27. Brooke
brOOKE
Agorgeous red gown with sequins, crystals, and feathers, along with a matching mask, arrives at my home on Saturday morning. I start to refuse it, assuming it’s an apology from Stuart.
My heart sinks when I learn it’s from the PR firm. Apparently, they want to make sure I’ll look appropriate at the ball.
I kick myself for being disappointed that it isn’t from Stuart. What did I expect? He doesn’t even know I’m upset, much less the reason. This isn’t a fairytale where Prince Charming shows up with a glass slipper. This is real life, and I keep effing it up looking for true love.
Mid-afternoon, I inform Mr. Barclay that he needs to find someone to replace me at the masquerade ball. He responds that it would be impossible. Unless I attend, I’m effectively turning in my resignation to the law firm.
What the ever-loving-fuck!
Unfortunately, he’s one of the senior law partners who likes to throw around his power.
I pace in my apartment for a good twenty minutes as the pros and cons race through my head.
Ultimately, I decide that looking for a new job while unemployed isn’t a good move.
So, I relent to my boss’s request and begin dressing for the ball.
Besides, Cassie and Lowri will be there.
They’ll be looking for me to show them around.
At the appointed time, my carriage arrives to take me to the ball.
Okay, it’s just a regular black sedan, but tonight I feel like Cinderella—well, not exactly.
In reality, I look like a cross between a princess and a seductress in the red, shimmery, strapless, mermaid gown.
The sweetheart neckline shows off my cleavage, and the fluffy feathers at the bottom add a touch of decadence that will make me stand out from the crowd.
My mask is trimmed in shiny sequins, crystals, and feathers to match.
It will be interesting to see if anyone recognizes me. I’m not even sure I’ll be able to identify anyone else. Maybe that will make it easier to avoid Stuart.
The ball is being held in an enormous Hollywood mansion. I heard that there will be at least two hundred attendees. We probably won’t cross paths anyway.
I’m still fidgeting with worry as the car pulls to a stop in front of the magnificent home. A valet opens my door and offers his hand to me as I attempt to gracefully exit the vehicle while taking in the details of the scene before me.
Warm white lights illuminate the perfectly manicured lawn and pathway from the drive to the stained glass, double doors at the front.
White bricks form the home’s exterior, accented by large glass windows with freshly painted black trim.
Rose bushes in full bloom spread a flowery scent through the air, causing me to inhale deeply and savor the pleasant aroma.
I climb the three steps from the drive to the entrance path and follow other attendees toward the front doors. Greeters stop us short of the doors to scan our electronic invitations before granting us admission to the red carpeted path.
Photographers snap photos in rapid succession as reporters pummel me with questions, such as, “What designer are you wearing?” “Who are you?” “Who’s your date tonight?”
I smile, identifying the designer as an up-and-coming British phenom, known as J.
J. Eton. A card accompanying the dress instructed me to provide that information tonight.
I also give my name and indicate I’m attending on behalf of my law firm, which is a sponsor.
As for the question about a date, I toss my long auburn wave behind my shoulder and shrug, saying, “It looks like I’m sailing solo tonight. ”
With my red carpet walk complete, someone hands me a glass of champagne and directs me inside the mansion. Following the crowd down the hall to a large room on the right, I find myself surrounded by at least thirty pieces of breathtaking diamond jewelry on display.
These are the jewels in the silent auction tonight. I heard they were incredible, but that doesn’t do them justice. These pieces belong in a museum. I’m in awe.
A line has formed, snaking around the displays. I follow, stopping at each piece to admire it and read the card with a detailed description. I almost gag at the starting price of the first one. I’m not sure I’ll make that much money in a lifetime.
Halfway through the items, I stop, mesmerized by a diamond and black pearl necklace.
The description says there are twenty-three 15 millimeter, perfectly matched, natural Tahitian black pearls.
A one-carat, flawless white diamond sits between each pair of pearls.
My necklace was much smaller, and the only diamonds were tiny ones on the clasp. Still, it was incredibly special to me.
“Is that you, Brooke?” a familiar voice asks.
I turn and immediately recognize Lowri and Cassie. “It is. How did you recognize me?”
“Your beautiful auburn hair,” Cassie gushes.
“That makes sense. Are you two having fun?”
“We haven’t been here long. We’ve only had time to look at these incredibly expensive jewels. Do you really think they will all sell tonight?”
“The Foundation hopes they will. There certainly are enough uber-wealthy people here, from what I’ve been told. If you could afford it, which piece would you bid on?” I ask.
“That’s easy. I’m in love with the gorgeous, princess-cut, white diamond ring.” Lowri says, dreamily pointing to a glamorous ring displayed on our right. It shimmers like fireworks under the lights.
“It is spectacular. I don’t blame you. How about you Cassie?”
“I wouldn’t mind that emerald and diamond necklace,” she says, gesturing to the other side of the aisle where three women in designer dresses are admiring it. I hear one say she’s going to have her husband bid on it for her.
“Which is your favorite?” Lowri asks.
“Everything here is gorgeous, but I’m particularly drawn to this diamond bracelet. By the way, have you seen our client yet?” I ask, scanning the crowded room for him.
“I’m not sure. All the men are dressed alike in black tuxes and shiny gold masks. It’s hard to tell them apart except for their variations in height and hair color,” Cassie muses with a shrug.
“True. But if you need to find him, we can help,” Lowri offers enthusiastically.
“No. I was just curious. It’s doubtful he’ll need a lawyer tonight. If Stuart wants to find me, José from the PR firm will know how to recognize me since they sent me this dress.”
Lowri taps her mouth with her index finger, asking, “So, it’s Stuart, instead of Lord Sandridge now, is it? What’s up with that?”
I laugh nervously. “Umm . . . nothing. He just insists that we be on a first name basis since we’re working together so closely.”
“Just how close is close?” Cassie asks with raised eyebrows.
“He’s a good guy, but it’s purely business between us,” I say, tapping my toe nervously.
“He’s hot as hell. I’d be pushing the business boundaries if it were me,” Lowri whispers conspiratorially, so the people jostling past us won’t hear.
“I can’t. He’s . . . umm . . . related to a client,” I say, staring at my hand as I twirl my ring, avoiding their questioning eyes.
“Isn’t the Foundation the client? Is he on the board or something?” Cassie asks.
“No, he’s not part of the Foundation. He’s filling in for his dad, who is the head of the Foundation.”
“Then you have a green light. Go for him,” Lowri encourages.
“He’s a viscount who lives in London. Even if I were interested, which I’m not, it would never work. Besides, you saw his morning show interview yesterday. There’s no one special in his life.”
Lowri’s and Cassie’s jaws drop in unison.
“Oh. My. God. You slept with him before he said that, didn’t you?” Lowri gasps.
I stare at her in stunned horror, not able to speak as I clutch my evening bag tightly.
Cassie chimes in apologetically, “We shouldn’t be prying. It’s just that you looked so happy when we saw the two of you together.”
“I’ll admit that we’ve enjoyed our time together. But it can’t be anything else. It was just a few days. Time to tuck a few memories away and move on. It’s not like it was really all that special anyway.”
“Don’t be so sure. Have you spoken about the interview?” Cassie asks.
“No. What’s the point?” I ask, taking a deep breath to steady myself.
“For all you know, that was just his stock answer when asked about relationships. It doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re not special to him,” Cassie suggests.
“I hadn’t thought of that. It doesn’t matter now though.” I close my eyes, tears threatening to fall. Fortunately, my mask hides some of my emotions.
“Why doesn’t it matter?” Lowri asks.
I hesitate before answering. After an awkward silence, I close my eyes and say, “I told him that it’s business only going forward.
I was rude and cold to him. Besides, I refuse to be a clingy, needy woman.
We’ve only known each other for a week. It’s not like we were in a relationship.
And I’ve never wanted to be. My career is my focus. ”
“Believe me, we understand. Neither of us is looking for a relationship either. But ask yourself, will you regret letting him go without a fight? What if this is nothing more than a misunderstanding? Think about it,” Cassie says.
“Thanks. I will. Now go enjoy the evening. And don’t miss out on the food. Given the amount people paid to be here, it must be spectacular.”
“Don’t worry, Cassie will make sure we check out the food. She’s a chef at heart.”
“Lowri’s right. I love to cook. I’m just disappointed they wouldn’t let us bring our mobile phones. I’d love to take photos.”
“I bet Art and José from the PR company have a professional photographer here. After this is over, I’ll reach out to see if they’ll share food photos.”
“That would be great. I always take photos when I come across interesting food ideas. Then I experiment with my own twists and practice attractive plating options,” Cassie says.
“I’ll happily taste test when you’re cooking. But now I need to mingle since our law firm is a sponsor,” I say.