Chapter 30
thirty
AMANTHA
Irushed about my studio apartment, snatching my things before skidding to a stop in front of the mirror. Kate had done it again.
A blue velvet gown enveloped my torso and bare shoulders like a lush ribbon.
The gown’s sweetheart neckline dropped suggestively, dipping between the sculptured corset squeezing my abdomen.
Lifting one arm in the mirror, I wondered why the limp sleeves had been attached in the first place, since they draped uselessly around my upper arms. While I did feel pretty, what I couldn’t feel was my ribcage.
The corset’s boning pressed in like prison bars.
No matter what my ribs had done to deserve such treatment, this definitely wasn’t justified.
I clutched a toe-crushing heel, trying to balance as I shoved it on my foot. Thankfully, a slit in the gown opened a few inches above my knee, allowing for more movement. I straightened the sapphire choker shimmering against my throat.
Lance Stirling’s soirée would start in just over an hour. I needed to get there—now—to ensure the caterers were ready and to set up the auction tables. I suddenly groaned.
The tables! I had forgotten to mention them to Rick. Two tables needed to be stationed near the entrance of the Bloomburg wing to facilitate the silent auction process.
I sent a text to Kate, who would also be arriving early.
AMANTHA: Hey! I’m a complete idiot and forgot about the auction tables. If you get there before me, can you tell Rick Petersen or Blythe? I’ll grab some extra linens for them.
KATE: No biggie, just walked in. I’ll see what I can do. BTW, this place is a vibe!
I chuckled, stowed my phone into my clutch, and went outside. My freshly curled hair tickled my bare collarbones as the summer breeze whispered across them. The car service I ordered pulled up right on time.
Emerging nightlife rose around me as I watched out the window. I sucked in a slow, deep breath. This evening had to go well. Stirling deserved it.
My high heels resounded off The Spiral as I ascended, a few voices echoing overhead. Checking the time, I exhaled in relief. Stirling’s black-tie guests were not scheduled to arrive for another forty minutes. My leg swished through the slit in my dress as I rounded the corner. I pulled up short.
Val stood by the Bloomburg wing’s entrance, lifting a table off an industrial cart and setting it beside another. His tuxedo jacket was missing, and he had cuffed his white sleeves just above his swirling tattoo.
He got my tables?
The unexpected kindness triggered a memory of me drifting off in strong arms and waking to clean, dried coffee mugs.
Val’s gaze suddenly met mine.
His eyes ignited into flames I would have willingly walked into. I wished for those flames to engulf me, to torch my pain to ashes. I craved their blistering relief almost more than I craved him.
Almost.
That’s not fair. I willed him to read my mind. You can’t look at me like that anymore.
Val somehow understood and looked away.
The empty chill that followed made me shiver. We had so much unfinished business that I wished we could resolve. Or at least talk about. A wave of sadness threatened to drown me.
Not here. Not now.
A slow inhale melted into my body, loosened my tension, and fueled me with strength.
“Thank you for doing that.” My collected tone seemed to surprise us both.
Val’s cheeks tinged pink as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s no problem. I overheard Kate, and since I already knew where everything was—”
“I appreciate it,” I cut in. I couldn’t bear to hear any more niceties. “I’ve got to check on the caterer, but thank you all the same.”
The reflective elevator door closed with me inside, concealing Val from view. Relief swept through me as I saw my thick, dark lashes hadn’t smudged from the brimming emotions.
Not here. Not now.
The stainless steel kitchen was alive with activity.
Flagging down the head chef, I found everything going according to plan.
Rows of sparkling champagne glasses stood bubbling away like little drunken soldiers ready for duty.
Black-vested waiters and waitresses grouped together as they received instructions.
I shot them a smiling thumbs-up and snatched a few tablecloths from a folded stack. Thankfully, Val was far across the Bloomburg wing when I returned.
The linens ballooned over the auction tables as I watched him—handsome as ever in his tuxedo—having yet another suspicious-looking conversation with Kendra. My gut twisted.
“Hey, you okay?” Kate approached me in a pale yellow silk gown that looped around her neck and gathered at her slender waist. She had smudged smoky eyeliner along her thick lashes. Her hair had been twisted into an intricate updo with soft, face-framing curls that lined her worried expression.
“No,” I said simply, “but I will be.”
“That’s my girl. I’m so proud of you. You and Blythe killed it.” Kate pulled away, her dark brown eyes skimming my gown. “And if looks could kill, a certain prick will be dead by the end of the night.”
“Oh, Kate. You’re always so eloquent.” I laughed.
Kate shrugged and nonchalantly scratched her cheek with a middle finger aimed in Val’s direction. I giggled, though I snatched Kate’s hands and held them tight.
“O-kay, fine,” she said, “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
I didn’t believe that one bit.
Heavy, confident footsteps sounded from behind me. Kate’s eyes narrowed more with each footfall. There wasn’t enough murder in her glare to suggest Val, so I spun around with a bright smile.
“Brandon! It’s great to see you.”
Val’s new assistant stood beaming with his cocky, megawatt grin.
“It’s great to see you too, Amantha.” His green eyes dipped over Kate as his tone lowered seductively.
“And it’s always lovely to see you, Katie, but I must say it seems to be extra lovely tonight.
” He had the nerve to bow, sweep her shocked hand up to his lips, and brush a formal kiss across her knuckles.
Kate’s audible gasp was a mix of shock and fury. She snatched her hand away and glared into her purse as she began to rifle through it.
I decided to intervene before Kate could skewer him with whatever she was grasping for—even though I knew Kate only ever carried pepper spray. At that thought, I snatched the bag and held it firmly behind my back.
“Brandon, thanks again for offering to help Kate run the silent auction.” I pressed a smile between my lips as Kate discreetly pinched my arm. Hard.
“Of course.” Brandon winked and said, “I’m always game to rescue a fair maiden in need.”
“Who the hell are you calling a fair maiden, you—” Kate’s mottled face was interrupted by my hand.
“Brandon, why don’t you take a seat and we’ll be right back.
” I tugged Kate a few yards away and squared her shoulders to me.
She looked entirely unhinged, her long, black face-framing curls askew.
“Listen. I’m not going to ask you to run the auction table with someone you hate.
But, I also see the way you watch him when you think no one’s looking. ”
Her mouth clamped shut, the flush in her cheeks answering instead.
I grinned at the look of resignation on her face. “That’s a good girl. Now go get us lots of money for Stirling’s charity.”
When we returned, Brandon had claimed one of the two seats behind the auction table, relaxing with an ankle over his knee. He casually draped a heavy arm over the backrest of Kate’s chair when he saw her coming.
I watched Kate lift Brandon’s arm off her chair and dump it in his lap. Stifling my laugh with my hand, I walked away.
It was going to be interesting, if not entertaining, to see how that all played out.
I spotted Stirling’s spiked auburn hair across the hall.
The buzzing young artist wore an almost comically oversized gray suit over a white tank.
A black necktie had been strung through his belt loops, dangling helplessly by his side.
A pair of lemonade-colored sunglasses perched just above the golden piercing on his freckled nose.
His nervous grin widened when he saw me.
“Stirling!” I reprimanded with a laugh. “The invitation said ‘Black Tie.’”
“And? I’m wearing a tie, aren’t I?” Stirling stepped back, flapping what I could only assume was his grandfather’s suit coat. “Rizz for days, Amantha. Rizz for days.”
I laughed harder and said, “I’m not even going to pretend I know what that means. But you look great. You are great. Live it up tonight, okay?”
“Oh, I plan to. Just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. Perfect timing if you ask me.” He swiped a glass of Prosecco from a passing tray as the black-vested servers took up their stations.
Countless voices began to waft up The Spiral, heavy feet and high heels stepping in a rhythm of anticipation. A bundle of nerves jolted across my skin, raising goosebumps.
“Okay, it’s showtime. Now get up there and greet your guests!”
Stirling’s freckled face was painted with equal parts eagerness and anxiety. He grinned and nodded at me.
“Remember that in about twenty minutes, we’ll do the reveal of your auction piece. Oh, and the Chicago Tribune and every online media outlet from your agent’s list will be here. Make sure you make time for them!”
Stirling rolled his eyes, his tone teasing. “Okay, Mom.”
I chuckled and hammed it up, clapping like the soccer mom I really was. “Go get ‘em champ!”
Stirling laughed and headed to the entrance. My laughter died on my lips as I glimpsed a smile from across the room. Val sat watching me on one of the plush armchairs, his elbows resting on his knees.
He seemed relaxed. Carefree. An empty champagne glass dangled from his knitted fingers as his glassy eyes locked with mine. That rugged face of his split into my favorite smile, the ridges of his eyes taunting me. Haunting me.