16. Gold-Leafed Chocolate Truffles
GOLD-LEAFED CHOCOLATE TRUFFLES
*Don’t even breathe when you’re placing the gold. It’s that fragile.
“ W ell, people are definitely going to notice you now,” I told myself at exactly three minutes before six in the evening.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, barely recognizing the woman staring back at me.
Robbie had outdone himself. Apparently on strict orders to keep me away from the kitchen, he’d escorted me around the heart of S?o Paulo before taking for Japan ahead of us.
The process included shopping for a dress at the kind of store that was by appointment only and didn’t have price tags, depositing me at a day spa for a facial and a massage (“You’ll need to be relaxed to get through tonight”), then bringing me to a salon where my hair was styled in delicate spirals around my face while my nails and makeup were done to match the color of my dress.
Which wasn’t just red.
It was the reddest red I’d ever seen. The kind of scarlet that made stop signs pale, wine look like water, and roses wilt on their stems.
“Passion incarnate,” Robbie crowed the moment I exited the dressing room. “We’re done. I’m done. He might fire me for this, but it would be worth it. I would die to see his face when he sees you. Can you take a picture?”
I honestly wasn’t sure I even had the guts to wear the thing out of my bedroom.
Now I turned from side to side, making sure the corseted bodice fit correctly, the bust wasn’t squeezing too tight, and the modest slit wasn’t too high.
But the dress fit like a glove. There was no hiding anymore.
“Marie?” Lucas called from down the hall. “Are you ready?”
“You can do this.” I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, grabbed the matching clutch, and whispered, “ Courage ,” to myself in French, just like Louis used to do.
Lucas was waiting in the living room in the same black tuxedo he’d worn to his father and stepmother’s anniversary party, his back to me as he adjusted his cufflinks.
Seeing the precise tailoring was comforting. Even though the evening was completely out of the ordinary, Lucas was still Lucas. Solid and stable, entrenched in his habits.
“I’m ready,” I announced as I entered the living room.
“Great, we need to catch our—” The words died in his throat as he turned around.
Silence stretched as Lucas stared. He started at my face and continued slowly down to where my red-painted toes peeked out of delicate black straps, and back up again.
He swallowed hard, his hands falling to his sides as he mumbled what sounded like, “she’s trying to kill me.” Then he shook his head. “I mean, you look great, Marie. Really. That’s…a dress.”
I tugged at the gathered taffeta around my hips, which only enhanced the hourglass effect of the dress. “Is it too much? Robbie said it was appropriate, but?—”
“It’s perfect.” The word came out sharper than he probably intended. He cleared his throat and tried again, his voice more controlled. “ You’re perfect.”
The simple compliment hit me harder than any elaborate praise could have. Coming from Lucas, who chose his words as carefully as he chose his investments, it felt like a gift.
“Thank you,” I managed. “You look pretty good yourself.”
A hint of a smile appeared. “You’ve probably seen me in this dozens of times. I think I bought this tuxedo when I became CEO.”
I grinned. I couldn’t help it. The idea that someone as rich as Lucas Lyons was content with using the same outfit for almost twenty years was silly—and a little endearing. “You don’t think it’s time for an upgrade?”
He shrugged. “When I find something I like, I tend to stick with it.”
The way his gaze raked over me while he said that made me shiver.
I smoothed my hands down my skirt, hoping my sweaty palms wouldn’t leave marks. “I feel like I’m playing dress-up.”
“You’re not playing anything.” Then, as if he were reminded of something, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. “I almost forgot. This should complete the look.”
He crossed the room and opened the box to reveal a delicate chain of white gold bearing a teardrop diamond pendant surrounded by smaller diamonds that looked like stars. The pendant caught the light, making it dance across the ceiling above us.
“It’s just a loan,” Lucas stated as he took it out. “But my mother always said a good piece of jewelry felt like armor. I thought you might need some.”
His mother , he said. Not his stepmother.
For some reason, that felt more important.
“Turn around.”
I obeyed without thinking and heard the sharp intake of breath when he saw the way the dress dipped to the small of my back, similar to a ballerina’s leotard.
It wasn’t normally a style I could wear due to the size of my bust, but the exquisite tailoring and its foundational garments made it possible.
I felt quite beautiful, especially under his appreciative gaze.
His fingers brushed the nape of my neck as he fastened the clasp,. Then his hand whispered down my spine before he placed it at the small of my back, his thumb remaining on my skin, and turned me to face him.
The pendant swung from side to side just above the swell of my cleavage, but like a gentleman, Lucas kept his eyes pinned to mine.
“We should go. The jet is idling at the airport.”
“Jet?” I allowed him to guide me to the elevator.
The hand at the small of my back didn’t leave, even as he was pressing the button for the lobby. I found I didn’t want it to.
“Yes, we have to take a short flight. Dinner’s in Brasília. Didn’t I mention that?”
Approximately two and a half hours later, we followed Lucas’s security out of another hired car and onto a red carpet lined with photographers.
The Palácio da Alvorada, as I’d learned on our flight, was the official residence of the president of Brazil.
The administration frequently hosted formal state dinners, like the one we were attending tonight, lauded by the national press and attended by dignitaries, business leaders, and celebrities.
Tonight, they were hosting the President of France and his wife.
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me I was your date to an actual state dinner until I was literally on my way,” I said as I walked with Lucas onto the red carpet.
He smirked as he took my hand and tucked it casually in the crook of his elbow, just like he had done at the park. “And miss out on your expression? Never.”
“I might have chosen another dress,” I replied as we followed the other guests toward the entrance of the palace. “Something less ostentatious.”
“I believe my instructions were ‘wear whatever the fuck you want.’” His gaze burned. “And I don’t regret it one bit. You belong at a place like this.”
“I belong in kitchens,” I corrected. “Usually ones that aren’t attached to palaces.”
“Tonight, you belong with me.”
The simple statement made my heart skip a beat. I turned, wondering if he meant it as a joke, but he was already nodding at another man in a tuxedo, a businessman or dignitary who clearly was important to his work.
I had no choice but to keep moving with him.
After all, technically, I was still working. My duties had simply expanded for one night.
The Palácio da Alvorada was even more impressive than it appeared in pictures, a modernist masterpiece of soaring glass and swooping concrete.
Even more impressive was that on this balmy evening, the banquet had been set up under tents that surrounded the pools of water and the mermaid-like bronze statues at their center.
The effect was a layout of airy festivities that appeared to be cradled in a star-split cloud.
“Deep breaths,” Lucas murmured as if he could sense my waning confidence.
This wasn’t just a party. Some of the most important people in the world were here tonight. Lucas had been invited, that meant he was one of them.
And then there was me. His shy cook.
“Right, deep breaths.” I smoothed my hands over my skirt one more time. “I can do this.”
“You can do this. And if it helps, just remember that half of these people probably couldn’t even boil water if you asked them. You have skills none of them could ever hope to attain.”
We edged forward in a line at the largest tent, where a military aide was announcing attendees one at a time after security approved them.
Lucas presented someone who looked like an event planner with an official-looking invitation, but she didn’t need any verification as she handed it to the announcer.
“ Senhor Lucas Lyons e Senhorina Marie Zola dos Estados Unidos ,” he droned as we were waved into the party.
At least fifty pairs of eyes looked up when they heard the names. While I was certain they didn’t recognize mine, many of them zeroed in on me when they saw whose arm I was holding on to like a life preserver. Their questions were palpable from many feet away.
Who was this girl?
Why was she with Lucas Lyons?
What was she even doing here?
“Oh God,” I muttered. “Oh, God, Lucas, I don’t think I can?—”
“Just breathe, baby.” His hand found the small of my back again and turned me to face him. “I have you.”
I looked up into his stormy eyes, though the gray had become a comforting heather variety, like a rainy day that made me want to curl up in an armchair with a cup of tea and a good book.
Soft.
Inviting.
Safe.
“You’re with me,” Lucas reminded me. “I won’t leave you alone.”
We stayed lost in the moment until my heart rate returned to normal.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Okay, I’m good now.”
“Are you sure?”
“Monsieur Lyons!” a voice called across the party in heavily accented English while the announcer continued with other guests’ names.
We turned toward a spritely older gentleman in another tuxedo, who was approaching with a warm smile beneath a thin gray mustache.
“So glad you could come” he said. “ O presidente will be ecstatic. You know how he loves his good press, and your name will make the paper. But who is your lovely date?”