Tis The Season for Secrets (Village of Yule #2)

10. Juliet

B y nine o’clock, the steps in front of the museum were empty since they’d missed everyone arriving. Thanks to the icy roads, what should have been a twenty-minute drive had taken nearly an hour. The moment Juliet saw the press weren’t waiting on the steps, her nerves settled, and she thanked whatever god was responsible for the weather for delaying them. Her father would be furious with her for being late, but she got some amusement from knowing he’d have to swallow it for the night so he wouldn’t make a scene in public.

“Thanks for the ride!” Juliet hugged Victor from behind the driver’s seat before hurrying out of the black sedan.

“Have a good night! Call if there are any issues,” he called after them. His nervous gaze unsettled Juliet.

“As always.” She saluted him through the window.

Victor saluted back, always in her corner. It had been Nana Rose’s gesture, a way of saying ‘stiff upper lip’; Victor had adopted it after her death. The thought reminded her of the letter. She wished she’d read it sooner. She needed to get to the bottom of all these secrets, but for now she’d have to be patient.

“Ms Frost, Ms Roth, welcome. If you’d both please follow me.” Clearly, the suited greeter had done his homework on the guests. They were swiftly led down a long corridor adorned with artefacts from various centuries. The pillars that separated each exhibit were ornately decorated Christmas trees. The pine smell was a touch overwhelming.

Even with the festive decorations, the museum, empty save for the music drifting from the event’s room at the end of the corridor, gave Juliet the creeps. Margot seemed right at home, admiring each dimly lit exhibition. Then again, when else would you get a private tour of one of the busiest museums in the world?

“The main course will be served momentarily; I suggest you take your seats. The speeches have already begun.” The greeter checked his watch, his nostrils flaring. They’d clearly ruined his timing.

“This is so embarrassing.” Margot blushed as he directed them to the centre table, where Juliet’s father sat with some men Juliet had never seen before. It was by an overwhelmingly white Christmas tree so tall that she wondered how they’d even got it inside.

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” she whispered, steering them to the two empty seats to her father’s left. As usual, Gillian would be sitting at the head table with the other event-planners.

In fact, she was midway through her speech about the importance of this charity gala. Juliet winced as she caught her stepmother’s eye. If looks could kill, Gillian’s could slaughter.

“They weren’t kidding when they said the theme was Winter Wonderland,” Margot whispered, distracting her. It was true – the Roman-style statues were made of ice, and the large, ornate snowflakes hanging from the snow-speckled glass ceiling looked like they were straight from the film Frozen , if Elsa had been given a bigger budget. With the glow of fairy lights amongst them, it almost appeared to be snowing within the function room.

“So glad you both could make it.” Mr Frost winked at Juliet and rose to kiss her cheek. He clearly wasn’t surprised to see Margot in the slightest, so he’d either anticipated her plan, or Victor had messaged ahead to spare Juliet from getting into trouble.

What is going on with him? He should be quietly seething, but he seems downright cheery. Maybe he’s dying , she thought, unkind as it was.

He sat Juliet next to him, and Margot sat beside her as waiters in white uniforms and perfect silver bow-ties cleared the starters. Juliet noticed the table was missing a guest. She wondered who else was late.

“Sorry we were late,” she said quietly to the table, “the icy roads really slowed down traffic.” A few of the guests acknowledged her with waves that said ‘no need to apologise’ and ‘at least you made it safely’, and Margot introduced herself.

There was a round of applause for Gillian, and Juliet joined in.

“Thank God that’s over with,” her father said, giving them his full attention. “You both look beautiful. It’s lovely to see you again, Margot. I’m delighted we’ve a member of the Roth family joining us; Gillian was so disappointed to hear that your father had to pull out last-minute.”

“I’m delighted to be here, and I’m sure my family would want me to send their regards.” Margot made bullshitting look easy, not even looking slightly fazed at the news of her family’s absence.

Mr Frost tucked into his steak without responding, but his eyes lingered on Margot. Gross. Juliet downed the flute of champagne and squeezed Margot’s leg under the table, trying to reassure her that he was only looking for a reaction. This was not how she’d wanted the evening to go.

“I took the liberty of ordering you vegan mousse, Juliet; Gillian mentioned you were on a diet,” Mr Frost said, while the white-gloved waiter laid a bowl of cold green goo before her.

Margot stifled a chuckle with her napkin as Juliet poked it with a fork. “I wouldn’t feed that to the stray cat outside our building,” she whispered.

“Looks great– thanks, Dad,” Juliet said, not wanting to fall into a trap. Gillian was the master of subtle digs. Juliet had been curvy ever since puberty had hit her like a freight train. Once she’d despised the tiger stripes on her hips or that her thighs dared to touch, but once she’d left the Frost estate, she’d learned to love her body, to eat what she wanted, and to exercise because she wanted to and not because she had to.

Margot ate her steak with great enthusiasm while Juliet filled up on the bread and champagne. The only thing that should come in mousse form is chocolate. At least her dad had stopped staring at her friend.

“That steak! There are no words—” Margot put down her knife and fork as the waiter began to clear their plates.

“The slurping noises were a bit of a giveaway.” Juliet smirked.

“How was your delicious vegan mousse?” Margot asked, once the table was clear.

“I think I’ve pulled stuff out of the garbage disposable that looked more edible.”

“Probably would taste better, too.”

They cracked up laughing. Thank God for dessert– Juliet’s favourite, two scoops of peppermint ice-cream in a beautiful crystal bowl. Having a good time was easy with Margot to chat to.

“Tonight isn’t so bad, is it?” Margot reasoned, looking to all the people engaged in polite conversation at their table. Thankfully, Mr Frost had been too engrossed in a private conversation with the man on his other side to pay them any more mind. Juliet wondered what had happened to the mysterious guy he’d wanted to set her up with. Hopefully it was his seat that remained empty. He probably backed out when he learned about the set-up and wanted to spare us both an evening of awkward small-talk.

Once dinner finished, the dance floor, made to look like a frozen lake, filled up with guests, and the bandstand commenced with classic Christmas songs sans lyrics. Margot got up to mingle with the other guests with an ease that Juliet had never been able to achieve. She was satisfied to enjoy the music and observe the party, ignoring the occasional disapproving looks she received, possibly due to last year’s scandal.

“Holy crap, do you know who’s here?” Margot squealed, meeting Juliet at the bar –the perfect hiding spot, as it was in the corner. If only her tiny clutch bag could’ve fitted a book.

“Considering you were dancing with a future king when I last looked, it must be someone good.”

That was when Juliet saw him. Will. His black suit matched his dark gaze as he found her across the room. He winked at her and raised his glass. One look, and she felt utterly exposed.

“Will Duncan, the CEO of Duncan Recruiting! He finds people to do any job anywhere in the world. My dad’s been trying to get him as a client for two years. I tried to get an interview a while back to handle his company’s tech security, but they’re strictly in-house only.” Margot sighed, staring across the room at the business opportunity that could change her life.

“ Will Duncan? Are you sure?” Juliet stammered, hoping Margot was talking about one of the men standing with Will and not the man she’d spent the night with. Worse, her father was also heading towards him. This didn’t look good. Could Will be the Mr Duncan her father had mentioned? She remembered suddenly that the receptionist had called him Mr Duncan, but she’d never connected the dots – it was a common surname.

“Are you okay? You look a little pale,” Margot said, as Juliet watched her father shake Will’s hand. Her stomach dropped. She’d already slept with the man she was being set up with. I should’ve known one night of fun would come back to bite me on the ass.

“Too much champagne,” she said, downing her glass. “I need some air.”

Margot’s brow creased with worry. “I’ll go with you.”

They’d just passed the table nearest the terrace doors when Will and her father blocked their path. Given Will’s devilish smile, one Juliet remembered from a much more intimate setting, the humour of this moment wasn’t a surprise to him.

“Juliet, let me introduce you,” Mr Frost said, shoving Will towards her.

“Will,” Will corrected him, eyes on Juliet.

“Juliet.” She didn’t know what else to do but to play along.

“Have we met before?” he quipped. Her father frowned, looking between them.

“No,” Juliet said, a little too quickly. His stubble was gone, and his dark hair had been combed. But his eyes hadn’t changed, nor the way they looked at her.

“My mistake.” Will took her hand and brought it to his lips. The sensation was enough to make her hate herself. Had this been a set-up all along? Did he approach me on purpose the other night?

He was still holding her hand. Disengaging rather abruptly, she decided to make up some excuse to leave, only to stop herself when she remembered she had to talk with her father about the letter. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted by a devastatingly handsome man in an expensive suit.

“Dad, could I talk to you?” Juliet tried to draw him away, but he refused to budge.

“About what chickpea? Now isn’t the time – unless you’d like to praise me for having picked a good one? I was bound to get it right one of these days.” He looked at Will like he was a champion racehorse. Margot was doing her part as buffer and client hunter, introducing herself to Will with ease.

Juliet clenched her fist, wishing he’d focus. “No, it’s about Nana Rose. Did you know she was talking with—”

The breaking of glass interrupted them. A waiter passing Will had stumbled and dropped his tray, spilling red wine and glass shards all over the white tablecloth and floor.

“How clumsy of me! Sorry, man, I didn’t see you behind me,” Will said, helping up the frazzled waiter, who hurried off without a word. Will grabbed a napkin and placed it over the stain on the white tablecloth before it spread further.

“Sorry, what were you asking?” Mr Frost said, handing Will a new glass of wine. Juliet watched him put it down immediately.

“Did Nana Rose ever—”

“Might I ask your daughter to dance?” Will interjected. Juliet could’ve sworn he was doing this on purpose. Before she could protest, he added, “Perhaps it might bring back a memory of having met before.”

Juliet glared at him. If he revealed just how well they ‘knew’ each other, her dad would be planning their wedding before the end of the night.

“I’m sure she’d be honoured.” Mr Frost nudged her towards him.

Will offered her his arm. Juliet looked for Margot, hoping for an escape, but her friend had been distracted by a man who’d apparently decided against a jacket and tie, in spite of the stringent dress code. Trust Margot to find a rebel amongst the guests.

Will followed her gaze. “Don’t worry, your friend is in safe hands,” he whispered with a wink.

Her buffer had clearly been intercepted by his friend. Juliet forced a smile, wishing she’d confronted her father earlier so she could have left before Will arrived.

“There aren’t many dancing quite yet, and I don’t want another spectacle like last year,” Juliet said, not wanting to be gawked at.

“Don’t be silly, when has a dance ever hurt anyone?” Frost said, eager to forgo the rules to get them together. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe Gillian is talking to the CEO of City Bank. I should go and save her.”

“I’m sure the Prince of Maldonia would speak to the contrary,” Will murmured over her shoulder as she watched her dad go. He wore the same aftershave as when they’d met, causing her body to remember some of the other, finer details of that night.

Juliet wanted the ground to swallow her up. Clearly he knew far more about her than he’d let on. “You do know this is a set-up, right? I suggest you run for the hills before the wedding venue and theme is decided.”

“I do – and thankfully my friend can keep your buffer company.” He looked to his friend, who’d whisked Margot away to the bar.

Traitor, Juliet thought, but she couldn’t blame her.

“As for a wedding venue, what about the Bryce hotel? I think it would be romantic to end it where we started. I know the owner, so I could probably get us a good rate.” Will snaked his arm around her waist, leading her to the dance floor.

Of course he knows the owner. Who the hell is this guy? Juliet hushed him. “I’d keep what happened between us quiet, unless you want to be dragged to City Hall. Dad would make you a Frost by dawn.”

“I can’t blame him for being protective of his daughter,” Will said, taking her in his arms.

“More like protect his property.” The words flew out before she could stop them.

His hand brushed her lower back, making her heartbeat quicken and distracting her from her worries. “I have to say, I thought I’d receive a warmer welcome,” he said quietly, as she tried to follow his steps without treading on his toes. He had a way of throwing her off balance.

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.” She’d spent so many hours wanting and wishing to see him again, but knowing he knew her dad made her question his motives. She tried to keep her distance, but he pulled her close – close enough for others to notice and whisper.

“I don’t remember you being so quiet.” Will stared down at her as though trying to read her mind. Memories of the other night flooded back: his skin against hers, his lips tasting every inch of her. “You’ve gone red. Are you alright?”

“Just the champagne,” Juliet lied, unable to meet his heavy gaze. She glanced down, and his cufflinks caught her eye. The Christmas tree… the symbol looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. So where?

The chest under my bed. Juliet froze in his arms, realising he’d turned up the very night she’d received the chest. She had so many questions, but no idea where to start, and she couldn’t leave the dance floor without causing a scene, since they’d been joined by other couples. She tried to picture the chest in her head, to figure out if it was truly the same symbol.

“Did you know who I was when you approached me at the hotel?” she blurted out, needing to know if what had happened between them had been some game.

“Yes.” Will didn’t even hesitate. “And I knew you’d be here tonight because Harvey, who is currently charming your friend in the silver dress, is part of the charity that helped arrange all this.”

“So, seducing me was all part of some twisted set-up?” Juliet felt the muscles in his shoulder tense at the question. She stared up at him, needing to know he was telling the truth.

“There was no set-up. I didn’t know you’d be in the bar that night. Is there a rule about not being allowed to approach a beautiful woman just because I know her last name?” Will asked, spinning her round so her back was flush against him.

She gritted her teeth, trying to ignore his charm. “How did you know what I looked like?” At least he was being upfront about it, and given that she hadn’t known she’d be at the Bryce that night, he couldn’t have planned it in advance.

“Society pages.” He sighed out the answer like it was obvious and turned her back to face him. “Can you stop looking at me like I’m some evil spy? I’m not planning on kidnapping you or becoming a Frost. I only met your father recently because when I saw my friend for drinks the other night, he was having a business dinner with Frost and his wife. I’m not scheming with your father, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He pulled her close again, forcing her to meet his eye, and she didn’t know if it was naivety or lust, but she trusted him.

“I’m choosing to believe you.”

“I’m glad I passed the interrogation,” Will teased, spinning her around again so they were chest to chest. He dipped his head, and she couldn’t take her eyes off his lips. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight? I might change my mind about stealing you away.”

His deep voice resonated through her, and she realised how much she missed his touch. How can a stranger make me feel so safe when my actual family sends me into fight or flight mode? She didn’t realise she’d settled so deeply into his embrace until the round of applause at the end of the song snapped her back to reality.

Juliet clapped for the band, but spotting Gillian and her father whispering to each other ruined the moment. The paranoia of being watched like a bug under a microscope got the better of her.

“Gotta go to the ladies’ room, if you’ll excuse me.” She hurried off before Will had a chance to stop her.

With some space, Juliet could finally breathe again. The salmon-pink ladies’ room startled her more than the guests who went silent when she entered. The white doors separating each cubicle broke up the bold pink shade, but not the tension her presence created.

Forcing a smile, Juliet passed the women touching up their already perfect make-up at the marble sinks. Once she’d run some cold water on her wrists, her heart rate started to return to normal, as did the surrounding conversation.

“Juliet?” Fiona Caldwell – the darling of society and editor of GlaMORE magazine – stood behind her in the mirror. It was the type of magazine filled with societal and celebrity gossip, along with ads for products very few could afford.

“Fiona! It’s good to see you,” Juliet lied, forcing a fake hug. Last year Fiona had written a two-page exclusive about how appalled she was by Juliet’s incident with the prince.

“We have to catch up soon! Maybe coffee?” Fiona beamed as they released each other.

“I’ll text you. If we survive the night,” Juliet said, referencing the article. It had ended by predicting that the charity event wouldn’t survive another year if Juliet Frost were to pull another such stunt.

Fiona patted her arm playfully. “I hope you weren’t offended by that little article. We live for the gossip you stir up; the event would be nothing without you.”

“I’m afraid there’ll be nothing to write about this year. I brought a friend to keep me in check.” Juliet wished she’d stayed with Will, even if she was suspicious of his intentions.

“A friend?” Fiona powdered her surgically perfected nose. “Would that be Will Duncan? We saw you dancing. He’s quite the catch – surprised you got to him first.” She giggled.

Juliet got out her lipstick. “No, I’ve only just met him. I came with Margot Roth. Last time I checked, she was at the bar with Harvey…” She trailed off, realising she didn’t know his last name.

“Harvey Bryce,” Fiona filled in. “I wondered if they were dating, considering the rest of her family aren’t in attendance. Not that I’m surprised; everyone knows about their little family tiff.” Fiona liked to be involved in everyone’s business. Juliet wondered how she had the capacity to remember so much gossip. “Bryce is quite the catch, and you with Will Duncan – seems you’re both doing quite well for yourselves.” Fiona nudged her, and Juliet nearly streaked her lipstick across her cheek.

“I’ll introduce you,” she said through a forced smile, merely wanting the conversation to end.

“Oh, no need. There’s no one here who doesn’t know Mr Duncan, and Harvey Bryce is not a man whose radar I want to be on. I hate to mention it again, but I thought I really should mention how the ladies were put out that you seemed to get the catch of the evening.” Fiona rested her hand over Juliet’s, feigning concern. “But I don’t blame you for wanting to get there first.”

“Will asked me to dance, and it would’ve been rude to decline. If he wants to ask anyone else to dance, then that’s up to him.” Juliet didn’t like the insinuation that she’d ensnared him. She couldn’t imagine Fiona’s reaction if she knew they’d already been… acquainted.

“No need to explain; I’m sure the ladies will understand when I explain you were merely doing as instructed. At least Will fared better than the prince!”

Fiona’s laugh grated on Juliet’s last nerve and made her want to pull out the woman’s expensive hair extensions. “Will knows where to keep his hands,” she said pointedly.

“I’m sure you’ll put his hands to great use by the end of the evening.” Fiona winked. Juliet gritted her teeth. “We should meet up soon. I’m serious– maybe a night out with Margot? She must need a good cheering up. I heard Mr Roth cut her off,” Fiona went on, clearly rooting for the truth of the situation. “I suppose her aunt took pity on her and allowed her to come.”

“Ms Roth was invited. Some of us can make it just fine on our own,” Juliet snapped, and Fiona’s lips formed a tight line. This woman could insult her all she wanted, but no one went after her friend. “Speaking of, I was so sad to hear about your marriage, and after such a beautiful wedding! I hope it didn’t set you back too much, but at least you won’t have to return the wedding gifts.” She didn’t like to stoop so low – and she didn’t want to get Margot into trouble either, given that she only knew about Fiona’s husband buying his mistress an apartment because Mr Caldwell had hired Margot to make the purchases untraceable – but she couldn’t resist reminding Fiona that her shit did in fact stink. “To be divorced after only two years of marriage must be humiliating.”

Fiona straightened her narrow shoulders, gathering herself. “You’d know all about humiliation.” She stepped so close, Juliet could smell the alcohol on her breath. “Given that your mother was a gold-digging social climber who left you on a doorstep after failing to snare your father. It’s amazing how you find the strength to face the world.”

Juliet glanced at the other women in the bathroom. Either they hadn’t heard or didn’t want to get involved. She refused to crack, to let Fiona see how her words had cut her. She simply picked up Fiona’s glass from the sink and handed her the flute.

“Drown in it,” she whispered, before pressing her red lips against the woman’s cheek. Fiona gaped; Juliet left her standing there like the trout she was.

Her bright smile dropped as soon as she spotted Mark Hume at her table. He was Ms Baum’s boss, and had clearly dropped the news before she could.

“Juliet, we were talking about your work. Apparently you’ve been promoted! How could you not tell me?” her father said, as she reached their table. Hurt and anger at Fiona swirled in her gut, making it hard to focus.

“It was only just made official,” she said, trying not to let her emotions into her voice. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not feeling too well. I’m afraid the champagne has gone to my head.” It was code to her father that she’d been insulted and unless he wanted a scene, he should let her leave.

“I wouldn’t want to keep you if you’re unwell.” Mr Frost rose from his chair and glanced around the room as if to see who had upset her, but she knew he only wanted to know who’d spoken against a Frost, not out of a desire to defend her.

The first tear fell. Juliet swiped it away as she kissed her father’s cheek and wished the table goodnight. Concern creased Will’s brow, but she couldn’t explain here, even if she didn’t want him to think he was the reason for her leaving. Glancing around the room, she spotted Margot dancing happily with the man she now knew as Harvey Bryce and couldn’t bring herself to interrupt them.

“Could you make sure Margot gets home?” she asked her dad. He might have his failings, but he wouldn’t let anything happen to his friend’s daughter on his watch.

“I’ll have Victor pick her up when she is ready,” Mr Frost agreed curtly.

“It was lovely to meet you,” she said to the table in general, before grabbing her clutch from the table and leaving without looking back. She didn’t know where she was going, but she just had to get out of there.