Chapter 34
Amelia
Istand in the center of the bustling room staring after Crawford in dismay. Realistically, I knew that he wouldn’t be able to be with me all night, but I thought he’d at least get me set up with a drink before deserting me.
I glance around, noting several stares from the room. Some seem curious, others quickly look away, and a few of the women look me up and down as if I’m wearing the trash bag Hope joked about.
Sticking out my chin, I tuck my clutch under my arm and walk toward the bar, head held high.
When I left my house, I felt like a million dollars, Annabelle and Kaitlin’s words of praise ringing in my ears. Now I’m frantically wondering which designer made this dress and if everyone in the room can see right through me. I’m nowhere near as glamorous as the other women in the room.
I glance desperately around the space, hoping I’ll recognize someone. Even Beatrice would be a familiar face, but there’s no one.
I reach the bar. The bartender is very tall, with cornrows tied in a bundle at the nape of his neck. He has long, slender fingers and is mixing drinks with precision and grace.
“What can I get you, ma’am?” he asks me politely as he places the final cocktail on a tray beside him, and a petite brunette waitress whisks them away.
“Uh, just a prosecco, please.”
“We only have champagne,” he says, and I note the judgment in his tone.
“Sure.”
He pours the drink and hands me the glass as I pass him my credit card. He looks at it with a frown, then a little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s a free bar, ma’am,” he says and glances at the other bartender. They exchange a look that makes my insides shrivel to nothing, and I put my card away, shoving it into my bag so hard it slides beneath my nail, making me wince.
Jesus, I do not belong here.
“Vodka martini, extra dirty,” a voice barks from behind me, and then long, red nails slide over the bar as a woman comes to stand beside me.
The scent of her is intoxicating, and her long, glossy hair falls in effortless curls down her back. She’s wearing a maroon dress that complements her lipstick perfectly.
“So you’re the latest Barbie doll,” she says, and I see the bartender glance up at me as he mixes her drink.
“I’m sorry?” I say, even though I heard her just fine.
“Lucas was supposed to bring Amber Collins tonight. What happened?”
I turn toward my new companion. She’s tall, elegant, and effortlessly rich.
I glance around for Crawford, but he’s still with Maxwell by the door. My eyes run over his gorgeous body as he throws his head back and laughs loudly at something the other man says.
He fits so well here, a central cog in this huge well-oiled machine. Meanwhile, I feel like a fork in the gears about to be flicked unceremoniously into the trash.
“I’m Amelia,” I say, attempting to sound confident, but it comes out more like a whisper.
“Amelia what?”
“Brooks.”
“Well, Miss Amelia Brooks, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The bartender places her drink down beside her with a little more force than necessary. He tops off my champagne and steps back.
“And you are?” I ask, and her eyes flash.
“The fact that you don’t know who I am is really the most telling thing about you. I’m Megan Trebeck, and I know Lucas better than anyone.”
“Oh yes, you left him for his cousin, right?” I reply blithely, leaning my forearm lightly against the bar.
There’s a soft huff of laughter from the bartender, and he quickly turns away from us, rearranging some bottles on the shelf as Megan’s eyes narrow.
“Sinclair Kellerman. Do you know who he is?”
“Yes,” I lie. “He’s Mr. Crawford’s cousin.”
Megan gives a little trilling laugh. “What a sweet little bimbo he’s caught for himself.
Sinclair’s the wealthiest man in New York, and I’m his fiancée.
” She holds up her ridiculously large engagement ring for my inspection while her eyes linger on my neck, dropping down to my shoes and back up again.
“Killer dress by the way. It’s a shame you make it look second-hand. ”
I stare at her, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass as my mouth falls open. I can hold my own in most situations, but I’m totally unprepared here.
“My goodness,” comes a silken voice from behind me, and my heart swells as Ambrose saunters up to us, standing close to me, his eyes fixed on Megan. “My English must be failing me, Megan. I thought I heard you say this lady looks second-hand, instead of better than every other woman in the room?”
My eyes ping pong between them. Megan’s claw-like nails slide over her neck as she scratches at her skin, her eyes narrowing at Ambrose, body language suddenly awkward and stiff.
She laughs, the sound bursting out of her as if forced between gritted teeth.
“Oh, I see,” she says, her eyes meeting mine as if she’s seeing me for the first time. “Same arrangement, different girl, is that it? He does tend to get bored easily.”
I remain silent, ice rushing through my veins as I realize her meaning.
Ambrose used to watch Lucas and Megan fuck.
It seems so obvious now that she’s standing in front of me. I think back to that night as a weight drops into my stomach. Now that I focus on the details, it felt as if they were going through the motions.
They’d done it before. Maybe many times. Why did I ever think I was special?
I feel faintly sick.
“I’m surprised you’d lower yourself, Ambrose,” she continues coldly. “You were always so particular in your tastes.”
Ambrose’s expression doesn’t change, but he moves half an inch closer to me.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, darling. If by ‘taste’ you mean that I judge a person’s worth by their actions, their generosity, and their kindness, then you have me pegged. Where is Sinclair, by the way? I haven’t seen him in such a long time.”
“Oh, he’s off making his millions,” Megan retorts.
“Well, I shall be sure to look out for him,” Ambrose says evenly. “Lovely to see you, as ever, Megan. We really mustn’t leave it so long next time—fifty years or so should be sufficient.”
She doesn’t even dignify that with a response, muttering under her breath and spinning around, clicking away over the highly polished floor and back to a group of men who all greet her with charming smiles.
As soon as she’s gone, Ambrose comes to stand in front of me, leaning one elbow on the bar, his irritated expression fading into a genuine smile.
“You look quite breathtaking,” he murmurs as the bartender hands him a drink without Ambrose even having to order it. Ambrose winks at him, and the bartender winks back.
“I am sorry,” Ambrose says as I stand there trying to process what just happened. “I should not have interfered, perhaps, but I won’t stand by and watch her insult you.”
I glance around the room, my insecurities bubbling up.
“She has a point. I’m not like these women.”
“That is entirely to your benefit, my darling,” Ambrose says warmly. “You are worth a thousand of them all put together. Believe me.”
I smile sadly at him. “You don’t really know me,” I murmur as I sip my champagne.
“I know enough. And I have seen how you are with Luca. It is a rare gift to be able to put him at ease the way you do.”
I look at him, his dark eyes questioning as I bite my lip, unsure whether to ask the question burning in my mind.
“I will not lie to you if you ask me,” he says carefully.
“Did you do what we did with her? You and Luc—Mr. Crawford?” I ask, the weight in my chest growing heavier as he nods slowly.
“We did, Amelia. Sì. But I must tell you, the time I spent with you and Luca was superior to any prior experience with anyone. I do not placate you. It is the truth. There is a bright heat between you. A spark, shall we say. And despite their engagement and their history, they never had that.”
He shakes his head, as if throwing away the comment, but the idea of it is intoxicating. I so want to believe him.
But if it’s true, where does that leave us? It’s not as if Crawford will ever see me as anything but an escort.
“Now, my angel, I have many people who have been asking about the vision who arrived with our host. I would greatly like to introduce you to them all. I will ensure they know how perfectly you fit in here, for you do. Trust me on this.”
He holds out his arm, and I smile, clutching my champagne like a lifeline as we make our way through the room.
Crawford may have abandoned me, but I have never been so happy to have a friend beside me as I am now.