Oversized, stuffy, high-end gatherings were the norm growing up, thanks to my mom being a wealthy, social butterfly.
My stepdad, Pat, while not the most outgoing, enjoyed the clout of our status. He always bragged about playing golf with some judge, or even the governor on the weekends.
A mask of perfection since our lives were seriously fucked up.
I grew up camouflaging the newest bruise I’d have acquired from Lonnie before any event. The black and blue fingerprints on my arm, the faint purple mark under my eye, the faded yellowish green outline on my shoulder—any “imperfection” as Mom called it had to be done away with. And if the makeup didn’t conceal well enough, I was sent to my room or some corner to be hidden away for the night.
And after a colossal disaster at one of their anniversary parties, I stopped going all together. So yeah, it’s been a few years since I’ve been to something this grand.
And it is grand.
The Seattle Art Museum is never lacking, but tonight it’s over the top. Ritz dripping onto the streets, with limos coming and going like they’re Toyota Camrys. My doubts about coming here skyrocket at the sight.
Someone is bound to notice me. I knew this was a bad idea.
Roxie’s never invited me to an event like this. Wine cellars, cottage homes outside the city limits, the Space Needle… yeah, cool, I’ve been to those, but this?
I tap Roxie on her bare shoulder as we enter. “Was that a supreme court judge we just passed?” Great.
She shrugs. “Probably.” Then she struts through the crowd like she owns the building.
My breathing quickens. “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Stop.” She twirls around and grabs me by the shoulders before dragging me away to a fairly isolated corner.
We’re standing partly behind a burgundy curtain, away from the lively crowd as my heart flutters madly against my throat.
“First, I wouldn’t have brought you to this if I thought something bad would happen.” Her voice breaks through some of the frenzy in my brain as I look up at her. “Second, check yourself out.” She angles me toward the full-length mirror that’s on the opposite side of the room.
Through the traffic of people, I catch my display, and my breath stops. “Tell me now if you’re ashamed to let Seattle see that?”
Knotted shoulders loosen at my reflection. It’s the first time I’ve seen everything about tonight’s look on display at once.
I’m not one to be conceited, but Roxie wasn’t kidding about turning me into a goddess.
The overt cinching of the waist, combined with the flaring of my bust and hips, give me the silhouette of Marilyn Monroe. And my large green eyes haven’t disappointed me yet. The whole package of my olive skin, full face of glam makeup, and plump lips gives me enough confidence to face the world with a smile.
Or at least this room for the night. I doubt people here know me at all. I’m over 1700 miles away from … everything. It’s crazy to think the past would track me down here of all places.
I smirk, brushing away these irritating feelings of dread. They’re nothing but a thief of my well-deserved moment of joy. “Well, don’t I look hot?”
Roxie nods, biting back a laugh. “You’re welcome.”
“Wanna redo my wardrobe next week?”
“Only if I can tailor everything.”
I’m about to say, “Hell no,” when we’re cut off.
“Evening, evening.” The bright interference of Nicholas Martin fills our tiny space.
I turn to greet him, giving him a curt smile, even though my skin is kind of crawling.
I’ve met Nick a few times. He’s a co-worker of Roxie’s, and the HR overseer for Hall and Brexton. No small feat, I’m certain.
I do wonder about his qualifications, however, because in my book, he’s a perv.
The night he suggested a ménage à trois, even offering to pay for the service, is forever etched in my brain. So yeah, good looks and all, he’s a deviant.
But threesome offers won’t be happening tonight. He’s glued to Roxie. Dark brown eyes latch on to my friend as he rakes her from head to toe. I’m certain he’s thinking of her naked. A sight I know he’s seen multiple times, thanks to Roxie’s openness about her after work activities. “You look hot.”
“Mmm.” She returns the flirtatiousness. “Not bad yourself, Nick.” And she’s right. Chiseled cheekbones, piercing blue eyes, and a tall build look even better tonight. It must be the tux.
“Thanks. I’d offer to slip away with you,” he says, his smitten look fading, “but something's come up.”
“What’s come up?” Roxie asks, her expression turning wary.
“Holly called in sick.” He moves in closer. “Thanks to that, we’ve hit a few bumps.”
“Fan-f-ing-tastic,” Roxie mutters. She knows exactly where this is heading, and so do I. “So, what do I need to do?”
“Bedsides Holly, you’re the one who’s put most of this together. Make sure the MC knows what the schedule is for tonight, and that the plans in general stay on track.” He rubs at the nape of his neck. “Holly failed to send the memo of tonight’s schedule over to the coordinator and caterer on time. They’re kind of scrambling.”
“I bet she did.” Roxie’s manicured hands clench. “That worthless piece of shit is so fired after this.”
“Oh yeah,” Nick agrees. “I think Mr. Hall will throw her stuff out the window personally come Monday.”
Well, that settles it.Looks like I’ll be flying solo for the rest of the night.
It’s confirmed when Roxie looks my way with a sympathetic gaze. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I reach out and pat her arm, trying to remain calm.
While I don’t want to be here alone, this isn’t Roxie’s fault. And nothing will happen. Roxie’s assured me so many times. So, I quip a smile, falling into her reassurance.
“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” She crosses a finger over her heart, and then flits away, Nick tailing right behind.
I won’t see her till after the event.
Now that I’m alone, my pulse quickens, but only for a second.
After glancing around, I take note of the multiple security guards.
They swarm everywhere through the crowd, their sharp eyes sweeping to and fro, stern lines across their features. Some are in uniform, but others are undercover. The latter are easy for me to spot. Chalk it up to my terrified ways, but hiding these last few years has trained me how to spot anyone who could provide me with some type of safety.
The sight reassures me that I am safe here. Roxie has been true to her word once again.
Breathing easier, I decide the bathroom will be my first stop for a quick final primping. If I’m going to be on my lonesome, I need to make sure every hair is in place.
I glance to the wide, stone stairwell, gaping at the magnificent Ming Dynasty statues of soldiers lining the path. There’s bound to be some bathroom there, but I’m not sure how long the walk will be.
The main area catches my eye. A gently curved room with white marble flooring. Branches from the large tree trunks suspended from the ceiling, dwarf the attendants mingling. It’s also where our main course will be held. Tables and chairs are orderly arranged, each top glowing with a gentle light from multiple tea candles.
That’s where I should be, but without Roxie to lead me, I don’t have the will to enter said space. Not yet.
I move to a different part of the building. And a hook around a corner has me in a blue carpeted room with a domed ceiling, perfectly decorated with sepia toned photographs of wildlife adorning the walls. Best of all, there are bathrooms here, and I slip into the ladies’ room.
More appealing art greets me. Hand carved face masks and gold pottery are everywhere I turn. Stunning as they all are, I don’t linger long because I’m feeling a bit uneasy. Most likely, it stems from my nerves, but I haven’t been eating much the last few weeks either. That fact is catching up to my brain at the moment, and I’m presently starving. My stomach lets out a loud growl as I dig into my clutch for my compact.
Thankfully, dinner will start soon. Food will be a must if I don’t want to faint, so I only take enough time to check my hair and make sure my lipstick is smudge-free. When I’m satisfied that everything looks to be in place, I replace my belongings.
I’m sliding out the door, head down, arranging my clutch since the thing is so petite it won’t close properly when—“Omfph.”
I’ve run right into a wall. Why don’t I look where I’m going? Mom always did say I had my head in the clouds. Exactly what I get for not looking. But I freeze when it’s not a wall. Warmth, a low grunt, and black, smooth fabric tell me it’s a man.
A well-built one at that—and he’s not moving an inch. My nose is nearly pressing into his lower chest, and the scents of lemon and leather are descending from everywhere. It’s euphoric, and I’m going dizzy.
And embarrassed as I stand here for too long.
“Pardon me.” I force myself to speak, and a flush rises to my cheeks. The warmth takes over like a flame when I notice how well his designer suit fits, tapering perfectly at his waist. Quickly, I dart my eyes away from the dark tux, sweeping my fingers behind my ear.