Chapter 12 #2
I stopped in my tracks when I saw Cain. He stood with his back to me, gazing out at the Manhattan skyline.
The city lights created a dramatic silhouette around him and was perfectly complemented by his perfectly tailored tuxedo.
When he turned around, his eyes widened before he put a lid on his emotions.
“Sutton, you look remarkable.”
“Thank you. The dress is beautiful.”
The way he was looking at me should have been a crime because it made me feel things I didn’t want to feel and hadn’t felt in a long time.
“The dress is merely fabric,” he replied, his eyes never leaving mine. “You’re what makes it remarkable.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I fiddled with a gold bracelet on my wrist that didn’t need to be touched. When I looked up again, he was still watching me, making goosebumps appear on my skin.
“Shall we?” he asked, gesturing toward the door.
I nodded as he grabbed my coat, helped me into it and together we headed toward the elevator.
When we reached the lobby, a limo was waiting for us.
Cain held the door as I slid inside and he made sure that my dress wasn’t ruined in any way, shape, or form.
As we drove closer to the venue, I found myself growing nervous about what was coming next.
I wasn’t sure if Cain picked up on my nervousness and decided to leave me alone or if he was also preoccupied but the car ride was quiet and short, allowing me to center myself and transform into the Sutton Prescott that took no bullshit.
The car slowed as we approached 583 Park Avenue, which was where the charity gala was being held.
I hated the flutters in my stomach as the car pulled up to the entrance.
Through the window, I could see a red carpet and what looked to be hundreds of people around it.
This was clearly no ordinary charity event and based on what I knew about the Ashcrofts, that was no surprise.
Our driver opened our door and Cain stepped out first before he offered me his hand to help me get out of the vehicle. I stared at his hand for a moment before taking the offer. His warmth shook me to my core and once I was out of the car, I quickly let go, as if I was afraid of being burned.
“Ready?” Cain asked, but didn’t indicate that I was acting weird based on how quickly I let go.
I turned to look at him for a moment because I was taken aback by that simple word.
And since when did he give a damn about how I was feeling about anything?
It made me suspicious, but I swallowed the desire to question, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand: getting through this gala, making connections, and being on Cain’s arm.
“I suppose I am,” I said as I pushed away the fears that I had and focused on shifting my mindset because I needed to be on my A-game. “It’s just more… elaborate than I expected.”
Cain offered me his arm, and I slid my hand through it, this time feeling slightly safer because it wasn’t skin on skin. “My mother doesn’t do anything halfway,” he said. “The Ashcroft Foundation raises millions tonight. Appearances matter.”
That tracked with everything I knew about these circles, but instead of adding more to the conversation, I took in the spectacle that was just before us.
The flashes from the photographers who lined the edges of the red carpet, capturing images of some of the biggest names in various sectors across the world, was a scene to behold.
I was convinced that everyone here was dressed in gowns and tuxedos that cost more than my monthly salary.
“Should I know anything specific about your mother before I meet her?” I asked because I realized I was completely unprepared for that introduction. I did my homework on her and the family, but that still didn’t compare to learning what I needed to know from a primary source.
“She’ll ask intrusive questions and make judgments regardless of what you say,” Cain replied. “Just be direct with her. She respects that.”
As we approached the entrance, Cain shifted so that instead of our arms being linked, his hand came to rest at the small of my back so that he could guide me forward.
Cameras flashed as we grew closer to our destination and I was momentarily blinded by the lights.
In all the chaos, I could somewhat make out that people recognized Cain and were probably wondering who I was.
“Cain,” a reporter called out. “Care to comment on Ashcroft Group’s latest moves?”
Cain’s smile was polite but revealed nothing. “We’re here to support the foundation tonight,” he said smoothly. “Business can wait until Monday.”
The reporter’s gaze shifted to me. “And your companion?”
“Sutton Prescott,” Cain said before I could speak. “The newly appointed head of Prescott Vantage.”
I felt a surge of both gratitude and irritation that he’d introduced me without giving me a chance to do it myself, but I refused to show how annoyed I actually was.
“Sutton Prescott, head of Prescott Vantage,” I said, extending my hand to the reporter with a smile that was both warm and professional.
“We’re looking forward to supporting the Ashcroft Foundation’s important work tonight. ”
The reporter’s eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting me to take control of the narrative. I felt Cain’s hand press slightly firmer against my back, but I couldn’t tell if it was approval or warning.
“Ms. Prescott, your company’s acquisition was quite sudden. Any comment on the industry implications?” the reporter tossed back at me.
“As Cain said, tonight is about the foundation,” I replied, taking a page out of Cain’s book. “But I’m happy to discuss Prescott Vantage’s exciting new chapter another time.”
We moved past the reporter, Cain guiding me with that same steady pressure at my back. “Well handled,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
“I’ve dealt with journalists before,” I replied, keeping my smile in place as we entered the venue in order to not raise any red flags because I knew that all eyes were on us.
Something deep inside of me told me that the photographers and reporters would be child’s play compared to what I would find among New York City’s elite.