Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
JENNY
A s I make my way up to my room, my heart races with a mixture of anticipation and disbelief. I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror…flushed, breathless, and more alive than I’ve felt in ages. Brett’s reaction plays over in my mind, his shock and awe, the way he looked at me like he was seeing a stranger he couldn’t quite understand.
Inside my room, I set my bags down, taking in the familiar yet somehow distant surroundings. It’s strange being here again, knowing everything has changed…not just in me, but in how the people around me see me.
Moments later, I hear a knock at the door. It opens before I can respond, and in walks Mrs. Finnigan, the housekeeper who practically helped raise me. Her face breaks into a warm smile, her eyes lighting up as she takes in the sight of me.
“Jenny! Oh, look at you!” she exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug. “Paris did wonders for you, didn’t it?”
I laugh, hugging her back, feeling a wave of nostalgia and comfort. “It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Finnigan. I missed you.”
She steps back, her eyes glistening with pride and perhaps a hint of awe. “We all missed you, dear. You’re like family to us, you know.” She glances around, as if expecting someone, then adds, “Everyone else will be here in a moment. They’ve been so eager to see you back.”
True to her word, the staff I grew up around trickles in…Mr. Collins the butler, Auntie Mae the cook, and a few of the maids. They all greet me with smiles, kind words, and small tokens…a scarf, a little journal, a piece of chocolate…all things that remind me of home. Their warmth fills the room, melting away any lingering nerves.
Once everyone has said their goodbyes and left me with my gifts, I turn to unpack my luggage. I’m already thinking ahead, imagining tomorrow night, the thrill of walking down the grand staircase, of seeing Brett’s face light up when he sees me dressed to impress.
As I stand in my room, taking in the familiar space after years away, there's a gentle knock on the door. My heart skips, knowing it’s him…my father, who I haven’t seen in three years. The door opens, and he steps in, a hesitant, almost apologetic smile on his face.
“Jenny,” he says, his voice softened with relief, his eyes taking in the sight of me as though he can’t quite believe it. “I’m so sorry for being late, love. Traffic was… well, you know how it can be.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a warmth in his gaze that makes me want to run into his arms and let him hold me like he used to when I was a little girl.
“It’s alright, Dad,” I say, offering him a reassuring smile. “I managed just fine.”
He nods, stepping closer, his eyes filled with both pride and wonder as he takes in the woman standing before him. “Look at you… Paris did something, didn’t it?” His voice is soft, and I can tell he’s proud, even a little in awe.
“It was great Dad. Thanks for letting me go. I learned a lot.”
He looks at me, his eyes shining. “You’ll have to tell me all about it. Every detail. I’ve missed so much.”
I swallow, feeling a swell of emotion. “I missed you too, Dad. We’ll talk…about everything. I have lots of stories to tell you.”
He glances around the room, noticing my open luggage, the gifts the household staff left, his gaze softening even more. “They all missed you, Jenny. The house isn’t the same without you around.”
He hesitates, then lets out a quiet sigh. “I have to go out right now to pick up the Madam, but I’ll see you later this evening for dinner.”
“Sure, Dad,” I nod, watching him retreat from the room.
With renewed energy, I turn to my suitcase and start to unpack. I’m already preparing for the party tomorrow. It’s my one chance to impress because all his other usual girls, I’m sure, will be there, and I need to stand out…need him to see that none of them can compare.
My fingers pause over a few dresses…each one glamorous, but I need something just as sexy. Something that stands out, that radiates confidence and allure. Something that will make Brett’s jaw drop.
Finally, my eyes land on the dress. Blood red, daring yet elegant, with a neckline that plunges just enough and a slit that rides high up my thigh. I hold it up, admiring the way the fabric catches the light, and I can already imagine the looks it will draw tomorrow night.
I try it on, smoothing the fabric over my hips, watching my reflection in the mirror as the dress transforms me. It’s bold, almost dangerously so, but it feels like exactly the statement I want to make. I add the final touches…matching red lipstick, delicate jewelry, and strappy heels that elongate my legs. For a moment, I stare at myself, hardly recognizing the woman looking back.
With my heart pounding, I know Brett won’t be able to ignore me in this.
After slipping out of the dress, I carefully hang it back up, smoothing out any wrinkles. Just trying it on has left me buzzing with anticipation. Tomorrow night is going to be unforgettable…I can feel it. I wipe off my makeup, setting the cloth down, and head to the bathroom, feeling the cool tile under my feet.
As the warm water cascades over me, I let myself drift into thoughts about the party and everything that could happen. I imagine the stares, the whispers, the way people will look at me in that dress.
I’ll walk in, and they’ll see me not as the chauffeur’s daughter, but as someone who belongs. And Brett… he won’t stand a chance. The way he looked at me today, stunned and barely able to believe it was me…I want to keep him there, captivated, breathless.
But I still need to decide how to do my hair. It has to match the dress…sleek but a bit wild, maybe pulled back with a few strands framing my face to highlight the red lipstick. Something that says elegance with a hint of rebellion. I smile to myself, savoring the image. Tomorrow, I won’t just blend in with the crowd. I’ll command the room.
After the shower, I towel off and head down for an early evening dinner, the excitement tingling just beneath the surface as I close my eyes.
The next evening arrives quicker than I expect, and soon I’m standing in front of the mirror, my heart racing. I smooth the dress over my hips, taking in the way the blood-red fabric clings to every curve, dipping low at the neckline and sliding up high on my thigh. It’s bold, almost scandalous, yet sophisticated. I paint my lips the same shade of red, watching as the color transforms me into someone even I barely recognize…a woman who’s unafraid to take what she wants.
As I finish my hair…sleek and slightly tousled, framing my face just right…there’s a knock on my door. It’s my father, his voice muffled but warm. “Jenny, don’t be late. The party started an hour ago.”
I glance at the door, sensing his worry, but I’m too exhilarated to let it dim my mood. “I won’t be, Dad, plus I’m a guest, not the help. I’m not supposed to be the first one there,” I call back, trying to keep the thrill from spilling into my voice. Once he leaves, I give myself one final look in the mirror. The girl who once hid in trees to catch a glimpse of Brett is gone, replaced by a woman ready to face him head-on. With one last breath, I head downstairs.
The party is in full swing by the time I step into the grand hall. Music drifts through the room, and people laugh, sipping champagne beneath the glittering chandeliers. As I walk in, heads turn, eyes trailing over me, some even pausing mid-sentence to stare. The sensation is intoxicating.
I catch sight of Brett across the room, talking with a group of men and a few women hovering nearby. When he glances over and sees me, his expression shifts…he barely notices when the woman beside him tries to regain his attention. It’s like I’m pulling him toward me without a word.
But just as he starts to move my way, one of his friends turns, catching sight of me. A smirk stretches across his face, and he nudges another guy beside him. “Well, if it isn’t little Jenny,” he says loud enough for the others to hear, his tone playful but edged with mockery. “Look who’s all grown up.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I keep my expression calm, my head held high. I flash him a polite smile, not letting his words rattle me. The whispers around us don’t matter. Only Brett’s gaze does…and it’s locked on me.
Eventually, I drift toward the bar, needing something to steady my nerves. I order a glass of champagne, letting the bubbles fizz on my tongue as I survey the room. I don’t have to wait long; Brett sidles up beside me, his presence electric.
“Jenny,” he says, his voice low, a hint of amazement still lingering. “I have to say, you are breathtaking.”
I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. “So you’ve said already. Several times in fact.”
I let my voice hold a teasing edge, watching his reaction.
He laughs, but there’s something serious in his eyes. “Yeah, I have, haven’t I? You make me slightly nervous now, I have to admit.”
I give him a slow smile, holding his gaze, almost unable to contain how happy that makes me.
“Oh?” He leans in slightly, intrigued. “Well, maybe you should tell me explicitly how you want me to treat you?”
I take a sip of champagne, my heart pounding. “Like you treat the women you take to that conservatory,” I reply smoothly, a glint of challenge in my eyes.
The words make him pause, his glass hovering mid-air as he registers my meaning. He slowly sets it down on the bar, his gaze sharpening. “Alright, Jenny,” he murmurs, his voice lowering. “Let’s… discuss that. But not here.”
He takes my hand, guiding me away from the bar and leading me toward the indoor conservatory. My pulse races, my hand warm in his as he leads me through the crowd, away from the noise and distractions.
This is it. The moment I’ve dreamed of, only now it’s real, and I’m no longer the girl hoping for Brett’s attention. I’m the woman who has it.