Chapter Thirty-Two
The road to the New York Botanical Gardens was lined with throngs of people teeming behind the barricades, some waving signs with messages for Sol as screams of delight rent the air. It was unsettling, but Sol didn’t blink; she was firing off emails and muttering exchanges with Naya.
As the car turned into the Gardens, I shot a text to Michelle to let her know our arrival was imminent.
I knew from my briefings that we would alight outside one of the famous hothouses, whereupon a red carpet would lead us into the hothouse itself to walk through the featured display of killer plants – among selected paparazzi and influencers who would document Sol’s progress – and then out into an open space where an outdoor screen was set up to play the feature for all the guests.
Sol wasn’t going to stay for the whole show, however.
I was to escort her to a luxury trailer to change into a new outfit, even though she was only going to be at the after-party for a short while before making her way to Teterboro airport to fly to Paris.
The car turned through the Botanical Gardens’ huge gates, flanked by an army of black-suited security guards ushering us through with blank-faced severity.
We crawled down the avenue and then stopped.
Outside the car I could see the carpet, velvet ropes and photographers …
lots of photographers. Further down the carpet I could see a few RJF staff and VIP guests in fabulous gowns, but the one person I hoped to see wasn’t in view.
Elliot had assured me he would drop everything at Woodstock to be here tonight.
Sol looked otherworldly in a custom-made Valentino gown, constructed from cream silk that flowed around her like lily petals. Huge emeralds clustered at her ears and wrists and fine golden chains twinkled from where they were woven into her elaborate hair.
“Are you ready?” I asked, as our driver opened the rear passenger door.
Sol lifted her chin, all business. “Let’s go.”
I slid out of the car, trying not to wince as camera flashes erupted before me like a solid wall of fireworks.
I turned, offered my hand to Sol, who gracefully took it as she glided out of the vehicle and onto the red carpet.
Naya and I followed a few paces behind her, allowing the paparazzi to get clear shots of the star of the moment.
Although it was fascinating to watch Sol work the carpet up close, I couldn’t help looking around for Elliot, and Naya had to hiss at me to stop fidgeting.
As Sol finished chatting to one outlet, a woman in a chic black gown rushed over to swoop her up in a hug. Wow. It was Janice Kittredge. As much as I wanted to pepper her with questions, I hung back politely as she and Sol embraced and chatted.
“Sol Rodrigues, you are a woman in demand,” Janice cooed, clutching Sol’s hands. “I’ve had some compelling pitches today; but two had you as lead.”
“Two?” Sol blinked with confusion.
“Yes!” Janice laughed.
I held my breath.
“RJ’s script is a masterpiece,” Janice went on, much to my delight. “The other pitch was very intriguing though. It’s given me a lot to think about.”
“Janice, I wish my manager was here,” Sol said. “Because I’m not aware of any projects I’m attached to being pitched to studio this week – apart from RJ’s that is.”
“Oh.” Janice frowned. “Well it’s—” She was interrupted by security encouraging everyone to keep the flow of traffic going down the carpet. “Okay, okay. We’ll talk later, yes?” And with that, she tottered off with her team of suits.
Sol turned to look at Naya and me. “That was weird.”
But there was no time to dwell as Sol embarked on another round of pictures and interviews, calling me over to help with her dress or check a movie-related fact, which, thanks to Michelle’s excellent briefing, I was able to supply.
Eventually, we made it to the end of the carpet.
My feet were already killing me; the shoes might have been beautiful, but I was dying to tear them off and throw them in the nearest bin.
We’d arrived at a little paved area surrounded by spectacular flower beds that filled the air with an intoxicating scent.
In front of us was a small set of steps that led into the ‘Killer Plants’ exhibit.
Haunting music drifted towards us from the conservatory, where a live singer was serenading the premiere guests.
“God, I need a cigarette,” Sol wailed, hopping from foot to foot; her heels were even more treacherous than mine.
“You cannot smoke in that dress,” Naya said sternly.
“I know,” Sol said, sticking out her bottom lip. “Hey, you think one of these plants can double up as a painkiller?”
“You might draw some attention if you start nibbling on the displays,” Naya said in a rare moment of levity.
“Take your time,” I added. “Nothing starts without you. People will wait.”
Sol squinted at something behind me. “Speaking of people waiting.”
I followed her gaze. Elliot stood by the entrance to the conservatory, his eyes roaming the gardens. Even at this distance, he electrified every cell in my body.
“Damn, that man is really wearing that tux,” Naya breathed. I could only agree.
Sol nudged me. “Why don’t you say hello?”
I blinked at her. “But I have to escort you through the carpet to the screening. And then the speeches …”
Sol smiled. “I’m having a few minutes here. You got time to say hello.”
“Are you sure?”
“Lucita.” Sol fixed me with a stern glare. “We’ll see you on the other side.”
“Fine, fine.” I squeezed her hand. “Thank you.” I took a deep breath, then hitched up my skirt and ascended the flight of steps, ignoring the stabs of pain from the shoes.
Elliot caught sight of me as I reached the top, doing a visible double take.
We met each other’s eyes and instantly nothing else mattered, only him.
I could feel his eyes hungrily roving over me and my heart began to pound, harder and harder as I approached, so much so that when I finally stood before him, I was trembling.
“Hi.” I didn’t trust myself to say any more.
Truth was, there were not enough words to describe how Elliot looked.
He’d tried to neaten his wild mop of hair, but it still looked like he’d run his hands through it multiple times, giving him a rakish air that was both endearing and sexy.
Although the tuxedo showed off the lines of his body to perfection, it also lent him an air of powerful sophistication that I’d never appreciated about him until now.
Elliot looked like a man who would run the world one day.
Eyes fixed on mine, he raised my hand to his lips and grazed my knuckles with a kiss so loaded with promise I could barely breathe. “Hi.”
“Nice suit,” I joked, shakily.
“You …” He swallowed audibly, gestured at the dress. “Is this new?”
I slowly lifted a shoulder in affected nonchalance. “Like it?”
His breath hitched. “It’s bewitching.”
I’d never get tired of the way he looked at me. “I don’t think I’m ever going to take it off.”
“Trust me, you will,” he said with a smirk, and warmth pooled, deep in my body. It terrified me how much I wanted him.
One of the guards managing the door stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to keep moving.”
“Sorry, bud,” Elliot said. He tugged at my hand and pulled me close. “Shall we?”
I gripped his hand tightly, hoping the feeling of his skin against mine would anchor me to the moment; whatever happened to Elliot and me, I didn’t want to forget tonight.
We walked towards the doors, but the feeling was returning to my feet, and it felt like I was walking on pebbles.
“You may need to carry me,” I said. “These shoes are doubling up as torture devices.”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Elliot lowered his head to murmur in my ear. “I intend to have you off your feet at the earliest opportunity.”
We stepped through the conservatory doors and were instantly hit with a wave of humidity as we walked through a towering archway of greenery, shot through with trailing vines and flower buds.
The air was thick with the most incredible perfume, deep and exotic.
We followed the carpet through the hothouse, at every turn a new, brightly colored flower to marvel at.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?” I said.
“Never.” Elliot’s voice was oddly quiet, and I glanced up to see him looking at me.
I blushed hotly. “Eyes on the road or you’ll fall in that pond up there.”
“Worth it,” he said.
We followed the red carpet into a second, smaller room of the conservatory, where it split to encircle a long, narrow pond that had been lit to look as though the water was blood red.
The ceiling was covered with trailing vines that dangled down, some loaded with bright red berries, others with little orange-lantern blossoms. They may well have been deadly, but along with the carpet and the red pond, they created the illusion of a beautiful inferno.
Elliot and I moved apart, to walk either side of the water.
And although I should have been watching my step, taking in the stunning floral displays, I only had eyes for the man walking mere feet away.
It didn’t seem real that in just a couple of days, I would be leaving this country with no idea if or when I’d be back.
There were many reasons that returning home was the right thing to do, but right in front of me was the biggest reason of all to stay, and I felt as if I were being pulled in two.
How on earth was I going to do it? When he and I reunited the other side of the pond, he cupped my face in both hands, seemingly oblivious to the other guests.
Just a few short weeks ago, Elliot Fox had been the thorn in my side and now, to my complete surprise, he was the one person I wasn’t sure I could do without.
“I need to tell you something,” he whispered.
“What?” He looked so serious.