Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
AVOIDING DAMON BECAME the challenge of the week.
Wasn’t always easy but was worth the effort.
During business hours, she worked away from the office.
Choosing to conduct meetings at clients’ offices and scouting possible locations for events, she swerved the Scott Solutions complex at every opportunity.
Her father had been called away on business mid-week. Having nothing better to do, her mother went with him. Normally fewer people in the house meant less noise, more space was a good thing.
Problem was, without her parents around, Harper was the single gooseberry watching two couples have a pleasant double-date night after night.
Though she’d pick being a gooseberry with two couples over Adara and Carnell eating out or at Carnell’s apartment.
By sticking around, the engaged couple did her a favor.
Imagine being alone with Damon and Charissa. Yeah, gave her the shivers too.
Damon spent most of the week scowling and snapping at a meeker-than-usual Charissa. So much so, she felt sorry for the woman. That was saying something.
With the house being nothing but tension, the decision to go to the ball had been a breeze.
She needed to get out.
Away from this house.
The event would be as much of a reprieve for her as she hoped it would be for Bastian. Grabbing her clutch, she stuck her feet into the delicate grape-colored sling-backs that went with her strapless silk dress. With its slit from ankle to high on her thigh, this dress was one of her favorites.
Spritzing perfume on her neck and wrists before leaving the bedroom, she hurried down the stairs. The cab was likely outside already.
Her path to the front door was blocked. Damn, she’d hoped to make a clean getaway.
“That dress… for dinner?” Charissa asked from the bottom of the stairs where she stood with Damon.
“I’m going out,” Harper said, checking her purse for her keys, card, and invitation.
Damon side-stepped, getting between the women. “With him?”
His dislike of Bastian made zero sense.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Harper said. “But, yes, Bastian will be there.”
According to Carolyn anyway.
“He’s not picking you up?” Damon scoffed, glancing at Charissa as if seeking support for his judgment.
“Are you that desperate to see him again?” Harper asked, pleased to have the unexpected opportunity to mock her ex. “I can give you his number, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
A knock at the door interrupted. Damn, and she was enjoying that. Had the cab driver come to hurry her? Had she been that long? The guy must have the meter on, what did he care if she took all night?
Charissa was the one to go open the door. Her hand dropped from the handle as the door swung to a stop. She couldn’t see around it, just watched as Charissa’s jaw loosened.
“Good evening,” a male voice, who…?
It wasn’t Bastian, maybe the caller wasn’t for her at all.
“Char?” Damon said, going to grab the door and open it wider.
“Is Harper ready?”
Harper? It was for her and… her own chin swung south. This was not—he was not.
“Zairn Lomond,” Damon said, disbelief bleeding the words from his breath. “You’re…”
The guy, yes, Zairn Lomond, who ignored those in front of him to raise a smile for her.
“Are you ready?”
How did he…? How did they…?
She did nod, she knew because her hair brushed her cheek, not because she could consciously control her actions… Zairn Lomond.
Purse still in hand, she drifted down the last stair and across to be swept out the door by Lomond, his arm curving behind her in a swoop that never actually made contact.
The waiting car was no regular cab. But the guy was wearing a tux—and a billionaire—what did she expect? The man standing by the limo opened the door as they approached. Zairn gestured for her to get in first.
It didn’t occur to her not to slip inside. It didn’t even occur to her that this guy was a complete stranger. Funny how celebrity could grant such familiarity between people who’d never otherwise met.
Helped that Roxie was inside. “Honey!” the hostess exclaimed, patting the seat next to her. “Come sit. Champagne?”
Zairn sat alone on the backseat while Roxie put a flute of champagne in her hand.
“Thank you.”
“See, I knew she’d be ready,” Roxie said to the man opposite them. “A woman knows.”
“You never know when Toria’s going to be ready,” Zairn muttered, retrieving a phone from his inner pocket.
“No one knows when Toria will be ready, Toria included.”
She swallowed. The delicate glass between her fingertips gave her something to look at. The little bubbles, slight foam—
“Would you prefer something else?”
It took her a second, Roxie to Zairn, Roxie—Zairn was talking to her.
“Something else?”
“To drink,” he said.
“Yeah, we can stop at the club,” Roxie said. “Zairn’ll mix anything.”
“Oh no, I…” Crimson, they were talking about their nightclub. “Thank you, I—”
“We don’t have to stop at the club,” Zairn said. “Don’t overwhelm the woman.”
“She’s not overwhelmed. We’re not overwhelming.”
“You’re overwhelming.”
“Me?” Roxie asked with a cluck of exhaled outrage. “What have I told you about looking the way you do around women? And men? Everyone in fact. Weren’t you going to do something about that, husband?”
Though it sounded like Roxie was chastising him, his eyes slunk up over the top of his phone. One corner of his mouth curled in feral amusement.
“Been busy the last few days, wife.”
“Sex is no excuse. That’s your marital duty,” Roxie said, opening the fridge to whip out a bottle. “I can mix Gin and It.”
Zairn tucked his phone away to then outstretch the empty hand. “Give it to me.”
Maybe that had been Roxie’s plan all along. Decidedly the cat that got the cream, Roxie arched across her to put the bottle in her husband’s hand, pushing her shoulders back to accentuate the cleavage revealed by her dress.
“It’s fine,” Harper said, though Zairn took the bottle and Roxie righted herself. “I don’t need a drink.”
“Yes, you do,” Roxie said, putting the champagne aside and linking their hands. “These parties are always filled with sycophants and brownnosers.”
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“Mix, man,” Roxie said to her guy. “Protect and provide.”
“Yes, dear.”
“You look great.” Roxie’s focus came back. “The dress is just right. Beautiful. I love it.”
That was at least something. “Thank you. I like yours too.”
“Thank you. Good, now that’s out the way, let’s get down to it.”
“It?”
“Carolyn is a wonderful woman,” Roxie said. “Just not always the most perceptive.”
“You have a nose for it,” Zairn muttered, doing his thing.
“I have a nose for it,” Roxie repeated.
“I don’t understand what—”
“Have you talked to Bastian since our lunch?” Uh… “That look on your face right now. That’s it right there.”
“It?”
“You’ve never had sex with him, have you?” Roxie tossed in that grenade like it was no big deal. “Are you even dating him? If you were dating him, he’d have beat us to the punch. Why isn’t he picking you up?”
Screwing on a bottle cap, Zairn exhaled. “I should’ve known…”
“You should’ve known, husband, yes.”
“This is one of your capers.”
“It’s not a caper. You picked up a beautiful woman from her house, what’s so wrong with that? Are you hard-done-by?”
“You said I’d never pick up another woman.”
“Different context and you’re welcome,” Roxie said. “There you are, marriage hasn’t taken it from you after all, stud.”
Okay, she was a little adrift. “I don’t understand what—”
“Don’t worry about it, we’re here to see you through,” Roxie said. “Just think of us as your guardian angels.” It wouldn’t be so bad to have those. “You have to excuse Carolyn, she can be pushy—”
“She can be pushy?” Zairn scoffed. “You’ve got a goddamn Olympic medal in that sport, Lola. Top of the podium.”
Roxie ignored him. “Her children mean the whole world to her. And if Carolyn’s pushing you for Bastian, you’ve made a good impression. Are you into him?”
“I don’t know what—this is all happening fast.”
“Okay,” Roxie said, squeezing her hand. “Take it slow. Tell me what happened. Step by step.”
“I shouldn’t—Bastian—I shouldn’t… I haven’t talked to him about discussing this. Did you tell Carolyn?”
“No! Your secrets are safe with me,” Roxie insisted. Harper glanced back at Zairn capping the cocktail shaker. “Don’t worry about him. He knows better than to repeat anything he hears in our bed.” And that was… they weren’t in bed. “You can trust us.”
Maybe she could, maybe she shouldn’t. Though letting out some of the insanity rather than caging it all might help guard against screwing this up.
“It was my sister’s engagement party…”
For the next hour or so, she told the story of just how she and Bastian ended up in the mess. She talked about Damon and Charissa, the mugging, her wish to extricate herself without hurting good people.
“Bastian was doing me a favor and now… I don’t want his mom to be upset when she finds out it’s not what she thinks it is.”
“Yeah, ‘cause she thinks you’re fuck buddies.”
“Strong foundation for any marriage,” Zairn said, still on his phone as he had been for most of the trip, in between mixing them cocktails.
“They’re not getting married,” Roxie said. “You have marriage on the brain.”
Zairn explained. “If Carolyn’s trying to maneuver them together, she sees a future.”
Could Carolyn see a future for her and Bastian’s relationship? That made things all the more dicey.
“He was doing me a favor…”
“Which is why you’re doing the same for him tonight.” Roxie had her hand again. “Don’t worry about it. We’re with you, we’ll look after you.”
That wouldn’t do anything for letting Carolyn down gently.
“I’ll talk to him tonight.” If she could. “He knows his mother, he probably already has an exit strategy.”
Though it wasn’t completely clear if Bastian knew she’d been invited to this event. They slowed to turn onto a driveway. As the house was revealed, she regretted her decision to be there.
The black night around the large white building was lit with exquisite twinkling lights. In a line of other vehicles, they waited their turn behind limos and sports cars being attended to by valets.
Dread crept in, cooling and marring her skin with goosebumps.
Parties were a part of her work life. Other parties, not parties like this. And as much as her father liked to make out he was rich, which he was compared to many people, this wasn’t their league. Not even close.
This was the league of the super-rich. The one percent. Women dripped with precious jewels and every suit was hand-tailored to perfection.
Thank God she’d settled on her long, silk dress; her alternate option had been a short, red, halter-neck. Far from appropriate.
If she got out of this car she’d be stranded, without an avenue of escape. Except there was no going back. This wasn’t her car. She couldn’t order it to turn around and take her home.
At the head of the queue, Zairn got out first. Roxie stayed right behind her as she inhaled and stepped out.
It was her imagination. It was. It was her imagination that everyone turned to look at the stranger getting out of a car, and with Zairn Lomond too. She’d gone there to make Bastian feel better and so far only managed to make herself feel worse.
This wasn’t about her.
Her chin rose. She wasn’t there for herself, or to make herself feel good, she was there for Bastian. These people could think anything they wanted about her; she would never see any of them again.
Bastian had risked humiliation coming to her aid once, twice actually. Now it was her turn.
Roxie took Zairn’s arm and he offered her the other. Friendship. Comrades. Telling them the whole truth could be something she came to regret. But right then, walking into that intimidating space, she was grateful not to be alone.
No one even asked for her invitation. Maybe it was gauche to worry about paper and bureaucracy, though there was a man at a podium by the door. More likely it was her companions who paid the price of her entry. Would anyone get in the way of Zairn and Roxie?
Grand double doors framed the gleaming marble floor and balustrade beyond.
The domed ceiling had to be fifty feet above the floor they gazed down upon from a circular mezzanine around the upper perimeter.
A double staircase led down to the shimmering main floor, as bright as the breeding that coasted around on castors.
With her skirt in one hand and her clutch around her wrist, she descended to join them. An interloper. A phony. An intruder.
Bastian better be pleased to see her… if she ever came across him.
The whole place was abuzz. People dancing, drinking, smiling, laughing. Waiters circulated with champagne flutes and waitresses carried canapés.
How many drinks had she already had? Alcohol was her friend. Weighing the merits of drinking on an empty stomach, she didn’t give much weight to the con side. If nothing else, it would help her to blend in. She snatched a flute of champagne from the next tray that passed.
Sipping the alcohol, she scanned the surrounding faces. None of them were looking at her. Nope. Roxie and Zairn attracted a lot of attention, maybe they weren’t the best escorts after all.
Locate Bastian. Right. Yes. Where was he? There were so many people, and the space was so large, she could spend hours looking at the ever-moving crowd and never lay eyes on him. She’d be lost in the snow. Alone surrounded by white noise. Ensconced in the mist of bodies.
People came closer. Roxie hurried in front of Zairn, stopping him while addressing Harper.
“Do you want to dance with Zairn?” Because she should take first shift? That wasn’t right. “He’s good.”
“No, thank you,” she said, sort of afraid to look up at the husband the wife was offering. “You go ahead.”
“It gives people a chance to adjust to his presence,” Roxie said. “Sure you’ll be okay? Just for a couple of minutes.”
With the way the newlyweds looked at each other, touched each other, absorbed each other, she could almost divine their need to be close. Apparently, the post-wedding sex didn’t quench their thirst. And, damn, that kind of lust was enviable.
As the couple headed for the dance floor, she slunk through various bodies and groups to stop on the edge of the room.
Maybe she should go back upstairs. It would be easier to observe from the mezzanine above.
Though spotting him and reaching him couldn’t coincide if she was way up there No way would she jump up and down or call out to him.
No, the point was to save him from embarrassment not cause it.
“You look lost,” an unfamiliar masculine voice materialized at her side.
Turning to the source, a broad gentleman reeking with confidence smiled at her.
“No,” she said. “I was just looking for my friend.”
“We can’t have a beautiful woman without a companion, can we?”