by Goode, Ella
“Forty-five!” I shout.
“What the fuck? You just said sorry!” The woman from the other table looks as though she’s going to explode.
“Sorry?” I say again, and my grandma shakes with silent laughter. The woman slams the paddle down on the table.
“He’s not that good in bed,” she says loudly for everyone to hear. Oh, they must have been teasing about the virgin comment they said earlier about him. I guess the joke is because he gets around? Silly of me to think that a man that looks like him could be a virgin. The joke is actually on me for believing it.
“Forty grand says otherwise,” Grandma tosses back at the woman, making the people around us snicker.
“Grandma!” I shouldn't be shocked. Grandma can land some killer one-liners that tend to be on the dirty side. They shouldn't catch me off guard anymore, but they still do. She looks so prim and proper until you mess with her or me.
“Forty-five. Going once. Going twice.” I listen to the announcer, praying that I don’t have to lift my paddle to bid anymore. I close my eyes. “Sold to the pretty young lady. Congratulations. You can head over to the table at the back to pay for your man.” When I open my eyes and look around, everyone is staring at me with curiosity. Great, now I’ve drawn attention to myself.
When I look up toward the stage, I see Fréres has a huge smile on his face. I’m all yours, he mouths to me with a teasing smile. For one second, I find myself wishing that were true.
Thankfully, the next man’s bidding starts, and the attention pulls from me. I make my way over to the table. I don’t miss the handful of glares that I get from the women as I walk. I open my small purse, pulling out his card and mine too. I hand over mine. I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do, but I actually think it will make my grandma happy.
“You’re the lucky lady who got Fréres. We’ve been trying to get him on this stage for years.” She slides my card.
“I guess I am.” She hands me the card back.
“Here are the dates he has available.” The woman turns a tablet my way, showing a calendar.
“Oh no, that’s okay.” I put my card back in my purse.
“You have to pick a date.”
“No, it’s fine, really. Thank you.” I give her a smile before turning to slip away back into the crowd to make my escape.
Chapter Seven
Gant
“You look happy.” Petersburg stops me when I exit the stage.
“Got bid on by the right person. You should be happy, too. Why the long face?” He had his sister bidding by proxy.
“My sister conveniently forgot that the friend she got to help us out hates my guts.” He chews on the corner of his mouth in worry. “Hopefully she doesn’t intend to follow through with her win. If I actually have to spend a date with her, one of us may not come out alive.”
A clasp his shoulder. “Let’s go see what they have to say at the auction table. I want to get the contact details for my date.”
Petersburg grumbles under his breath and follows willingly. As we round the corner of the backstage and head down the hall toward the payment site, Sean Campbell peels away from the wall like a leech detaching himself from a drained host to find a new victim.
A snake oil salesman smile stretches across his face, revealing shiny veneers too big for his mouth. I didn’t like seeing him right next to my princess and not just because she belongs to me but because Campbell is a predator.
He doesn’t assault women physically, but instead he preys on weakness and insecurity, bleeding heiresses of their money until their bank accounts are empty and their hearts are broken. He’s worked the whole South, and despite his shitty reputation, women still fall for his schtick.
The corner of Petersburg’s mouth curls up in disdain. “What rock did you crawl out from under?”
“My boys! Great to see you again.” Campbell ignores Petersburg’s insult. “You looked great up there on stage.” He gives us a thumbs-up. “You missed all the jewels in the crowd. They were looking particularly delicious.”
“Say one thing about my sister—”
“Or mine,” butts in Petersburg.
“And you’ll be eating your dick for dinner,” I say flatly.
Campbell smiles. “Your sisters are safe from me, my friends. I’ve my eye on a different morsel. She’s lovely and unaffected.”
“Naïve, you mean.”
“You say tomato, I say tomahto.” He winks. “I’m off. Try not to be too dull with the ladies. They’re here for excitement, not to be bored to death. I know it will be a challenge given that one of you is a history teacher and the other has his nose so far up in the air that he’s about to tip over, but maybe you two will finally get laid if you listen to my advice.” He waggles his fingers and flounces past us.
Petersburg drums his fingers against his thigh, probably debating whether he could bash Campbell’s face in without causing a scene.
“I’ll help you hide the body,” I offer.
“I wish. We’d all be better off if he were gone.” Petersburg takes a frustrated breath. “As long as he stays away from Cecily, we’re good.”
“And Caro.” Campbell tends to prey on lonely single women, so realistically Caro is safe, but someone who might be in danger is Cinderella. Campbell was hovering in her vicinity during the auction. “I want to find my bidder. I’ll talk to you later, Petersburg. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” I say as I leave the other man behind.
Out in the main area, I search for the golden head, but the lights are low, and it’s crowded. I see my family waving at me to join them. I hold up a finger to tell them I’ll be with them in a sec. The auction payment table is set off to the side and near the rear. There aren’t many people around it, so I head there. A man and a woman greet me with beaming smiles.
“Mr. Fréres, we were so honored that you participated this year. Your winning bid was forty-five thousand dollars, and it will do so much for the children. Here—” She hands me my black card. “This was left at our table.”
I frown at the small rectangle. “What about the woman who won the bid?”
“Paislee Abbott?” chirps the woman. “She paid with her own card.”
“No, it was Rhodes. Her card said Rhodes,” interjects the man.
“Oh, Rhodes. That’s good.” So not the daughter of Abbott. That’s a relief. “Where is she?”
“Hmm.” The woman tilts her head, trying to find my buyer.
“I saw Mrs. Abbott over by the Rodin statue, admiring his, ah, clean lines.” The man coughs lightly into his fist.
“Perfect.”
Once I near the Rodin statue, the princess’s golden hair is easy to spot. She’s a bright spot in the dim room. As I’m watching, the golden head bobs slightly and then veers away from the group of people around the statue. Is she going to the bathroom? No, it looks like she’s headed toward the exit.
I start pushing past people, grateful that I’m a little taller and a little bigger than most. The crowd parts easily for me. Right when I see a clear path, a woman appears out of nowhere. Julia Bennett, beautiful, rich, and uninteresting, places a hand against her chest. “Gant Fréres. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I nod my head politely and step to the side. “Nice to see you, Julia. I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She reaches out and grabs hold of my arm. “I tried to bid on you.”
“That’s great.” I’m so glad Cinderella won. Bennett would eat me alive.
“I would’ve bid more, but I was distracted by the people next to me. The other person who was bidding tricked me into thinking that mine would be the winning bid, but she topped it before I knew what to do. I’m so sorry.”
The woman sounds distressed, but I don’t know why. I never asked her to bid. Not sure what to say, I give her another brief chin nod and try to move on.
“We should have dinner sometime. Tomorrow maybe,” she suggests.
“I’v
e got a curriculum to prepare,” I reply. The golden head has disappeared through the ballroom doors into the lobby. I need to shake Julia off.
“School is on break.”
“A schoolteacher is never on break.” I give her a tight smile and pull her hand gently, but firmly, away from my arm. “I am not available, Julia. I haven’t been before and I’m not now. Don’t mistake my act of charity for anything else.”
Julia gasps. “When did you get so rude?”
“Born this way,” I tell her. Mom won’t be thrilled that I’ve pissed off a potential customer, but if I wait for another second, I’m going to miss Paislee. I take off, this time moving faster, pushing people a little harder. Why in the hell are there so many people at this damn fundraiser? By the time I get to the lobby, it’s empty. No golden-haired princess is anywhere to be seen. Outside, there are doormen and valets retrieving cars and hailing taxis.
I bust out of the door and grab the first white-gloved male that’s available. “Blond-haired bombshell, yea high”—I position my hand just below my shoulder—“wearing a pink frothy concoction.”
“Yeah?”
“Where is she?”
“Man, I don’t know. I just drive the cars to and from the garage.” He shrugs me off. I make the rounds, asking each one of the bellmen and valets in turn, but they all can’t remember.
Frustrated, I stand at the top of the stairs, glaring at the night traffic streaming in and out of the circular drive in front of the National Museum of Contemporary Art where the benefit was held. Like Cinderella, Paislee has fled the ball, but she’s left behind more than a shoe. I have her name, and with that there’s no place she can hide from me.
Chapter Eight
Paislee
“Grandma!” I rush through this giant house in search of her. I’m starting to learn my way around here, but I swear I find a new hallway every other day. I come to a sliding halt when I run into my father. I usually try to avoid him at all costs but know it’s inevitable that I’ll run into him occasionally.
The look on his face when he sees me makes it perfectly clear that he’s not too fond of the idea of running into me either.
“Hi?” I say, not sure what else to say. I don’t have any sort of relationship with him. He made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me when I arrived.
“It wasn't enough that you came back here to try and ruin my family, but now you go and toss your existence into the news?” He scolds me like a child.
I actually do feel a touch bad about that. Not for my dad, but for his wife and kids. Me being here and in the public spotlight made it clear that my father cheated on his family. Even though my grandma has said that his wife is a bitch, I still feel bad for her. It can’t be fun for her to constantly be reminded of my father's indiscretions in the tabloids. You’ll never convince me that my mom knew he was married.
“I didn't know that would happen.” Never in a million years would I have thought people would be writing about me on a news site. They snapped some pictures too. It was why I was in search of my grandma.
The article wasn't the nicest. It gave a short rundown of who I am. Then it went on to post three pictures of me. Each of them featured me with a different man throughout the evening. The columnist guessing who my love interest might be. Another thing I never would have thought anyone would give a crap about. I was wrong.
“You don’t know because you don’t belong in this world,” he hisses out. I’d be lying if I said his words weren't a punch to my stomach. I’m unable to hide my flinch. “It doesn't help that you’re acting like a little—” He’s cut off by my grandma, who bursts into laughter.
“That’s rich coming from you,” she says while still laughing. “Glass houses and all.” She stops laughing. “If you’re not careful you won’t have a house for anyone to throw stones at. Choose your words more carefully when you’re speaking to my granddaughter, and don’t forget she’s your daughter.”
I can tell he wants to lash out at her but decides against it. I’m pretty sure she is the family's foundation. She calls all the shots here. I’m sure she could cut him off easily if she wanted to. From what I’ve learned about my father, I would bet he’s burned through whatever trust he might have had at one time. That’s only a guess, though.
“Father never would have—” The slap is loud. My mouth falls open in shock. Not only did she move fast but she landed a solid hit, putting my father in his place. Sometimes I wonder how the heck the two of them are even related with how much their personalities differ.
“You have no idea what your father would have thought.” My father holds his cheek as a stare-off ensues. I take a step back, wondering if I should go. These interactions make me uncomfortable. They also make me feel as though it’s my fault that they aren’t getting along.
“I have work to get done,” he grits out through his teeth before he stomps away like a child. My grandma turns to face me. The anger on her face is gone as she gives me a soft smile. It's the same way she always looks at me.
“Did you see the pictures? You looked stunning.”
“I saw them, but did you read the article?” I lift an eyebrow at her. She waves it off as if the words mean nothing.
“They are trying to get you to bite so you’ll tell them who you’re dating. Speaking of. When is your date?”
“What date?” I try to play it off. I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I’d thought about what it would be like to actually go on that date. But then I’d quickly pushed those thoughts aside knowing that no good would come of it.
“The one you bought.” She gives me a look letting me know that she knows that I’m trying to avoid the conversation. Of course she does. She is always a few steps ahead of everyone else. I’m sure it’s a skill she’s needed in order to remain in control of this family. Especially when it comes to dealing with my father and two half-brothers.
“I bought him as a favor. He asked me to help him, and I did. With how scary some of the women there were, can you blame him for approaching a stranger and handing over his credit card? He was desperate, and I just happened to be standing there at the moment.” My grandma gives me a look that tells me she’s not buying what I’m selling, so I decide to try another tactic.
“Come have lunch with me.” I take her arm to lead her toward the kitchen. We veer off to the side and head for the covered outside patio area. She always has tea waiting for us. I love the time we spend together out here. She walks over and takes a seat, and I do the same.
“I would agree with you about not going on the date if you had used his card, but you paid for it yourself, so now you have to go. The Fréreses might take it as an insult.” It suddenly clicks in my head.
“Fréres.” I repeat the last name. I know I saw it on his card last night. “That’s not connected to the wedding dressmaker, right?”
“It is. You’ve heard of it?”
I nod my head. “They have a bridal magazine they release every six months. My mom and I used to always get it and look at the dresses together.”
“It really is a small world,” Grandma says, taking a sip from her tea.
“I don’t know why, but I always had a thing for weddings. We’d look at the catalogs and pretend to plan my dream wedding. I still have them all. I even started making up designs myself.”
Grandma reaches out and takes my hand, giving it a small squeeze. “Well, then. If you want to have your dream wedding someday, you’ll have to start dating.” This is true. The problem with that is Grandma is always trying to set me up with these rich men. All the rich men I’ve met have not been good men. I don’t know how to tell her that is not something I’m looking for. It might insult her, and that is the last thing I’d ever want to do.
“I love you, Grandma, but I’m not going to force a date with a man who begged me to bid on him because he didn't want to go on a date to begin with.”
“I don't think Gant is going to be opposed to taking you o
n a date.”
“I’m not going to reach out to him and ask.” I pop a grape into my mouth. I’d die of embarrassment if I called him and asked if we were going on this date for him only to remind me that wasn't the deal.
“No, we don’t call, sweetheart.” She takes a sip of her tea. “We’ll wait for him to show up here.”
“You really think he’s going to show up here?” A smirk plays on my grandma’s lips. She’s up to something.
“Yes, I do. Sooner rather than later. I’m sure he’s seen the pictures too.” One had been with Gant. One I don’t remember the guy's name, and the other was with that creepy Sean guy.
“I think I’m missing something.” I pop a few more grapes into my mouth. I would think the article would turn him off to the idea of me.
“Most men don’t like to share.”
I bark out a laugh. “I don’t think Gant has any problem tracking down a date, Grandma. Not when there are women out there willing to pay to go on a date with him. Very beautiful women at that.” This only makes her smile bigger.
She's definitely up to something. I’m not sure what it is yet, but I know that it definitely has to do with Gant Fréres.
Chapter Nine
Gant
If Prince Charming lived in the modern world with camera phones and online tabloid gossip columnists, he wouldn’t have had to go house to house with a glass slipper like a traveling salesperson. All he would have had to do is open his phone and read the numerous messages from friends and acquaintances about the mystery woman at the children foundation’s charity ball.
An Abbott!
She’s probably not the only illegitimate kid he has.
At least she wasn’t raised with them. Maybe she’s normal.
I saw her last night. She’s not that pretty.
That lie was from Supreme Dering, who tries arduously to live up to her name. I replied swiftly, You’re right. She’s not pretty. She’s gorgeous.