Then, I’d dressed for the role I was in—whore.
Now, I looked like a star.
I’d been feeling better about myself of late, but at that moment, I was on top of the world. Even had a bounce to my step—which was dangerous in these heels—as I swished out of the bedroom and into the hall.
I’d purchased a pea coat too, obsidian gray silk with a velvet lining to ward off the chill, and as that swirled around my calves as well, I felt like a princess.
It didn’t matter that I was about to face New York society, didn’t matter that, a quick Google search of tonight’s gala, informed me of just how many important people were going to be in attendance—I was Brennan O’Donnelly’s bride.
I was untouchable.
The only thing that spoiled my mood was that conversation with Inessa. As I applied my lipstick, I started to wish that I hadn’t mentioned Finn now. I knew how it felt to be on the outside looking in. Even if Finn was included, he was a brother by choice, as Brennan had phrased it the other day. When, really, it was of blood.
Withholding the truth of Finn’s heritage felt like I was keeping something from Brennan, and with the precarious nature of our relationship, I didn’t want that.
I didn’t want to rock any boat or make him think I was holding stuff back from him.
Trust—he’d asked for it. Loyalty—he was trying to earn it.
I wasn’t going to reward that by lying to him.
The buzzer sounded, rupturing my concerns for the moment, and I used the house computer to turn everything off before making my way to the console table where I’d already prepped my purse with extra lipstick and my cellphone, so I grabbed it then headed onto the elevator.
The mirrors gave me a three-hundred-sixty degree view of myself. I flushed a little, but I knew I’d never looked so good, and it was with confidence that I made my way out into the garage.
The limo was waiting on me, but Bagpipes wasn’t.
I frowned at the stranger who introduced himself as Duncan. I felt like a fool, but I took a step back, not wanting to risk it as I secured myself in the elevator by heading for the third floor.
As the doors closed on me, I saw the driver’s surprise, but I quickly texted Bagpipes who promptly replied with a picture of the man who was supposed to be chauffeuring us tonight.
Recognizing he was the driver waiting by the limo, I decided to brazen it out by walking over to the vehicle like I hadn’t just taken shelter in the elevator, and smiled at him as he opened the door for me once more.
The limo left for the party and I messed around on my phone for a few minutes as the car seemed to take us off Manhattan and toward Bed-Stuy. I was still nervous, especially when I remembered Brennan saying that he wasn’t sure who he trusted anymore, and even though Bagpipes had been nothing but kind, my heart skipped a beat when Duncan pulled up outside a building.
One I didn’t recognize.
One I didn’t know.
It fit my dress, though, seeming to be like something from the thirties. Curious, I peered out onto the facade of what was evidently a club, but relief filled me when Brennan made an appearance.
As he strode toward the limo, it was a wonder I didn’t see stars.
“My God,” I breathed, feeling flushed and excited all at the same time, but grateful too that he didn’t have to see me fangirling over him like he was Benedict Cumberbatch and I was a Cumberbitch.
He wore a tux, a sparkling white shirt with plackets and onyx studs. His bow tie was in perfect alignment, and his shoes gleamed.
Men always had it easy at these events. They just put on a special suit and they looked dressed up, only Brennan was something else. A whole other league. One of his very own.
I didn’t know what it was about him, what hit me like a sucker punch to the ovaries, but he did it every time, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever get sick of it.
Duncan climbed out of the limo, rounded the back of it, and held open the door for my husband who dipped his chin in greeting at the driver, before slipping inside to join me in the swanky ride.
There was a ring of lights running down the length of the vehicle, but that didn’t really illuminate anything, so I wasn’t surprised when he didn’t see me, and instead grumbled, “Camille?”
I smiled. “I’m over here.”
“Why?” was his wry retort. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”