CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The rest of the week flew by, my days blurring together. Most of my waking energy was devoted to the two events I had that week—the Origin Telecom event and Hyacinth’s birthday. Everything was coming together well for the party, but I knew from firsthand experience how quickly everything could, and often did, fall apart.
Max continued to text and call every day. It was always friendly—sometimes he shared funny memes or pictures of Basta. My responses were usually short. Not only to protect myself, but because I really was that busy. The Origin Telecom conference had many hiccups and stressed me out so completely that I found actual clumps of hair in the shower after it was over.
But it was done and finished and now I could focus on the event I was most excited for—the one that might lead to my promotion.
All of my hard work in New York had led to this single event, and I needed it to be flawless.
The morning of Hyacinth’s birthday, Max sent me one single message that was running on a loop in my brain all day long.
Thinking of you.
What was he thinking? How did he mean that to sound?
I wasn’t sure.
I got to the hotel early in the morning and directed the vendors on how everything was to be set up. I helped out where I could. It was exhausting but exhilarating work.
Three hours before the event, I got an upsetting phone call. It was from the modeling agency to let me know that half of the models wouldn’t be appearing and they didn’t have anyone to replace them.
“We can send American models,” the agent had said, but that defeated the entire point.
My stomach tied itself up in knots as I realized that I was going to have to find replacements myself. Just as I’d opened my contact list, Max called me. Almost like he’d sensed that I was in trouble.
“Max?” I said, feeling a bit frantic and knowing that just hearing his voice would help me calm down.
“Is everything okay?” His tone was serious and caring.
“I just had three models cancel. Apparently they all went out to dinner together last night and got food poisoning.”
“Can you replace them?”
“I can try. But that means I’m going to have to pay a premium to replace them last minute and I’ve already pushed the limits of this budget. This was like, the one thing Hyacinth was excited about—all her friends getting to take pictures with fake royalty.”
“What do you need?”
“A Monterran in a tux.”
“I can do that,” he said.
Max could do that. Why hadn’t it occurred to me before? “You really want to spend your evening at a sixteen-year-old’s birthday party?”
“Maybe I’m interested in learning more about event planning.”
His reason didn’t matter to me. Him showing up was going to save me. “I’ll text you the address. You need to be here in three hours.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
I hung up. On the scale of one to disaster, the models canceling was barely even like, a three. Max would fill in and things would be fine. I was going to make sure of it.
That sentiment obviously jinxed me. There was an issue with the quality of some of the flowers that we solved after calling a wholesaler, who delivered fresh blooms within the hour. One of the ice sculptures hadn’t been stored properly and was halfway melted. I slightly rearranged the decorations so that it wouldn’t even be missed. The napkins were the wrong shade of blue, but I was going to have to roll with it.
I had planned on going home and getting ready. I had picked out a special dress for tonight—it was red and looked just like the one Kat had worn to a special state dinner in England for one of her best friends, Princess Caitlin. It was the most princessy dress ever and I was going to have to work until I was eighty-five to pay back the amount of debt I’d accumulated to buy it, but I loved it.
I didn’t have time to go all the way home, get ready, and return before the guests started arriving.
While I was doing final spot checks, I called Vella. When she answered, I said, “Can you bring me my dress? It’s on my bed. I don’t have time to get it and now Max is coming tonight and I have to look nice.”
“I was going to wax various body parts, but I can do that later. Send me the address.”
With a sigh of relief, I hung up and texted her.
Things were going to be okay.
Vella arrived very quickly, like she’d grabbed my dress and immediately flown over, which was very unlike her. “Thank you so much! You’re an actual lifesaver,” I said. I took the dress from her and held it up so that it didn’t brush against the ground. I noticed that she had several cases with her. “What’s all that?”
“Remember when I went to cosmetology school? I’m going to do your hair and makeup.”
She had never done anything like that for me before. “Why?”
“Because tonight I am your fairy goth-mother and you are going to enjoy your ball, Cinderella. Where can we get you ready?”
I could feel actual tears coming on. “I’m going to hug you.”
Vella gave me an imperious look. “I will allow it this one time because I deserve it.”
I hugged her quickly. “There’s a bathroom over here that has a makeup counter,” I said. She followed behind me into the bathroom.
“Sit down,” she said as she began setting up her equipment. “Find me a picture on your phone of how you want everything to look.”
Easy enough. I pulled up a photo of Kat in the red dress and showed it to Vella. She leaned in close to the screen. “I can’t do plastic surgery.”
“I meant her hair and makeup!” I said with a laugh, and she gave me an evil grin that let me know she’d said it intentionally to give me a hard time.
Vella was fast and efficient. I was actually in awe of how quickly everything got done. I got changed and put on some petticoats so that my dress would be fluffy. She helped me slide the dress on over my hair so that I didn’t mess it up. She had created long curls that I wore half-up, half-down. She had put enough hairspray on to make us personally responsible for a hole in the ozone layer. My makeup was dewy and soft-looking.
I hardly even recognized myself. “You do good work.”
She agreed with me as she started to pack everything back up. “I do. But didn’t anyone ever tell you not to wear a red dress to a bullfight?”
“I don’t think that’s a saying.”
“It is because I just said it. If you only want to be friends with a guy, you shouldn’t go out there dressed like that.”
I bit my bottom lip before admitting, “Maybe I’m trying to be more than friends with him.”
She stopped what she was doing. “Oh, my shriveled black heart just grew three sizes!”
“Which is still smaller than the average heart,” I said, and she laughed. Then I added, “Thank you so much for doing this.”
“I owed you. I ate the last of the gelato.” She closed her cases. “Now go have fun and please do something worthy of reporting back tomorrow.”
My phone beeped as I was telling her goodbye. It was Hillary from work letting me know that she’d arrived and asking where I wanted her. I told her to head into the kitchen and make sure that everything was on schedule. I trusted Bartolomeo, but Hillary was excellent at gently reminding and encouraging vendors without seeming pushy. She was one of the people I had recruited from the office to help out tonight because I wanted the extra hands standing by. I would do the same thing in two weeks, when I attended the ambassador’s anniversary party—I probably wouldn’t be needed, but it never hurt to have backup.
Plus, I wanted to impress Claudia by volunteering for her event.
I checked in with Marie Albrecht, who was helping Hyacinth get ready to make a grand entrance. They had rented a suite in the hotel and were getting their hair and makeup done professionally. Hyacinth was still on her phone, making silly faces and taking pictures. I hoped this evening was everything she wanted it to be.
I headed back into the ballroom, standing in the middle of the room while the band set up. I turned in a slow circle. It was part Wonder Woman, part taking in what I’d accomplished in a very, very short amount of time, feeling unbelievably proud of it.
There was a noise off to the right. I turned to see Max walk in through the door and nearly fell into a heap on the ground.
If a picture of Suit Max had been overwhelming ... real-life Tuxedo Max was going to be the actual death of me.
My ovaries threatened to wage a revolution, ready to declare independence from my brain if I continued to ignore how hot he was.
He walked over to me, and the closer he got, the more I felt like I was going to pass out.
Then he did something he’d never done before. He greeted me the way a Monterran would, leaning in to kiss one cheek and then the other. His touch was fleeting but it still scalded me, turning my face pink.
“You look ... Wow,” he said.
“No one has ever wowed me before.”
“You deserve it. Along with a few other adjectives that I can’t say with other people around.” My internal temperature rose at his words, and I was concerned that I might break out in a sweat and ruin all of Vella’s hard work.
“It’s just hair and makeup,” I said with a dismissive wave.
He wouldn’t let me downplay it. “No, it’s you. You’re glowing.”
Was I? I was excited about how the party would go, putting aside the minor hiccups from earlier. I was happy to be here with him, and my Copy-Kat dress was giving me a much-needed boost.
I didn’t respond to his observation, feeling a bit too embarrassed. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t want to impose on you and put you in an awkward position.”
“No position with you could ever be awkward.”
Now my face was fully on fire. Was this a language thing? I wondered if he knew how that sounded.
Or maybe I was reading too much into something that had been innocent, due to my ovarian revolution.
“You’ve done me such a huge favor with Sunny that this is a very small thing that I could do in return,” he added.
Focus on the task at hand, I told myself. “I still appreciate you showing up and helping.”
“I’d do anything for you.”
My pulse was so wildly out of control that my blood was not flowing properly. Max noticed and took me by my hands. “Are you doing okay? You seem a little jittery.”
Now I was out of breath, my limbs trembling.
It was because he was close to me, touching me, saying romantic things to me. Which I, obviously, could not tell him.
“I’ve been drinking a lot of coffee today.” That was true, and safer as far as explanations went.
“How many?”
“I can’t remember. Two? Twenty-six? Which means in dog coffees I’ve only had like, three.”
He laughed and it was as glorious a sound as ever. “Where do you need me?”
By my side, I longed to say. I went over to a table and grabbed my clipboard. I didn’t need it to answer him, but it made me feel better holding it. Like a shield. “You mingle with the guests. Say hello, speak in Italian, take photos with whoever asks for it.”
I wondered if it would bother him to be a walking prop.
“Sounds good,” he said with a nod. “What’s with the clipboard?”
“My checklists. Making lists helps me feel in control of things even when I’m not. And they’re also here in case I have a heart attack and go to the hospital—somebody else from Elevated could fill in for me.”
The irony that I might actually be in danger of having a heart attack from Tuxedo Max was not lost on me.
“Has that happened before?” he asked.
“It has. That’s why the policy exists.”
The alarm on my phone sounded, alerting me that I needed to do one final walkthrough because it was almost time for people to start arriving. “I have to get to work, but I’ll check in with you later.”
He nodded. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”
It was silly and romantic and I didn’t know how to respond other than to say, “Okay.”
So stupid.
I was mentally berating myself as I started toward the kitchen when I heard him call my name. I stopped and he walked over to me, taking my hands again.
He said, “Tonight, after the party? I think you and I should talk.”