this new, mysterious woman.’
‘Me?’ Liane squeaked. She could hardly believe it. She could never be like Ella, basking in the limelight. Everyone would laugh at her, they would think she was being ridiculous... ‘No. I can’t.’
Ella’s baby blue eyes sparkled with challenge. ‘Why not?’
‘Because...because I’m not the sort of person who steps into the spotlight. Who enjoys it.’
‘Then maybe I have to give you a push.’
‘No.’ Liane shook her head, her hands pressed to her hot cheeks. She hated the thought of being not just Alessandro’s object of pity but the whole world’s and worse, of scorn. ‘No, no, I couldn’t, Ella, really.’
Ella stared at her for a moment while Liane kept shaking her head. ‘Don’t you want to?’ she asked finally. ‘At least a little? Aren’t you tired of standing on the sidelines—not just of a party, but of life?’
‘Ella.’Liane couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.
‘I’m serious, Liane. You live so quietly, never attracting attention, never putting yourself forward for anything or, more importantly, for anyone. When’s the last time you even had a date?’
‘I’m not like you,’ Liane protested. ‘I never want to be the centre of attention.’
‘I’m not saying you have to be the centre,’ Ella replied with a laugh, ‘the way you know I love to! But you deserve more than the shadows. I know you think your mother makes my life miserable, and she definitely tries, but she does for you as well. You don’t even see it, the way she asks you to fetch and carry for her, how she’s always criticising, acting as if you’re never quite good enough. In some ways she’s harder on you than on me. At least I know she doesn’t like me. She’s meant to love you.’