Lights, Camera, Omega (Hollywood Omegas #1)

With no small amount of self control, we shrug into our bathrobes and gather our wits about us just in time for the spa attendants to return, knocking softly at the door.

After several peels, scrubs, wraps, mud baths, and one entirely-too-short deep tissue massage—Julian and I are turned over, glowing and blissed out, to the salon side of the establishment.

Nail technicians swarm about us as they manicure and pedicure us to perfection. My nails and toes painted in a pale, shimmery shade of iridescent pink; Julian’s simply buffed to a high shine.

The pair of us are seated next to one another, sipping on cucumber mint infused water as our deep conditioning treatments soak into our freshly trimmed tresses, when Julian begins to delve into a bit of juicy history.

“So, I imagine you’ve wondered how things have sort of… Shaken out amongst us over the years, hm?” He wiggles his fiery auburn brows, shouldering me playfully.

“I’ve been dying to ask but I don’t want to pry,” I confess.

“So, you know about Magnus before he was famous, right?” Julian treads carefully, not wanting to give away his story before it is told.

I shake my head.

“Well, his father was a famous Danish diplomat and his mother was royalty from Lichtenstein—a princess, though far down the line of succession…and a woman.”

I can feel my eyes widen.

“So does that mean—” I interject, unable to finish the thought.

“Oh no, his mother did him the courtesy of abstaining from giving him a royal title when he was born. It allowed him to live a life with some semblance of normalcy.” Julian waves his hand dismissively.

“Well, as normal as the lives of the incredibly wealthy ever are.”

I sip my spa water and eye him keenly, encouraging him to continue.

“I should know, because that’s how we met.” Julian gives a puckish wink.

“Oh?” I swirl my straw, the ice clinking in my glass.

“I was still studying at the Istituto Marangoni campus in Paris when Magnus and Cosmo were living in France for the shooting of Gravitation.”

My heart nearly skips a beat hearing Julian’s recollections. Gravitation came out in my freshman year of high school—it essentially crystallized my desire to become a Hollywood actress, to go into film.

“It was actually Cosmo who attended my senior student fashion show. He had been free for the afternoon and went looking for something to do that wouldn’t baffle him as a non-French speaker. Luckily for me, the campus was only a few minutes from the Place de L’Opera—and caught his eye.”

I sit on the edge of my seat, entranced by Julian’s tale.

“He went back to their rented penthouse that night and insisted that Magnus get me to make his suits for the latter half of Gravitation filming.”

My mouth hangs open as I realize that the poster of Cosmo I have been lusting after for nearly a decade features him wearing one of Julian’s perfectly tailored designs.

“Imagine my surprise when Magnus Wagner showed up in the halls of my humble fashion school campus after my pre-graduation portfolio critique,” he laughs sunnily.

“Of course, I was instantly smitten with him. I pulled out all the stops trying to impress him with my rich boy cred—a yacht trip to St. Tropez, a weekend in Florence, a raw silk vintage kimono that I spent nearly five hundred hours hand-embroidering a mute swan, the national bird of Denmark if you didn’t know, onto the back of,” he laughs at himself.

“Well, obviously it worked,” I volley back with a laugh.

“It very nearly didn’t,” Julian laughs.

I purse my lips around my straw and give him an appraising look.

“Well, at first I was incredibly jealous,” Julian admits.

“Of Cosmo Lamont?” I scoff.

“Oh I couldn’t imagine why,” I chirp sarcastically.