Benjamin let us out in front of a boutique on Fifth Avenue. A woman in head-to-toe black buzzed us into the intimidating, ultramodern interior — stark charcoal-gray walls and spare furnishings. We were the only customers. “Nice to see you again, Nico.” She extended a slender hand. “And Ms. Moore, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” If she registered the comparative drabness of the clothes I was wearing, she didn’t let it show. “I’m Michaela. Come, make yourself at home. Would you like a glass of Prosecco?” She looked at me a bit more closely. “Or maybe some sparkling water?”
When she had disappeared, I turned to Nico, who had settled onto a long white sofa. “What’s this about?”
“You need something to wear tonight, right?” During the long ride into the city, he had refused to tell me where we were going, and I had been too happy to care. “This is the flagship store of one of the best designers in the business. Just follow my lead.”
When Michaela returned, I accepted the glass of water and occupied myself by looking at the racks of clothing, while Nico explained our errand to her. “Miss Moore needs a complete new wardrobe.” I swallowed hard, not at all sure how I felt about this particular surprise.
Behind curtains, I submitted to the tape measure, and Michaela’s appraising eye. She brought me racks of clothes to try on — every type of garment from silken underthings to summer sheaths in a rainbow of colors to high-heeled pumps in leather soft as butter. With each combination of items I tried on, she asked me if I wanted to walk out into the atrium to ask Nico his opinion, and I balked and told her no. When I had tried everything on, I excused myself, got back into the oxford blouse, narrow skirt, and flats I’d worn into the store, and told her I needed to speak to Nico.
I found him where I’d left him, on the couch in the atrium, where he was growling something into his cell phone. When I entered the room, he snapped the phone shut and stood to meet me. “You’re done already?” he asked. “Didn’t you like anything here?”
“What’s this all about?” I asked him. “I appreciate your generosity, I do, but this is just too much.”
“Too much? You need clothes, don’t you?”
“I have clothes,” I told him.
“Yes, of course, but you’re my girlfriend now. I want to show you off to the whole world, tonight and always. Once we go public, your picture will wind up in newspapers, in magazines, on TV. It will be a whole new life. After this, I thought I’d take you to a little spa I know on Madison Avenue, get you a manicure, a haircut, a facial, whatever you like.”
“You’re ashamed of me?” I asked. “You want to make me over into some other kind of woman? What’s next? Breast implants?”
“No, no, no.” He looked for a moment as though he might start fuming and shouting. Then he thought better of it and changed his tack, caressing my cheek with the back of his hand until I could feel my resolve starting to melt. “You’re everything I could ever want, Jane. No matter what you think of yourself, you’re beautiful, and I want the world to see that. I want to dress you up in silk and lace — maybe some emerald earrings to match those eyes of yours — so you can shine like the jewel you are.”
“That’s not me, Nico. I’d feel like I was wearing a Halloween costume.”
He harrumphed. “What planet are you from, anyway? How did I find the one woman in the world who isn’t thrilled by the chance to spend my money?”
I looped my arm through his. “Nico?”
“Don’t look at me like that. It isn’t fair.”
“Remember when you told me about Maddy’s mother? How she was using you? You called her a gold digger.”
“Because she was,” he said. “This is totally different. You’re totally different.”
“Yes,” I told him. “I’m different.”
“No kidding.”
Just then, Michaela rounded the corner, asking if she could refill our glasses and if she might show me anything else. My eyes met Nico’s. Then I turned to her.
“I don’t need an entire wardrobe,” I said, “but I’ll take a few things for special occasions.”
“More sparkling water,” Nico told Michaela. When she’d departed with our glasses, he turned back to me. “At least pick something sexy for tonight,” he insisted. “Something low cut. With a tight skirt. Maybe some stiletto heels?”
“Is it me you want, Nico?” I asked him. “Because that’s not how I dress. I don’t know how to walk in stilettos. I like people to talk to my face, not my breasts.” I refused the second glass of water and followed Michaela back into the dressing room, where I chose what I would need for that night and a few other outfits. She promised to have that night’s ensemble delivered to Thornfield Park by five.
“What did you get?” Nico asked
“You’ll see tonight,” I told him. “But don’t expect me to look like a sex goddess, or you’ll be profoundly disappointed.”
“She’ll look lovely and tasteful,” Michaela assured him. “Think Audrey Hepburn. You’ll be very pleased.”
Emboldened, Nico handed over his credit card and insisted that we go to a jewelry store a few blocks away.
“I’ll wear my pearl earrings tonight,” I told him. “They may not be avant-garde enough for your public, but they’re mine, and they suit me.”
“A haircut then? A pedicure? A belly button ring?” He seemed to be kidding about that last one. I patted his hand.
“Can we please just go home? I’d like to sit on the back deck and eat a sandwich and read a book and think about anything other than clothes for a couple of hours.”
“You win,” Nico said, then remained silent until we were gliding uptown in the back of his Range Rover. “You know, though” — he took my hand — “you need to get used to being pampered. I plan to take you everywhere I go from now on. Paris, Milan, Barcelona, Stockholm, Edinburgh. Everywhere. Wherever I play, I want you to be. It’s a win-win situation. You’ll get to see the world. And I’ll get you — to keep me company everywhere I go.”
“You’ll be sick of me. And what will I do with myself while you’re working?”
“You can watch me play,” he said. “And you can sightsee wherever we are. You can sketch and paint, make your art all day long.”
“But how will I earn my keep?”
“Earn your keep? You’re a rock star’s girlfriend, angel. You don’t have to earn your keep.”
“Of course I have to work,” I told him. “I can’t just tag along with no purpose.”
“No purpose?” He checked to see if Benjamin was looking in the rearview mirror, then he kissed me softly on the lips. “Your purpose is to be my love slave.” He smiled mischievously and slid his hand up my skirt to caress my inner thigh.
I gasped and pulled away from him. “I’m not going to be any kind of slave.” I kept my voice level. “If that’s what you have in mind, I think you’d better find someone else to pamper.”
Nico was silent for a long time. “You can sell your paintings. I can hook you up with a gallery, get you a show,” he said finally.
“You know I’m not good enough for that yet,” I told him. “I don’t want some gallery to show my work just because I’m Nico Rathburn’s girlfriend. I need to go back to school. And don’t think about offering to pay my tuition. I’m saving up my salary, and I’ll put myself through school.”
“Salary?” he said. “Have you forgotten I pay your salary?”
“Not for a minute.”
“Are you trying to tell me you still plan to work for me? As my nanny?”
“As Maddy’s nanny,” I corrected him. “It’s not you I’ll be driving back and forth to preschool and pushing on the swings. And I don’t think you need me to keep you out of trouble.”
“You could give me baths and tuck me into bed at night,” Nico said playfully. “I’d like that.” His hand crept up my leg again. I removed it. “You mean you want to stay at Thornfield Park watching Maddy while I’m on tour, all by myself?”
“You’ll
hardly be by yourself,” I said. “You’ll have the band, and all your fans, and, I imagine, plenty of groupies.”
“You want to give me back to the groupies?” He sounded petulant.
“Maddy and I could come on tour with you.”
He looked surprised — apparently the idea hadn’t occurred to him. I kissed him on the cheek, and he put his arm around me and held me close. “I bet she’ll like traveling even more than I will,” I told him.
“We’ll be a family.” He sounded pleased with the idea. We rode on awhile in silence. When we were halfway across the Triborough Bridge, he turned to me and said, “Let’s make it official.”
At first I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“Let’s get married.” He grabbed both my hands, then hesitated. “Dammit, I’d get down on one knee if there were room. Will you marry me, Jane?”
For a moment I forgot to breathe.
“Don’t torture me,” Nico demanded.
“Torture you?” I asked. “How can I do that? If you really mean it, how could I say no?”
“If I really mean it?” Now he looked totally exasperated. “Jane, say yes quickly. Say ‘Yes, Nico; I will marry you.’”
“Yes, Nico,” I repeated. “I will marry you.” And I let him envelop me in his arms and kiss me again and again, not worrying about what Benjamin must be thinking as he watched us in the rearview mirror.
“I’ll buy you an engagement ring,” Nico said finally. He pressed my left hand to his lips. “Before you say another single word, I promise not to go overboard. It will be modest and flawless, just like you.”
“I’m hardly flawless.”
“You see?” he said with a grin. “Modest.”
I shook my head but couldn’t keep from smiling.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering about,” I told him. “Will you answer one question for me?”
“Depends on what it is,” he said — a bit warily, I thought.
“Are you planning on keeping secrets from me? That’s no way to begin a marriage.”
“I promise I’ll tell you anything worth knowing,” he said. “You’ll have to let me be the judge of what concerns you and what doesn’t.”
“That hardly seems fair. I’ll only marry you if you consider me your equal.”
“Of course I do.”
“Then promise you’ll be completely honest with me. That’s not too much to ask.”
He hesitated a moment, the furrow between his brows deepening. “I’ll answer whatever question you ask,” he said. “I promise.”
“Well then, why did you pretend to be in love with Bianca Ingram?”
“Is that all? To make you jealous, of course. How else was I going to get you to fall in love with me?”
“Subterfuge was hardly necessary. I loved you almost from the moment I met you.”
“You did not. I’ve never met a woman so hard to impress. So unwilling to flirt.”
“Not unwilling. Just incompetent. Nobody ever taught me how. Besides, it wasn’t a very nice thing to do to Bianca.”
“Bianca?” He laughed. “By now she’s set her sights on her next victim. I can guarantee she was playing the same game with me. Your sympathy is wasted on Bianca Ingram. Instead, feel sorry for me.”
“For you? Why should I?”
He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Because I’m dying to get my hands on you right now. I don’t think I can wait till we get back to the house.”
But, of course, he did wait. When we got home to Thornfield Park, we found Lucia in the breakfast room, piles of paper spread around her, trying to make phone calls while keeping an eye on Maddy, who was at the table cutting paper snowflakes and chatting a mile a minute. At the sight of me, Maddy leaped up and threw her arms around me.
“You go,” I prodded Nico. “Make yourself busy. I need to help Lucia.”
He gave me a wounded look but left the room.
When Lucia had hung up the phone, I caught her eye. “I’ll take over with Maddy now,” I told her. “I can see how badly you need to do your own work.”
She thanked me, looking sincerely grateful, and I thought of our encounter that morning. “Lucia, I feel like I need to explain.”
She waved me off. “Nothing to explain. I can see for myself.”
“But you looked so disappointed in me this morning.”
“Not disappointed. Just, I don’t know, surprised.”
“Surprised that Nico could be interested in someone like me?” I tried not to sound as hurt as I felt. “Am I really that unlovable?”
“Sweetie” — Lucia jumped up and gave me a hug — “no, that’s not it. It’s just that you seem so… so sensible. So self-contained. Of course, I could tell that you’d become a sort of pet of Nico’s, but I didn’t think much of it. He’s always been very careful to distance himself from the women on his staff.” She motioned me out into the hallway, away from Maddy. “Stacy — two nannies ago — had a huge thing for him, and when it began to get in the way of her work, he had me find her another position. Said he wanted to keep things professional. So, you see, I just didn’t see this coming.”
I thought about telling her that Nico and I were engaged but then decided to let him make the announcement himself, when he saw fit. He was her boss, and I was still her subordinate. “Well, it won’t make as big a difference as you might think,” I said. “I’ll be looking after Maddy, as usual.”
Lucia glanced around, checking to be sure that Nico wasn’t nearby. “One thing, Jane. I wouldn’t say this if I weren’t fond of you. I just hope you’ll be careful.”
“Careful of what?”
“Men like Nico, when they take up with their employees — well, they don’t usually, but if they do — it generally doesn’t work out well for the woman.”
I felt impatience take hold of me and don’t know what I would have said if Maddy hadn’t come out into the hallway and tugged my hand just then. “Are you taking me to the show tonight, Miss Jane?” she asked. “Lucia bought me a new dress. Come see.”
I let her lead me off, and the two of us spent an afternoon so like the many others we’d shared together that I found myself forgetting the enormous changes of the past twenty-four hours for as long as half an hour at a time. Then I’d notice the warm glow of happiness in the pit of my stomach or the faint tingling on my face from Nico’s stubble, and I’d remember — and feel a sudden lurch of vertigo, as if an elevator had shot me to the top of the Empire State Building and I was suddenly staring down at the hundred-story drop.
CHAPTER 19
The rehearsal show was everything Nico could have hoped for. The local newspapers raved, and a number of magazines picked up the story of Nico’s comeback. “Rathburn’s Back and Better than Ever” announced a headline in Entertainment Weekly. The day after the show, Mitch swung by the house with feedback from people he’d hired to monitor the Internet: Nico’s fan base was wildly enthusiastic about the show. The general run of opinions was that the coming tour stood a good chance of being Nico’s best ever. When tickets for the U.S. leg went on sale a couple of days later, most venues sold out in fifteen minutes.
From where I had stood — a roped-off area stage left — with Maddy, Kitty, Yvonne, and assorted family, friends, and acquaintances of the band, the show at the XL Center was absolutely thrilling. Not that I had much to compare it with. I had never been in an arena full of screaming fans before. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting. In the hour before the show, the crowd sat tamely in their seats, but as time passed and the anticipation grew, the tension in the cavernous room became something I could actually feel, like static electricity. Then the houselights flicked off, and the crowd sent up a dull roar, like the sound a retreating wave makes against a pebbly beach but multiplied and echoing. Next the band took the stage — first Tom and Lonnie, then Mike and Dennis, and finally, after a long pause, Nico, dressed all in black, with bracelets of thick silver chain around both wrists. The crowd went wild. The fans
were louder than I had thought possible. Nico looked up solemnly to survey the crowd, then a smile stole across his face. It was the smile of someone who had thought he might never make it home again but who has, unaccountably and against all odds, arrived. My heart flipped in my chest. “Good evening, friends,” he said into the microphone, then pulled his guitar strap over his head and counted off.
What followed was a revelation. How had I felt I’d known Nico without seeing his face bathed in the spotlight, his ability to command the entire audience’s attention by lifting a hand, that compact but muscled frame I loved so well set in motion by the music he himself had composed? Watching Nico play his guitar, exhort the crowd to sing along, and whip the whole arena into a frenzy, made me long for him even more than I had before.
And how could I have imagined I understood him without hearing him sing the songs he’d written? His recorded voice was one thing; onstage it was more expressive, ranging from light and playful to the occasional howl that channeled a sadness I’d never known was there. Hearing that loneliness in his voice made me wonder what else I didn’t know about the man I was about to marry. I felt a chill through my whole body, a feeling very close to fear, though if anyone asked about it I wouldn’t have been able to say what I was afraid of.
How strange it was to hear sixteen thousand people singing the words Nico had written, to hear their thunderous applause, and to see thousands of arms moving like a tidal wave threatening to sweep him away. In a silent moment between songs, a woman’s voice rose up drunkenly from the crowd. “I just want to touch you, Nico!” she screamed. Her cry made me notice what I hadn’t before — the crowd packed tight and straining forward just in front of the stage, and three burly men in black standing with their backs to the band, keeping watch. But what could they do to protect him if the entire crowd surged forward at once?
And then, just as my nerves threatened to overtake my pride and pleasure, Nico strolled midsong to the side of the stage where I stood, my hands on Maddy’s shoulders. He was singing “Down Romeo Street,” a love song from his third album, and now he stood before me with a teasing smile, looking down at me. “Hey there, angel,” he called between verses. “Don’t you go anywhere, okay?” — the private message made public by the microphone in his hands. I could see the crowd turn in my direction, trying to get a glimpse of whomever Nico had been speaking to, though from where most of them sat, I was invisible, obstructed by the stage and hidden in shadow. How to put a name to the excruciating pangs I felt at that moment — love, embarrassment, pride, fear, joy, all mixed together in equal parts? I didn’t even stop to think that the words he sang had been written long ago, for another woman he used to love.