32. Vaughn
THIRTY-TWO
VAUGHN
The day of the gala dawned with bad news.
The subcontractor who had walked off the Midtown job was countersuing us, and the latest email from the legal team informed me that they might actually have a case.
I was looking at a major loss—and I knew that Arlo Noble would find out about it sooner or later.
His team had trawled through our books; they weren’t going to miss this.
But I still had a shot. Noble’s charity event would be my opportunity to speak to him, to impress upon him that my business was sound despite this hiccup. With his investment, we could go far. The pressure was mounting, but I couldn’t let it get to me.
All my doubts had settled after I’d claimed Alba for my own. She was mine, and I could forge onward with my plans. An investor meant access to the true power brokers of the city. It meant securing my future, my daughter’s future. It meant success—success that had eluded my father.
My townhome was quiet without Charlotte, who had gone back to her mother’s the day before. I haunted the rooms, spending most of my day in the home office, sorting through legalese.
Then it was time to get ready and go get my date. Soon, we’d walk into the gala, and I’d leave my mark. I’d have my investor, I’d be a success, and Alba would stay by my side through it all.
Or…
Alba would use me as a stepping stone to go back to the world she knew. I would make a fool of myself. My life would come full circle, and I’d lose the investor, crash my company, and end up as much of a failure as my father had been.
The doubts rattled around my head all afternoon and evening, and only fading away when Alba’s building’s front door opened and I saw her step out onto the street.
She was a vision in lavender. The dress twinkled under the streetlights, dancing around her legs as she approached.
She’d draped a shawl over her shoulders, and her hair was curled in big waves that fell, gleaming and golden, behind her shoulders.
My mouth went dry as she approached, a soft smile on her glossy lips.
“You look—” I shook my head. “Wow.”
Her smile widened. “Thank you, Vaughn.” She lifted her hands to touch my cheeks, then pressed a kiss on my lips. Her thumb wiped away the gloss that had transferred to me, and then we spun toward the waiting vehicle behind me. My driver stood beside the back door, ready to close it once we entered.
Alba arranged her dress on the seat and clipped herself in, giving me a raised eyebrow look as I watched, as if to tell me that there would be no hanky-panky on the way to this event.
I settled in beside her and took her hand. My palms were clammy, and it wasn’t just because I was beside the most beautiful woman I’d ever met. As the car slid out into traffic, I took a deep breath.
I had the woman of my dreams on my arm. All I needed to do to achieve everything I ever dreamed of was avoid making a fool of myself at this gala, bag the big investor, and let riches rain down on me.
But Charlotte’s smile flashed through my mind, and I wondered if I was making a big mistake.
She was supposed to be my why , my reason for doing all this…
but I’d shunted her off to her mother while I worked.
Just like I had all through my marriage.
Then I glanced over at Alba and watched her transform into that cool, aloof woman who had walked into restaurants with me and taught me how to hold a wine glass.
Fear struck deep in my gut. What was I doing ?
The woman beside me—did I really know her? Was she the ice queen born into privilege, or was she the warm, snarky woman I’d come to know? Would she use me to launch herself back into the society she’d fallen out of?
Maybe she was just like my father—always chasing something better. Maybe I was just like my father—lying to myself about what really mattered for the sake of a few extra bucks.
The seams of my new shirt itched my sides. My shiny black shoes were stiff and uncomfortable. The white tie at my neck felt like a noose.
“You okay?” Alba asked, squeezing my hand.
I gulped, feeling the pressure of my necktie against the front of my throat. “I’m good,” I said. “Just a little nervous about making a fool of myself.”
It was a half-truth. I was almost sure I’d make a fool of myself somehow.
What I was actually worried about was that I’d blindly followed this path, thinking I wanted a cashed-up investor, thinking I wanted to grow the business to new heights, that I was a good father for providing…
but I was actually barreling toward destruction.
I was acting just like my own father. I liked having a barber make house calls.
I loved my beautiful home. I enjoyed being able to wine and dine a woman like Alba, to buy her a one- of-a-kind dress and pretend I didn’t know how special it was.
I relished the ability to snap my fingers and make all her problems go away, even though I pretended not to.
I was as fake as my father had been, and tonight was proof.
And if I was as fake as he had been—how could anyone else be any different? How could I trust Alba to stand by my side? Why had she agreed to come here with me in the first place, if not to get a foot back in the door that had been closed to her just a few short weeks ago?
“Vaughn,” Alba said, squeezing my palm. “You’ll be fine.”
She was so beautiful. Her makeup was perfect, subtle but enhancing. Her hair looked shiny and soft. Her shoulders were bare, as was her neck, but earrings dangled from her lobes. She looked like she’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine and for some reason decided to slum it with me.
“The fact that you bought tickets to his gala is all that matters,” she continued. “Arlo Noble is one of the good ones.”
“Oh?”
She smiled. “I’ll put it this way: he wouldn’t destroy his daughter’s vegetable garden for the sake of an anniversary party.”
I nodded.
“It’s a formality. We’ll go in, have dinner, dance a little. You’ll go up to him and tell him that you’re looking forward to working together, and then we can leave.”
“That’s all, huh,” I said, leaning against the headrest and glancing out the window. We were getting closer to the venue.
“That’s all,” she confirmed. “You’ve done the hard work. This is just the final hurdle.”
I wanted to believe her. I wanted it to be true.
After tonight, Arlo Noble would inject the business with cash, and the Midtown job’s problems would seem like little tiny bug bites instead of gaping wounds.
Charlotte would still be with me every two weeks.
Alba would be by my side. Everything would work out perfectly.
And yet, when the car slid to a stop and our driver opened the door, I watched Alba take a deep breath and don another persona, and I couldn’t help the discomfort that slithered through me.
If I continued to move in these circles, would I get used to slipping into a new role?
Would I dismiss the fakeness of it as formality?
Would I enjoy the glitz and glamour a little too much?
I got out of the car and turned to extend my hand to Alba as she exited behind me.
“Here we go,” Alba said, straightening. Her chin lifted. Her shoulders rolled back. Her eyes went flinty.
The Alba I knew—the Alba I’d fallen in love with—was gone.