“That’s what I thought.”
From behind, I hear the movement of feet and turn to see six members of the wait staff, holding full trays of food and drinks as requested. I point to the top of the piano, and they set out the linen and spread of plates, including several empty ones with linen napkins and polished silverware.
When they’re done, they make their way back out of the ballroom without another word.
“Wow.” Doralee’s blue eyes turn to circles. “I don’t know…”
“Well I do.” I step over and make a plate with a selection of the foods from the evening. Filet, shrimp, cheeses and bread, boiled quail eggs, risotto and a tall glass of apple juice.
Before she can protest, I bring a bite of the filet to her lips. “Open.”
“No, you don’t understand. My father and his girlfriend…they make me weigh in twice a day and if I gain any weight…”
“Then they are assholes. Sorry, but that’s asshole stuff. Open your mouth right now.”
One last second of hesitation, then she does as I ask, making the most wonderful sound as the food slips past her lips and she devours it like she’s never tasted food before.
After that, it’s the cheese, then a quail egg, and with each bite more color comes to her cheeks and the little girl I see in her eyes giggles and squeals at the joy of it all.
I bring a chocolate covered cherry to her lips, but just as she opens to accept it, and I’m imagining those lips opening to accept something else I want to give her, there’s a sharp gasp from behind us.
“Doralee!” A shrill voice cuts through the moment, and I see Doralee’s face fall. Fear clouds her eyes and she shoves my hand roughly from her mouth. “What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry!” She brushes past me, wiping her mouth as I watch a woman dressed in red and an older man in a tuxedo that looks like a little like W.C. Fields marching across the ballroom. “Please, don’t do—”
“Don’t be sorry for fucking eating.” I snap, turning to point at the approaching duo. “I’m going to make a leap here that you are dad and you are the girlfriend.”
The woman ignores me, grabbing Doralee’s hand and pulling her away. “All the work we’ve done. You’re going to throw it all away? Tonight of all nights? Andre and Michael are waiting for you. We’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
The bit of calm I still have left is quickly eroding as I put together that Doralee is the new ‘meat’ those fuckers were talking about earlier.
She turns as I start to speak. “Please…” The tremor in her voice breaks my heart. “Thank you for everything. I have to go. Please, let me go.” There’s panic and desperation in her eyes, and I never want to see that again, but something is happening here I don’t fully understand.
But I intend to.
“Come along.” The man I assume is her father extends his arm, then motions toward the door before nodding at me. “Mr. Lasssiter. My daughter is here for business, not for pleasure. She’s a child. Shame on you.”
I bite back the words that catch in my throat, because until I can figure out how to fix this, I’m going to let her go.
For now.
Chapter Four
Doralee
BY THE TIME I GET TO Paris, my eyes will be swollen shut and the Hart Agency will most likely turn me right around and send me home. And honestly, I might thank them.
The limousine they sent to pick me up was late but it hums under me on the way to the airport as I hug my coat around me and the familiar gnawing in my stomach has me leaning forward and squeezing my eyes shut, praying for something to take away these feelings.
Saying goodbye to Blubs and Glubs nearly shook me into convulsions.
But, there was more. For three days, I’ve not been able to get Damon out of my mind. He’s not the first man whose wanted me, not even close. I understand to many men I’m desirable. The modeling I’ve done for the last few years has brought a number of challenges, and fending off unwanted advances is nothing new.
Not that Damon’s advances were unwanted.
A little shiver shakes my core at that thought, my eyes burning anew. For some reason, I had this crazy, girlish fantasy that he would come looking for me. Show up at my door and sweep me away, grabbing my dogs on the way and saying he felt the same things I felt that night in the ballroom.
For three days I waited, hoped, even prayed—though I’m not sure I was very good at that, since I haven’t been to church since my mother’s funeral.
Now, here I am. On my way to make my dreams come true.