Chapter 32
Amelia
I’m languid and relaxed after we’re done and slowly put myself back together as Crawford does the same.
I fix my skirt as his cell begins to vibrate on the desk. I’m running my fingers through my hair as he answers it.
“Hey Amber,” he says, and his tone is businesslike. “How are you doing?”
I walk over to the other side of the room so as not to eavesdrop. I spend a few minutes making sure I look presentable, examining every inch of my outfit.
I button up my jacket and turn back to him just as he drops his phone on his desk, looking pissed.
“Amber can’t make it tonight, family emergency apparently. Shit.” He sits down, running his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. I hover, unsure whether he wants me to leave or not.
He starts scrolling through his contacts, and my heart begins to thud as I imagine him calling Megan up and asking her to go with him just to save face.
“There’s no one else I can ask who isn’t a complete bore,” he says, his frown deepening with every swipe of his thumb. “The last woman I took to one of these things talked nonstop and made me look like an idiot.”
His eyes swivel in my direction. He nods his head, as if agreeing with a silent conversation with himself.
“You’ll come with me,” he states matter-of-factly, and I stare at him in bewilderment.
“What?”
“I don’t have time to find another date, and you know a lot of the guests already from your work with us. You can simply be on my arm. Most people don’t know you as my EA, and Barnes isn’t going to be there because he’s on vacation.”
My fists clench at the audacity of the man. His assumption that I’m free, although correct, is galling. Clearly, he thinks I just wait around all day to follow his orders.
“I can’t come with you as your date,” I say firmly, walking back toward his desk.
“Why not?” he asks without even glancing at me; it’s beyond dismissive.
“Because people will talk.”
“No one at the gala will care.”
“People in the office will care, Mr. Crawford,” I say firmly. “How will you explain it to them?”
“Why are we back to 'Mr. Crawford’ again? I told you to call me Lucas. And besides, I don’t need to explain it to them; I’m the boss. My date had to cancel and I need—”
“Some pretty, empty-headed blonde on your arm to make you look good?” I snap.
Crawford finally looks away from his phone; his expression almost comical, wide-eyed, and shocked as he stares up at me in amazement.
He rises and puts his hands in his pockets, glaring down at me. “Did I say you were empty-headed?” he asks.
I purse my lips. “Not exactly—”
“In fact, I didn’t say anything about that.
You’re smart, you remember people’s names, and you know when to keep your mouth shut.
This has nothing to do with you being blonde or a woman, for that matter.
I could invite a guy to accompany me tonight, and I would still need him to be quiet.
This gala presents an excellent opportunity to network.
I’m there to shmooze people. I asked you because there are zero expectations between you and me.
You know what I need from you and vice versa. ”
He cocks his head at me, glancing over at the window. “Although, I won’t lie, getting a chance to look at you in the dress I’m gonna send over for you to wear does fill me with a certain amount of anticipation. Your ass is incredible. So sue me.”
That last comment startles a laugh out of me, and his shoulders relax as he comes around the desk.
“I’ll pick you up at eight. Melvin has your address. It’s black tie. I’ll send jewelry, too.”
A knot forms between my shoulder blades at the thought of Crawford seeing my crappy house. I want to refuse. This is crazy, he can’t just take me to the gala without people talking behind our backs—won’t everyone think there’s more between us?
“Please, Amelia. I asked you because I trust you. You’re not going to make a fool of me, and I’ll return the favor.”
I sigh as his hands brush gently down my arms. I know he’s playing me, but those dark brown eyes are intoxicating, and as I nod my head, he hits me with that glorious smile I’m getting addicted to.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of phone calls from different attendees. Beatrice asks me to handle the caterers and several other minor tasks that she’s in charge of.
Kaitlin and Julia are running around in a frenzy all day, and I barely have time to think about what the evening will mean until I leave the office just after five.
Crawford has been gone since 3 p.m., heading to the venue to ensure everything is in order. I expect Beatrice to be with him, so I’m surprised to see her waiting for the elevator as I head out of the building.
She’s in a cute pin-striped dress and glances at me as I come to stand beside her, but says nothing.
We step into the elevator, and I’m instantly transported back to my first day on the job, dressed in my mother’s horrible suit, her judgment heavy in the air. It feels just the same now, and I can’t figure out why until she makes a little scoffing sound.
“Pretty good perk, wouldn’t you say?” she mutters bitterly.
“I’m sorry?”
“I mean, I’m not an idiot, I knew as soon as you joined that you were spreading your legs for him. But wow. The gala as his date. You must be thrilled.”
Blood rushes to my cheeks. The comment completely blindsides me. Over the past few weeks, I had wondered whether Beatrice might have guessed what I was doing with Crawford, or even if she might have heard us, but discovering she had known the truth all along stings.
She turns around, her blue eyes fixing on mine in a new way. I feel about four inches tall, degraded, and ashamed.
“At least I know who to come to if I need him to approve something for me. You can probably get him to agree to most things while you’re on your knees, right?”
She sneers at me as the elevator dings, and she stalks out through the lobby and away toward the street.
I’ve never felt so dirty in my life.
“What a fucking bitch.”
If Hope knew where Beatrice lived, I’m pretty sure she would go there and put a knife in her tires. Maybe even in her.
“If that had been me, I would have punched her right in her smug little face. Fuck me, I will find out who she is, come to your office and smear shit on her desk, and you know I would!”
I attempt a smile, but the despair and shame from the conversation with Beatrice are still haunting me.
It didn’t help that I arrived at my house to find a box waiting for me from Crawford. It’s a beautiful, bright red gown, but it’s the wrong size.
I’m sitting on my bed, fighting tears, wearing a dress that doesn’t cover my breasts, with two hours to go until I have to leave.
“Look, if I leave work right now, I can come over,” Hope continues. “I have some beautiful clothes. Probably not the level of designer that those gala women will be wearing, but you could look like a million dollars in a trash bag, Amelia.”
I wipe at my eyes, shaking my head. “You can’t miss your shift for me, babe. Your boss is an asshole. I’m gonna get into a different bra and try and twist myself into this thing. It’ll be okay.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t even find out your size. Men are so useless.”
I was surprised by that, too. I had hoped that he would ask Eleanora to send something over.
She, at least, knows what fits me. But he’s sent over the gown from a designer store I’d never heard of, and with the generic sizing, I always have trouble fitting my breasts into anything my ‘official’ size.
I’ve tried calling him, but he’s knee deep in gala prep and probably won’t be free until it’s too late. I wipe my cheeks, sitting up as there’s a gentle knock at my bedroom door.
“I should go,” I say quickly to Hope. “I love you. Sorry for ranting.”
“If you need me to come kill that Beatrice bitch, you say the word, okay?” Hope says, her voice lowering to a discreet murmur.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, you hear me? Don’t let her make you feel like you’ve done something wrong for earning a goddamn living.
Fuck that fucker. I love you. Go wow them all. ”
“I’ll let you know how it goes.”
I hang up and turn to my bedroom door as it opens. Annabelle pokes her head round with a tentative smile that drops almost instantly.
“Oh my God, Mia, what’s wrong?” she asks, stepping into the room.
“It’s okay,” I breathe. “I just… I can’t get into this dress, and it’s all I have to wear.”
Annabelle smiles. “That’s what I came to tell you. I think you might have a guardian angel downstairs.”
I stare at her, rising from the bed and slipping out of the ill-fitting gown, pulling on my robe as I make my way downstairs. I’m praying that it isn’t Crawford. I tidied the house when I got home, but I still don’t want him to see it.
I get to the bottom of the stairs and stop dead in my tracks, staring at Kaitlin, who is standing in my living room with several garment bags over her arm.
“Hi,” she says with a tentative smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just showed up here.”
I step forward, as Annabelle almost collides with me as she follows me down the stairs. “What are you doing here?” I ask Kaitin in amazement.
Kaitlin shrugs. “Look, I heard that you’re going to this gala. I mean, I couldn’t not hear about it with Beatrice bitching all afternoon.”
The expression on my face must tell her everything she needs to know because Kaitlin rolls her eyes.
“Yeah. I’m not getting into that, but I eventually told her to shut up. It’s not like you could have said no to him, anyway. I saw the email from the courier with the invoice for the dress he bought. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to fit.”
I huff out a laugh as Kaitlin holds out the bags she’s brought. “I have a bunch of clothes that my sister gave me. She’s a photographer and has designer shoots all the time. She always gives me anything the studios don’t want. I have a bunch of dresses, and I thought you might like to try them on.”
I hold back the urge to rush across the room and hug her. All the anxiety I had brewing inside me fades away as she holds up one of the bags. The simple black gown inside is truly stunning.
“Wanna try some on?”
“Yes!” Annabelle responds for me, settling on the couch as I glare at her. “You can do a fashion show for me!”
“This is my sister, Annabelle,” I say, glaring at her. I then glance around at the house. “Sorry about the state of this place… I’m—”
“Oh my God, you should see the mess my little boy leaves in his wake. Believe me, I’ve seen worse.”
She hands me the dress with a big grin on her face, and I finally feel the shame recede into nothing.
“Let’s try this one first. It’s one of my favorites and I think you’ll look amazing in it.”