Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Bex
After staring at the cream invite in my hand, I glance up into clear blue eyes.
Ben’s staring at me with what I think is hope.
My fingers tremble slightly as I hold the invitation.
It feels heavier than it should, like it means something.
This was meant to be a pizza and beer night that changed in an instant, the second he passed me the item in my hand.
“A black-tie event?” I murmur. “I don’t own anything even close to suitable.”
He grins. “I’ll treat you. Have Amy take you shopping. She will love having an event to dress you for.”
I nod. That’s very true. Amy loves shopping, especially when she’s spending someone else’s money. And the fact that the man I’m besotted with is asking her to do it will drive her insane with excitement.
Dropping my focus back to the invitation, I feel my cheeks flush.
I wonder if he knows he has this effect on me.
How easily I unravel under his stare. We’ve spent a lot of time together since Kelsey left, and I wonder if he feels the same.
I remind myself that someone who looks as good as he does would never be interested in me romantically.
We’re friends, like we always have been.
“Okay, I’ll be your plus one,” I say softly, and his face breaks into a huge smile. He pulls me into a hug. Holding me close, it lingers, like he doesn’t want to let go. I like it.
“You’re going to love Melissa,” he calls over his shoulder as he heads off to pick up our pizza. “And she’s going to love you.”
Melissa Riley sounds like an amazing woman. She’s battled cancer for twelve months while setting up a charity supporting women with the disease. This is the first annual ball of The Riley Foundation, and according to Ben, the whole medical community is going to be there.
He’s become extremely close with Eamon and Melissa Riley; they treat him like the son they never had. In return, he has committed a vast amount of time to help Melissa with the charity, becoming her right-hand man in all things Riley Foundation.
I did have a giggle to myself earlier this week when he was worried about the floral decorations for the table centers at the ball. Those are not concerns I ever thought would leave Dr. Benjamin Jones’s mouth.
The ball is being held in a five-star hotel in the city, and over three hundred people are attending. There’s going to be a charity auction and a raffle, never mind the thousands of pounds raised from ticket sales.
Ben handed over his credit card, whispered the pin, and told me to get whatever I wanted.
I had one week to get prepared, and he wanted me to walk into the room feeling a million dollars.
When he said it, his voice dipped, like he wasn’t talking about the dress at all.
I smiled shyly, feeling my heart flutter, then leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
After sending Amy the lowdown of our conversation last night by email and a link to the event next weekend, she appears in my bedroom within ten minutes.
“Right. Hand it over.” I look at her vacantly, and she holds her hand out.
“The card, you dipshit. You’ll never use it properly.
Hand it over now. This needs an expert in charge. ”
I wander over to my bedside table and lift the golden card. It’s shiny with black, scrolled writing on the bottom. Dr. B. Jones. Amy's eyes flick between me and the card like she’s just won the lottery. She pinches it from my fingers with glee.
“Right, you get dressed. We’re leaving in ten minutes,” she declares.
An hour later, we’re at the shopping mall, discussing what type of look I should have on Saturday night.
Amy has been researching the Grand Plaza Hotel, where the ball will be held.
She thinks we should go there later for a drink to test it out.
Once I explained that three drinks would probably cost us a week’s wages, she opted not to.
We’ve decided on a demure but sexy look.
According to Amy, men want their women to look like a lady but act like a vixen, especially in the bedroom.
Seemingly, it’s important to hint at this erotic part of yourself in the way you dress.
A stylist is booked to come to the apartment in the afternoon before the ball to do my hair and makeup.
They accepted Ben’s card, so it’s all good.
I haven’t asked how much it will cost. I don’t want to know.
After browsing the high-end boutiques for what feels like forever, we finally decide to go in. The assistant smiles at us coolly but asks what she can do to help. The way she looks at us tells me she thinks we are most likely looking for directions to the toilets rather than an evening gown.
The shop is filled with expensive dresses, all sparkles and sequins. A mannequin in the center of the room displays a bright pink number adorned with feathers across the skirt. The top is a corset-style, displaying the wearer’s assets to the maximum effect.
Amy’s commanding voice brings me back to the here and now.
“My sister here is attending a charity ball at the Grand Plaza next Saturday, and she requires an evening gown.” She makes this statement and waves her hand around the shop indifferently.
“Do you have anything appropriate?” The shop assistant looks outraged by the apparent insult but composes herself.
“Well, we are the largest supplier of evening wear in the city, madam. I’m sure we will have something suitable.” Amy nods, then gestures to me to take a seat on the sofa.
“Perfect.” She smiles. “Do you want to show us what you think might be suitable? As you can see, Bex is stunning, so we want something to knock everyone else out of the park. She needs to turn heads,” Amy proclaims. “Well, a certain someone’s head, anyway.”
I grimace at her and hiss, “It’s not like that. I told you.”
She laughs but doesn’t respond. The look in her eye tells me all I need to know. She doesn’t believe me; this is so much more.
So far, I’ve tried several dresses, including a pink contraption that felt like wearing a straitjacket. Then there was a white, floaty number that looked as if I was going to walk down the aisle. The final straw was when the assistant brought out a neon-yellow jumpsuit.
“Stop! I don’t want to be noticed for the wrong reasons, and that would make me look like a traffic cone. Don’t you have something a bit more understated?”
Amy huffs. “Boring, you mean.”
I scowl. “Perhaps something in a darker color, and maybe with a slight sparkle?”
The assistant eyes me warily, then stalks off in the direction of the storeroom. Around ten minutes later, she emerges with a long pink dress bag and hangs it from the hook outside the changing room.
As she slowly lowers the zipper, I hold my breath. If this is another jazzy number, I’m giving up. She lifts the dress from the bag, and my jaw drops.
It’s a long navy gown with a hint of sparkle on the waistband and bosom. The assistant’s eyes meet mine, and we both smile.
“Would you like to try this on?” she asks.
“I’d love to,” I reply, and I step forward to take the beautiful creation from her.
The shop has a viewing area like you see on those American wedding dress TV shows.
I’m standing on the raised platform, admiring myself in the mirrors that surround me.
This dress is incredible. It hugs my curves and finishes on the floor.
The material is soft, feeling luxurious against my skin, and the color is a beautiful deep navy with similarly colored crystals detailing the waistband.
The neckline plunges low to my ribcage, lower than I’ve ever dared. I imagine Ben seeing me in this, and my pulse stutters. Short, capped sleeves display my early-summer tan. I feel incredible.
Amy stands speechless as she looks at me. Then, she simply hands over the golden card. For a moment, I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror. But I want to. She’s a woman brave enough to be wanted. Mission accomplished.
Later that day, we are sitting in a fast-food joint, nibbling on burgers as kids run and scream nearby.
“I don’t need sexy underwear.” I grimace, as heat rushes to my cheeks. “No one is going to be seeing it.”
Amy shakes her head. “Are you really that stupid? You can’t see this…” She waves her arms around. “For what it is, Bex?” She shrieks with laughter. Her speech continues as we eat lunch.
“No man, whoever he is, hands over a credit card to a woman he’s not interested in. I can’t believe you would be that dense.”
Glowering, I continue to chew. What she says makes sense, but this is Ben.
I can’t comprehend that he would like me that way.
Even though everything tells me that things have changed.
The way he talks to me, how he looks at me when we meet.
The pulse on my skin when he’s close. He means more to me than just being friends.
Never having owned sexy underwear, the thought that I might sends shivers down my spine. I’m unsure whether it is from excitement or nerves. Probably both.
“What if he checks his credit card statement and sees we’ve been shopping there?” I panic, gesturing toward the lingerie shop across from us.
“Then he will know he’s in for a good night.” Amy giggles. “Oh, Bex, you’re mad about this guy. Accept it and enjoy it. Come on, let’s get shopping.”
We throw our leftovers in the trash, and off we go in the direction of the shop with garters in the window.
***
Saturday finally arrives. I’ve had a full-on week of preparations with Amy.
Ben has been busy between work and arrangements for the ball, but we’ve agreed to meet at seven o’clock, and a taxi is arranged to take us to the hotel.
I woke up this morning full of nerves. I can’t decide what I’m most anxious about. The ball or him.
The hair and makeup artists have worked their magic. My blonde hair is curly and piled up on top of my head, except for two loose curls that drop down the sides of my face. My eye makeup is dark and smokey, highlighting the long lashes that frame my eyes. The pillar-box red lipstick is a statement.
I don’t even look like me. I’m like a star from a 1950’s movie.
Amy’s helping me dress and adding the finishing touches. Eventually, she convinced me to invest Ben’s money in the sexy lace underwear, just in case.
Looking at myself in the mirror as Amy pulls my dress up over my hips, I smile broadly. I look hot. Like someone worth turning heads for. There’s a knock at the door, and Ben asks if he can come in.
“No,” Amy barks. “You have to wait to see the finished article.”
“Alright.” He sighs. “There’s a little something here for you, Bex. I’ll leave it outside the door.”
As his footsteps recede, growing quieter with each step, Amy runs to open the door, grabbing the small pink box off the floor. She quickly passes it to me, but not before pausing as if wanting to open it herself.
“Well, open it,” she orders. I untie the delicate pink ribbon and lift the lid. A pair of earrings sparkle up at me. Amy’s jaw drops, and she looks from the earrings to me.
“He’s buying you diamonds now,” she whispers, and I chuckle.
“They won’t be real,” I murmur and roll my eyes. “It’s just a small thank you for going with him tonight.” She looks at me pointedly.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she says, then drops the subject.
With fifteen minutes to go, I’m ready to leave.
Entering the living room, I walk cautiously in my super-high heels.
Ben is standing by the door in his tuxedo, looking incredibly handsome.
My heart skips a beat. His bright-blue eyes roll over my body, and his expression changes. Surprise, maybe. Definitely awe.
He steps forward and takes my hands in his. “You look incredible, Bex.”
He bends slightly to kiss my cheek. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
With his hand on the base of my spine, he leads me out of the front door to a night I know I won’t forget.