Chapter Twelve #2
I see Kingi a couple of times, but there are always other people around—we meet once at Midnight, for a drink with Orson and Scarlett and a few others, and go for dinner again later in the week to a local vineyard.
Most of the time, we talk about the Foundation.
He’s in the process of putting together a document to present to the board, laying out the organization’s strategy and vision, talking about ideas for fundraising, and ways he can foster the internal culture to ensure the Foundation’s success.
I knew he was smart, but his knowledge, drive, and authority impress me.
I suppose before this I thought his appointment was as a figurehead—he’s a young, handsome, successful, and wealthy Māori guy, a perfect role model for the troubled youths, especially now he’s ‘engaged’.
But I can see I’ve been unfair. He’s a sharp businessman, and he’s bringing more than good looks and a heap of charisma to the table.
He obviously wants to talk about it, and so I let him bounce ideas off me. In return, he listens when I talk about my father’s gardening business and gives me some pointers for things I can do to help make it more stable, which are really useful.
Afterward, though, when I’ve gone home and I’m lying there thinking about the evening, I realize how the two of us have used our work as a shield to deflect the chance of our conversation turning personal.
It’s also served to remind me how we exist in such different worlds.
We’re friends because of a past connection—it’s history that holds us together, and, forgetting about sexual attraction, I know he likes me, too, the way I like him as a person.
But yet again it reminds me we’re not compatible partners.
It’s for the best, I tell myself. But it makes me feel sad.
On Saturday, I wake feeling as if a thunderstorm is looming, then remember it’s the day of the ball. Oh God.
Lisa and Ria think I’m crazy. They don’t understand why I’m not embracing the billionaire lifestyle, and making the most of Kingi’s world, and his money.
It’s hard to describe why I feel so reticent.
Part of it is terror at being found out, and as a result of that, fear at the thought of having to make it convincing, whatever that involves.
The rest of it is just being so uncomfortable around all that money.
Each time I’ve called in at Midnight to see Kingi, I’m consistently shocked at the wealth on display.
The brand-new, flash cars; the clothing and jewelry the customers are wearing; even the food they consume on a daily basis.
Have these guys ever eaten a burger and fries, or do they have caviar for breakfast?
I’m also repeatedly surprised by the attitude of these people.
Their sense of entitlement is shocking. They make demands of the staff without a second thought and rarely say please or thank you.
Even Kingi and Orson have a degree of expectation, although I suppose it’s slightly different for them because they own the club, so they anticipate that their staff will do as they ask.
But it’s just such a different world for me.
I feel as if all these people live on a stage, in the glitter of the spotlights, heavy with theatrical makeup and costumes. And I live in the wings, aware of the pulleys and trapdoors, and the people waiting to give prompts, conscious of how fake everyone looks when they’re not in the limelight.
Unbeknown to Kingi, I haven’t invited anyone to the ball.
Nobody I know could afford it, and even if they could, I don’t think they’d want to come.
My father isn’t well enough, and my mother wouldn’t go without him.
I know Kingi would like to meet Mark again, but I feel uncomfortable about him coming.
He’s behaved oddly since I told him about my engagement to Kingi.
I thought he’d be relieved to know Dad isn’t going to lose his house, and thrilled that all his debt could be paid off.
But he’s been distant and quiet. I’m hoping beyond all hope that he’s not gambling again.
Nina and I talked to him about seeing an addiction counselor, and he agreed it was necessary.
I’ve made it very clear there will be no more money, and that he has to think about the mental health of his family.
But did it sink in? I’m not an addict myself, so I don’t understand how the need to gamble can take over even the wellbeing of his wife, daughter, and close family.
But I don’t want to think about it today. I have other things on my mind.
I work in the morning, but at one p.m. I head home, have a light lunch, and take a shower.
At 2:15 p.m., Ria and Lisa give me a hug and make me promise to tell them all about it later, and then they squeal as they look out of the window and see a black Mercedes-Benz S-Class pull up outside the house.
“Fuck,” Ria says, “who’s that driving? Does he have a chauffeur?”
“Um, yes, it’s his assistant.” I blush as they both squeal again. “Kingi insisted.”
“You’re really like Cinderella,” Lisa says, eyes wide.
“That makes us the ugly sisters,” Ria points out, and we all giggle.
I give them a final hug, then head out to the car. I’ve met Rob, his assistant, before, at Midnight, and when he gets out and opens the door for me, I give him a wry smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Part of the job, ma’am.”
“Oh God, call me Chessie, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I roll my eyes as he grins, get in the car, and he closes the door.
It’s beautiful, sleek and quiet, and the journey to the ferry is smooth and uneventful.
On the ferry, I have a coffee in the cafe and try to read, but I’m too nervous.
My stomach is bubbling with nerves about the event and my outfit.
What if I’ve picked the wrong sort of gown?
Clara insisted it was perfect for the ball, but maybe everyone there will be in big meringue ballgowns, and mine is a much sleeker style. Oh well, it’s too late now.
I’m glad when the ferry pulls in, and that the shop is only a short drive. Rob drops me off outside and promises to pick me up at six, and heads off into the city.
First, I’m having my hair done, so I go into the hairdressers. She gives me a trim and blow dry, then spends the time curling my long tresses so they hang past my shoulders in waves.
Afterward, I go into the beauty spa and meet the beautician. She gives me a manicure and a pedicure, painting my toe and fingernails a shade that will match my dress, and then sets to work on my face.
I’ve never worn much makeup. I can’t afford it, and it seems pointless to worry about it when most of the time I’m on my own and up to my armpits in mud. “I don’t want anything too heavy,” I tell her. “But…” I hesitate and study my fresh face in the mirror, thinking about Kingi.
“But you want to knock his socks off?” she asks brightly. Clara has obviously told her that I’m getting engaged.
I give a short laugh, meeting her eyes. “Kinda.”
She grins. “We’ll stay mainly with earthy tones, but add a few extras because it’s a ball. How about that?”
“It sounds great.” Oh. My. God. What on earth have I got myself into?
*
I arrive at the Midnight Club a few minutes before seven.
Rob pulls up in front of the steps, behind the cars also dropping off their passengers.
I’ve done a lot of gardening work here, so I know the place well, but it looks entirely different at night. The solar lamps that line the drive and steps are all alight, along with hundreds of strings of fairy lights that have turned the place into a stunning blaze of light.
The staff is dressed in black trousers, white shirts, and silver waistcoats to distinguish them from the guests.
And the guests… oh wow. The men all look handsome and wealthy in black tie.
And the women… well, one good thing is that my dress doesn’t look out of place.
A few are wearing dresses in the flouncy ball gown style, but most are a variation on A-Line or sheath, so at least I’m not going to look out of place.
“If you would like to wait a moment,” Rob says, “Mr. Davis asked me to call when we arrived so he can come out and meet you.”
“Oh goodness, no, that’s okay. I don’t need an escort.” I fumble at the door catch.
Rob leaps out to open it for me and watches as I get out. “He won’t like that I haven’t rung him,” he says nervously.
I give him a wry look. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Where am I likely to find him, do you think?”
“He and Mr. Cavendish will be in the lobby, greeting everyone.”
“Thank you, Rob. Have a great evening.”
“And you, ma’am.”
Stuffing the clutch under my arm, I lift the front of my dress a little so I don’t trip over it and climb the short flight of steps to the open front doors of the lobby.
My mouth has gone dry. I’m not cut out for this.
Not the performance, not the setting, and certainly not the people.
I’m a gardener, for God’s sake. Most of the time I work on my own, with my earbuds in, listening to music or audio books, and sometimes I hardly speak to another person all day.
What the hell am I doing here, at a high society event, announcing that I’m engaged to a fucking billionaire?
I take a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly.
I’m here for Kingi. He gave me a hundred thousand dollars in return for making him look respectable, and that’s what I’m going to do.
He purposefully picked me because I’m not from the same background as him.
And although I don’t think he realizes that’s a little insulting, I understand why he did it. I can’t back away now.
Lifting my chin, hoping I don’t pass out because my heart is racing so much, I approach the lobby.
There’s a queue of people out the front, and I join them, holding the clutch with both hands and fighting the desire to turn and run back down the steps.
Gradually the queue moves forward into the lobby, and then I see Kingi and Orson standing there with the other members of the Midnight Circle, shaking hands with everyone as they arrive.
They’re both wearing black suits with crisp white dress shirts, black bow ties, and polished dress shoes. Orson looks as handsome as ever. But it’s Kingi who immediately draws my eye.
Oh holy shit. He’s had a haircut, and he’s clean shaven. I honestly can’t remember the last time I saw him look like this. It was probably when he was about thirteen.
I wait in the queue to approach them, and I’m only a few people away when Orson glances over and sees me. His eyebrows shoot up, and he nudges Kingi and gestures at me.
Kingi looks over, and his gaze falls on me.
He stares.
And then his expression lights up with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
Oh… My heart leaps. That was worth every minute of the effort I’ve put into my appearance.