31. Chapter 31
Chapter 31
T he night of the auction unfurled with a whirlwind of glitter and glamour; the paparazzi snapping photos of all who entered the event.
Sophie had brought Poppie as her plus one. Thanks to Naked Runway’s Glam Team, the two of them were holding their own in the elite setting.
Sophie radiated starlit grace in a midnight blue gown that cascaded down her frame; its fabric, which caught the light with her every movement, was sprinkled with crystals that mimicked a clear night sky. Her hair was swept up in an elegant twist, and delicate diamond earrings—her mom’s—peeked through to add just the right touch of sophistication.
Poppie, ever the dapper counterpart, was decked out in a tailored charcoal suit that complemented Sophie’s look perfectly. His tie matched the deep blue of her dress, and his smile was as bright as the polished cufflinks at his wrist. Instead of his walker, he sported a posh cane.
The moment they had arrived, Poppie had been whisked away by Ms. Birdie. The dear had someone he simply must meet that instant.
Sophie made her way backstage to check on her book boyfriends.
Isabella stopped her before she got a peek behind the curtain. “Sorry, darling. No one who isn’t walking the stage is allowed to enter.”
“Oh, but I wanted to check on my guys,” Sophie said.
“They’re fine.” Isabella paused to make a note on the clipboard she held. “Go have fun. Rub elbows with Manhattan’s wealthiest.”
“If you insist.” Sophie turned and made her way toward the sea of haute couture. Never had she ever walked among so much awesomeness. The gowns, the shoes, the hair, the makeup, the purses, the men. It was the perfect opportunity to make connections for her next adventure…whatever that turned out to be.
“For a professional daydreamer, you clean up quite nicely,” drawled an all-too-familiar voice, causing her pulse to quicken and her breath to catch.
She slowly turned and laid eyes on Stone—the epitome of suave—clad in a tuxedo that hugged his frame with the kind of precision that could only be referred to as sinful. Or, as Sophie had read in a book recently, it hugged his frame like a dirty dream.
“I didn’t expect to see you tonight,” she said.
“You look breathtaking.”
The memory of their last encounter—the night she’d thought he’d lost all control and broken a golden rule for her but hadn’t, the night he reminded her he was a bachelor forever—made its way to the surface, and her smile vanished. “Why are you here?”
He pointed to his earpiece, a sleek black curve against his chiseled jaw. “I’m on duty. Ms. Birdie insisted on heightened security. Seems she expects the excitement to notch up to the rowdy side tonight…thanks to you and one of your brilliant ideas.”
Then again, why should she spend even one minute of tonight upset? There’d be time tomorrow, and all the tomorrows to follow, for her to recall she didn’t much care for Stone anymore. Tonight was for happiness. She let her smile return, and a laugh bubbled up from her throat as her eyes took in the eclectic mix of guests. “That’s the hope.”
Ms. Birdie had described the guest list as a fresh, vibrant crop of potential donors, almost vampiric in their youthful zest for new experiences.
Amid the glittering crowd, Sophie had already spotted at least five highly powerful influencers. The air around them crackled with the electric anticipation of the night’s bidding frenzy.
“Would you like to grab a drink after this all wraps up?” Stone asked, snapping her back to the present.
The proposition tempted her, momentarily drawing her thoughts away from the bustling crowd. She glanced at Poppie, her steadfast date, who was currently engrossed in conversation with an elegantly dressed elderly woman. The socialite’s white-gloved hand rested gently on Poppie’s arm, and he looked utterly charmed. “I can’t,” Sophie replied. “It would be unseemly to ditch my date for a man who’s already ditched me once, don’t you agree?”
Stone’s response was a stiff nod. “Fair enough.” He turned and melted back into the crowd of partygoers.
Sophie sighed. “You could have at least tried to change my mind,” she muttered. Needing a moment to regroup, she made her way to the silent auction, where it wouldn’t be so crowded. Much to her delight, Ms. Birdie had insisted on adding a note to Sophie’s T-shirt table informing bidders that their donation would go to charity, and Ms. Birdie would give a matching amount to the upcoming entrepreneur who’d designed the shirts—Sophie E. Clark.
Sophie had resisted the offer, but Ms. Birdie had insisted, saying it was the least she could do for the person who’d caused ticket sales for the annual charity auction to sell out in record time.
“Darling, there you are,” Ms. Birdie said, materializing beside Sophie with her usual flair. “Have you taken a peek at any of the bids on your lovely contributions?”
“Not yet. I can’t imagine they’ll be all that popular, but it’s wonderful exposure.” Sophie let her gaze drift over the items—or in some cases, small replicas of the actual item—displayed on row after row of tables. Ms. Birdie had managed to get trips, boats, jewelry, cars, and so much more donated for her silent auction. “Hopefully, I’ll get a few sales down the road.”
Ms. Birdie harrumphed. “Nice had nothing to do with it. I believe in rewarding those who bring me good fortune. Now, go and look. I do believe you’ll be pleasantly surprised—you might even decide you can afford to bid on one of your book boyfriends after all.”
“That would allow me to return some of your generosity back to your charity,” Sophie mused. “Not that I believe any of the men will go for an amount equivalent to whatever nice bid someone made on my behalf.”
“And that’s why you deserve all the happiness the world has to offer,” Ms. Birdie declared. “You have a good heart. And darling, just know, if you see a bid, it’s not a mistake.” With that comment, Ms. Birdie linked arms with a dashing gentleman. “I do believe I know just the item you should bid on this evening,” she whispered to him, guiding him toward a table laden with jewelry.