ASHFORD VOW: Poison In A White Dress

The advertisement was three paragraphs long. Eloise read it once. Put her coffee down. Read it again. Picked her coffee back up. Read it a third time while drinking the coffee and by the end of the third read she was smiling not the warm kind, not the polite kind the quiet, slow, particular kind of smile that had no business being on anyone's face at seven forty three in the morning. ASHFORD INDUSTRIES — PRIVATE NOTICE. Seeking a suitable companion for a contractual arrangement of a matrimonial nature. Duration: six months. Compensation: generous and negotiable. Requirements: discretion, impeccable presentation, and the ability to navigate high society without incident. Serious enquiries only. Background verification required. Without incident. She almost laughed. She set her coffee down and reached for the notebook small, black, leather bound, the kind that looked like it belonged to someone who wrote poetry but actually belonged to someone who wrote lists. Careful lists. Color coded lists. Lists with subsections and footnotes and small stars drawn next to names that had been waiting patiently for their moment. She opened it to the first page. ASHFORD FAMILY. Underlined. Twice. With a star she'd drawn at 2am on the worst night of her life using a red pen because black hadn't felt sufficient. Below the name, in her neat careful handwriting They took everything. Take it back. She looked at the advertisement again. Damien Ashford thirty years old, CEO of Ashford Industries, net worth somewhere in the region of obscene — needed a fake wife. Eloise Barker twenty four years old, last surviving member of a family name that had been dragged through every financial and social gutter available by the Ashford's needed a front door. She closed the notebook. Opened her laptop. Started typing. She got approximately four sentences into the application before the front door of her flat opened without knocking because it had never once in six years occurred to Maya Chen that knocking was something she needed to do NEVER and Maya walked in carrying Food at seven forty five in the morning like this was a completely normal thing to do. "I made food," Maya announced, setting it on the counter and opening a drawer for a fork like she lived there She lived twelve minutes away and had a key that Eloise had given her for emergencies and that Maya had expanded the definition of to include hunger, boredom, loneliness, something funny happening, something sad happening, and Tuesdays. "It's not even eight," Eloise said. "Food has no time zone Ellie." Maya pulled out the fork, opened the container, and looked over Eloise's shoulder at the laptop screen. "What are you writing?" "An application." "For what?" Eloise turned the laptop slightly so Maya could read the advertisement on the other tab. Maya read it. Read it again. Put her fork down. "Eloise." "Maya." "Eloise Scarlett Barker." "That's not my middle name." "I'm giving you a new one for the occasion." Maya pulled out the chair next to her and sat down very slowly "You want to apply. To be his fake wife. To go and LIVE in that house." "Yes." "The Ashford house." "Yes." "The house of the people who—" "Yes Maya." Maya picked up her fork. Put it back down. Picked it up again. Put it in the food she Didn't eat Just held it there. "Okay," she said finally. "Okay okay okay. So your plan and stop me if I'm mischaracterizing your plan is to walk into the home of the people who destroyed your family, smile at their faces, eat their food, sleep in their house, and do what exactly? Look around? Make friends? Start a book club?" "Find the proof," Eloise said simply. "That they orchestrated the raid. That they took the Barker assets and buried them. That my parents didn't fail they were failed. I find the proof. I expose them. I burn it all down from the inside." Maya stared at her. "And the fake marriage part?" "Gets me through the front door." "For six months." "Six months is enough." Maya ate a little Chewed slowly. Stared at the wall. "You know," she said thoughtfully, "most people with enemies just make a strongly worded complaint. Post something online. Write a letter. Maybe cry." "I don't cry." "I KNOW you don't cry that's part of what concerns me." Maya waved her fork. "Eloise. They will investigate you. They said background verification. Your name our name the Barker name is not exactly low profile in certain circles." "I know." "They will find out who you are." "I'm counting on it." Eloise turned back to her laptop. "A woman applying to marry into the family that destroyed hers looks desperate or delusional. Not dangerous. They'll think they're being clever letting me in. They won't think I'm a threat." Maya opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "This," she said, "is either the smartest thing you've ever said or I need to call someone. I genuinely cannot tell." "It's the smartest thing." "You're very confident for someone about to fake marry a man described by three separate publications as 'impossible.'" "I've dealt with impossible before." "Name one time." Eloise looked at her. Maya pointed her fork. "I don't count. I'm not impossible I'm just free spirited." Eloise turned back to the laptop. Maya ate her food in silence for approximately forty five seconds which was her personal record. "Okay but what is he like," she said. "The man. Damien Ashford I've seen the pictures but pictures lie my cousin Diane looked completely normal in her profile photo and then I met her in person and she chewed with intention, Eloise. With PURPOSE. You cannot trust pictures." Eloise reached for her phone. Pulled up an article. Handed it to Maya. Maya read it. Scrolled. Read more. "Cold," she said. "Yes." "Controlled." "Very." "Never photographed smiling." "Not once." "Grey eyes." Maya looked up. "Everything about this man is grey. His suits. His building. His EYES. Is he okay? Has anyone checked on him? Has anyone brought him food" "Maya." "I'm just saying a little color never hurt anyone Ellie." She handed the phone back. Looked at her best friend of thirteen years. At the set of her jaw and the calm in her eyes and the notebook sitting closed on the table between them. "You've already decided." It wasn't a question. "I decided three years ago," Eloise said. "I was just waiting for the door." Maya looked at her for a long time. Then she picked up her jollof. "Fine," she said. "But I want updates. Daily updates. Voice notes. If something happens and I find out from somebody else I will never forgive you and I will make sure you know it every day for the rest of your life." "I know." "And if that man is horrible to you—" "I can handle—" "If he is HORRIBLE to you," Maya repeated "I will come to that grey building and I will find him and I will explain to him in terms he understands exactly what kind of person he has disrespected and exactly what that means for his immediate future. Are we clear?" Eloise almost smiled. "We're clear," she said. Maya nodded once. Decisively. "Good." She stood up with her jollof container. "Now finish your application. And Eloise—" "Mm." "Wear the cream blazer for the interview. Not the black one. The black one says 'I'm here to cause problems.' The cream one says 'I'm here to be a lovely bride' which is technically a lie but a more useful one." Eloise looked at her. "That's actually good advice." "I give excellent advice," Maya said, deeply offended that this was surprising. "I give CONSISTENTLY excellent advice and yet every time you act like it's a miracle. Every time. As if I haven't been right about everything since 2015." She took her food to the sofa. Made herself comfortable. Turned on the television. "I'll be here when you finish," she said. "I want to proofread." Eloise looked at her. At the television. At the Food "You're not leaving are you." "Of course not," Maya said comfortably. "This is important. I'm providing emotional support." "By watching television and eating." "Eloise." Maya looked at her with great patience. "This IS how I provide emotional support. Do you want me to cry? Should I cry? I can manufacture tears if that would make you feel better but I want you to know it will take me a few minutes to get there and the quality may vary." Eloise turned back to her laptop. She kept typing. Three days later the response came. Miss Barker. Mr. Ashford will see you Thursday. 2pm. Dress appropriately. Eloise read it twice. Opened the notebook. Drew a small door next to the Ashford name. Called Maya. Maya picked up on the first ring. "ALREADY?" "Thursday." "THURSDAY?! Okay we need to prepare. We need a strategy. We need to talk about what you're going to say and how you're going to say it and what face you're going to make—" "I have a face." "You have SEVERAL faces and not all of them are appropriate for this specific situation. The one you make when you're planning something looks like—" "Like what?" A pause. "Like a very beautiful natural disaster that hasn't happened yet," Maya said. "Which is accurate but potentially alarming to a man you're trying to convince to marry you." "Fake marry." "FAKE marry. Yes. Okay. Thursday. We have until Thursday." "Maya-" "Eloise?" "I'll be fine." "I know you'll be fine," Maya said immediately. "I'll be the one who's not fine. That's my role. You're fine, I'm not fine, we balance each other out, it's a whole system." Eloise almost laughed. "Goodnight Maya." "Goodnight. Sleep. And Eloise—" "Cream blazer." "CREAM BLAZER." She hung up. Eloise looked at the notebook one more time. Closed it. Put it in her bag. Thursday, she thought. She was ready. She'd been ready for three FULL years.