Chapter 26

This time there was no Elijah to help steady my nerves, and my hands worried at the little clutch I’d managed to wrangle out of the heap of clothes I hadn’t had an opportunity to wear in my time at Paris as the limo came to a stop. It was nowhere near the level of chic that Elijah’s dress lent me, but even Paula had agreed that it would do and that was all the assurance I needed.

“We’ve arrived, Mademoiselle,” Jacques said from his seat at the front when I hadn’t moved to open the door, and for a split second I considered telling him to drive me back to the Du Pont but decided against it and opened the door, stepping out feet first onto the red carpet that’d been rolled out.

It was like the first day of the conference all over again, except a hundred times worst now that several A-list actresses and models graced the arms of some of the world’s biggest industrialists. Flashbulbs went off in front of me and for a second I forgot where I was, but the sensation wore off pretty quickly and I recovered in record time.

Elijah had been right, you got used to it given enough time.

Swallowing, I gave silent thanks that my entrance hadn’t been noticed by the crush of paparazzi on either side of the velvet rope barriers that held them back, but this didn’t last long since as soon as I began to make my way forward one photographer turned to me, letting out a cry which alerted the rest of his colleagues, who at once turned on me.

The flashbulbs went on again, this time disorienting me, but I soldiered on, dress in hand even as they cried at questions to catch my attention.

I had a leg on a step and was about to begin my short descent up when, in a moment of pure whimsy, I stopped, throwing a look over my shoulder as I struck a pose that made (and I kid you not) every single cameraman there cheer loudly, deafeningly.

My anxiety must’ve been on some type of coffee break, because as I struck a pose and then another, it didn’t cross my mind to worry about the fact that tomorrow I could very well be gracing the feeds of some prestigious fashion blogs alongside a bunch of other A-listers. It didn’t cross my mind to worry about the quality of my purse, or whether I had a piece of lettuce stuck in my teeth from lunch.

Because my mind rarely ever fell silent, I was usually quick to recognize moments in which it did, and this time was no hesitation.

It felt like I was a nervous eighteen-year-old debutante out on her first night in society, and I basked in the attention for a few seconds more before promptly making my way up the stairs, knowing that the hem of my dress fanning out behind me in a brilliant waterfall of blood red silk would leave a show stopping effect.

I hardly recognized the lobby I’d had close to a month’s time of familiarizing myself with, as now, brightly lit and teeming with groups of well-dressed masses who milled about, socializing, made it appear like something you would find on the front of Page Six.

Deftly, I made my way through the crush, headed for the conference room which I knew had been remodeled for the gala tonight and muttering excuses, dress held firmly with both hands this time. Heads turned everywhere I passed, and I chalked it up to my gown, which was a splash of color in the sea of muted greys, whites, and blacks.

I was almost at my destination when I felt someone bump into me, and for a precarious second I tottered in my heels until she reached out a hand to steady me. She was auburn haired and wore an asymmetrical off-shoulder black midi dress.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, and when I gave a dismissive wave of my hand the movement seemed to call attention to my outfit as her eyes trailed shrewdly down my length up and down in a manner that I could only describe as shameless.

I felt a hot wave of insecurity slosh through me, and was about to make my excuses when she snapped out of whatever haze she’d been in.

“You look lovely,” she said appreciatively. “Who are you wearing?”

For a moment I considered blurting out Elijah’s name, but the impulse left as soon as it arrived and I simpered, giving a slight inclination of my head.

“Alexander McQueen. And thank you, you look lovely too.”

“I’m Inez,” she introduced, holding out a hand which I took without hesitation as I too introduced myself.

We made small talk for a moment after, but through it all I could tell that it was leading up to something and eventually my haunch paid off as she cleared her throat, folding her hands in front of her and looking me right in the eye.

“How would you feel about getting auctioned off for charity tonight?”

I blinked, not sure I’d heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

She chuckled at the alarmed expression on my face before going on to explain how the auction went. It turned out that she happened to be a major event planner, and the auction was just another part of the evening.

I would be under no obligation to even get to know the man who eventually won the bid on me, and even though the idea of standing on a podium in a roomful of people waiting to literally get sold (at least metaphorically) reeked of the patriarchy to me I found myself saying yes, intrigued by the idea of it.

Inez clapped her hands together lightly, before flipping open the notepad I hadn’t even noticed she’d had and asking me a couple of questions which I tried to answer off the bat as confidently as possible, though I wasn’t sure I pulled that off all too well. Satisfied, she shut the book and together we strolled into the conference room, where a harried assistant happened upon us, pausing to whisper into Inez’s ears, to which she offered me an excuse before following after him to where she was needed.

All through the evening I’d kept my eyes peeled for a sight of Elijah, feeling anxious as the night progressed without a caught glimpse of him. It turned out that I shouldn’t have worried myself.

Over the sea of heads our eyes met, and beside him, in a sequined blue satin gown stood Isla, resplendent in a whitish-silver evening dress with long draped panels running over its shoulders that dragged behind her like a shimmery cape—an angel to his devil, as he was dressed from head to toe in black, save the white dress shirt he wore beneath his tuxedo jacket.

I swallowed, frozen and unable to look away from the sight of his handsome face, and then the realization that I was supposed to be angry at him hit me and I broke our gaze, gliding towards the cocktail stand, where from the server I asked for a cup of fruit punch.

It was a tame option to go with, but as the evening wore on I was sure I’d need my wits about me, unlike a short business man who discarded of his champagne flute and snagged another from the tray of a passing waiter.

He threw me a lascivious wink before tottering off, and the sight of this stranger stumbling away made my lips quirk up in barely concealed amusement, which lasted at least until I felt the long shadow of a familiar figure come to stand a few feet away from my turned back. Gratefully, I accepted the glass of punch from the server and took a small sip of the refreshing beverage, sighing in bliss as the cold liquid slid down my parched throat.

“You came,” Elijah said, the ghost of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth as I turned to face him. His eyes raked my figure in the dress hungrily, flashing dangerously, but I played the hapless ingénue, determined to not fall for his charms, especially now that his fiancée stood at a corner, watching us like a hawk.

“Yes I did. My best friend talked me into it, and I changed my mind.”

I slipped around him when I was done speaking in the hopes that he would not follow after me and put us in an especially uncomfortably situation. Unfortunately, it looked like he hadn’t gotten the memo as he dogged at my heels.

“You are beautiful,” he continued, and I sent him a sly glance, feeling a seed of warmth bloom in me.

“Thanks,” I replied, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

This close to him, I noticed that his tie wasn’t black like I’d thought, but red. In fact, it was the exact same shade of red that was my gown. I blanched, halting abruptly so that Elijah almost came crashing into me.

“Yesterday I said I had something to tell you,” he began, oblivious to the maelstrom of growing panic and confusion the mere thought of his matching tie had wrought in me.

Slowly, Elijah walked until he stood in front of me, and when he opened his mouth the sound of a finger tapping over a mic interrupted, and everyone in the room turned towards the podium, where Inez stood, a portrait of serenity, obviously unmoved by the fact that she was addressing some of the most powerful people in the world.

She offered a greeting, introducing herself to the entire room and getting a round of applause for her troubles, before announcing that the auction was about to start, and that if she’d indicated an interest in anyone to come up then we were to meet her.

I looked to find Elijah had his gaze trained intensely on me and gave him a sardonic smile.

“Guess that’s my cue,” I said, and before he could retort with a quip of his own or demand where it was I was off to, I turned away from him and started to make my way to the podium.