If The Shoe Fits (Some Girls Do It Book 8)

by May Sage

  "You guys actually do that? I thought it only happened in movies."

  "Whatever makes them feel good about dropping a six-figure check." Cassie shrugged. "I'll auction one, too."

  "And let me guess: Carter will outbid everyone."

  Her sister's smile said it all.

  "Sure, sign me up," Helene said.

  Cassie's eyes widened again. She visibly hadn't expected a favorable answer—at least not yet. "Really?"

  "It's just a dance." Helene owed Cassie, big time. If she could do anything to help her out, she would. "If they try to cop a feel, I'll kick them in the balls, though."

  "Fair."

  Cassie and Carter had purchased an elegant townhouse in the Upper East Side, right off Fifth avenue. Well, they called it a townhouse. Helene called it a mansion. They could see the park from the west facing windows, but their entrance was on 69th Street. Cassie said she liked it that way—there was less traffic driving right in front of her doors every day. Helene still had nightmares about the time when she'd asked the price tag of the property. She wasn't even certain how to write the number—she'd never had any reason to write down so many zeros. The formal entry was larger than Helene's old flat. Farther into the house, at the rear, there was a great hall generally shut off, but today it was blazing with light when they walked down the curved staircase.

  "How many people have you invited?" Helene whispered to her sister, spotting dozens of people, and hearing far more from other parts of the house. The entryway and hall didn't even seem all that busy; they were large enough to comfortably entertain a crowd twice as large.

  "I'm not sure. About two hundred, I think?"

  Two hundred people. It would have been a struggle to fit a dozen people in her old apartment.

  They might have been sisters, only four years apart, but Cassie and Helene inhabited different stratospheres. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Helen caught a glimpse of the two of them in a gilded mirror. Cassie was wearing a bloodred gown with a folded sweetheart neckline, gathered at the waist and falling into a full skirt, like a princess. It might just be pretend, but for one night, at least, they looked like sisters again, although it was just an illusion.

  "Cassandra!" An older woman converged toward them, taking both of Cassie's hands in hers. "What a marvelous reception. You simply must tell me who did the canapes, dear."

  "Why, thank you, Mrs. Nash. We used the caterer you recommended. They're a delight."

  Helene blinked in surprise. She barely recognized her sister's voice, or her studied smile. More women approached, to praise one thing or another, and Cassie received them like they were all long-lost friends, addressing them all by name, though they all seemed twice her age. They'd aged nicely, though. Nicole Kidman would have fit in perfectly with this crowd. Come to think of it, the ethereal redhead on the other side of the room might very well be the actress.

  Slowly, they moved to the hall. Helene followed, mesmerized by the girl who wasn't quite her sister anymore. Servers offered her flutes of champagne. She snatched one up, and sipped at it as she watched the show, frowning.

  Something bothered her in this picture. Cassie didn't seem…real. Or happy. She didn't want her sister to turn into a Stepford wife.

  "Tedious, right?"

  Helene's head turned to a voice she recognized. She laughed, embracing Lara Harris, Carter's mother. The woman hugged her back, tight. The tall brunette was wearing black dress pants, a silk blouse paired with a diamond necklace, and her natural elegance made her stand out more than any of the blonde carbon copies crowding Cassie.

  "And then some. I can't believe you're here. You're too cool for functions like these."

  Lara laughed. "Ain't that the truth, sugar. I had to come to show my support. The harpies won't ever leave Cassie alone unless they have another Harris to latch on to." She waved at one of the ladies around Cassie, and immediately, the woman rushed toward them. "This is Anne Lowerlly, formerly Payton, formerly Towell, now sleeping with Daniel Croft," she whispered, before the woman reached her. "Anne! Have you met Helene?"

  The blonde lady looked her up and down, assessing everything from her shoes to her dress, then managed a brief smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Charmed. And you are?"

  "She's Cassie's sister, dear. Helene's family."

  Anne's surprise didn't come as a shock. Cassie was naturally blonde, like their dad, and Helene had inherited their mother's dark waves. That said, they had the same green eyes and pert nose. Helene's mouth was wider and fuller than Cassie’s. Overall, side by side, they did look like family, but their resemblance wasn't obvious.

  "Wonderful. And what do you do, dear?"

  Helene didn't know why she didn't want to answer. She wasn't ashamed of her job. She liked it. Right?

  After a second passed, Lara said, "She works in cosmetics. Helene's a magician. She found me a cream that got rid of my laugh lines in no time. Her brand's exclusive—they usually work directly with Hollywood or catwalk shows—but she makes sure to supply what I need."

  Damn. While Lara's description was entirely accurate, Helene wouldn't have managed to make her job sound nearly as glamorous. With renewed interest, Anne engaged her in a conversation about skin complexions and the evil of sunburns. That, she could manage. Other ladies joined them, and after a while, Helene had to admit that this wasn't so hard. There were about a million places where she would have preferred to be, but while it wasn't interesting or enjoyable, these women certainly knew how to engage in shallow conversations.

  She observed the benefit. All the women wore dresses worth as much as a price of a brand-new car, and their husbands were either extremely beautiful, or extremely rich. She spotted some of Cassie's friends she knew and liked—Anna, Tessa, Tori, and Amy—but they all seemed pinned to their corner of the room by several well-intentioned women. An hour must have passed before she managed to excuse herself. "I'd better see if my sister needs me."

  Cassie had snuck away from her posse. Helene found her rushing to the other end of the hall. "Oh, good, you're here." Cassie grabbed her hands. "We'd better start the auctions, or we'll never get anything done. Have you seen Amy?"

  "She was with Tori and Bryant Parker a minute ago."

  Cassie twisted on her heels till she spotted the beautiful black woman. She waved her hand, catching her attention. Amy joined them after battling through the crowd. "Is it time for the torture?" she grumbled.

  Oh, she must have volunteered for the stupid dance auction, too.

  "We were supposed to start at seven, and it's already half past. If we want them out of here by midnight, we have to get going," Cassie whispered. "Where's Carter?"

  Her husband appeared on cue, sliding behind her. "I see you managed to get away from the flock."

  "Barely. Is everything ready? Can we get the auction started?"

  Carter nodded. "We had an issue with the Ming vase delivery, but it just arrived."

  So, they weren't just putting dances up for sale. And a good thing, too. Helene couldn't imagine they were going to bring much money.

  Carter leaped on the lone chair left in the room—a heavy brocade piece that didn't go with their townhome’s sparse, modern furnishings. They must only use antiques like these to impress this crowd. Cassie handed him a knife from one of the buffet table, and he tapped it against his crystal flute.

  The room fell into silence, and the attention of their guests focused on him. "All right, people. Not that I have anything against you drinking my champagne and eating petit fours until the end of time, but we're all here for a reason." The crowd chuckled, which must have been the intended effect. "Millions of people state wide lost their jobs last year. Many of them struggle to feed their families. With your help, the Harris Foundation intends to send a care package including cash vouchers and everyday necessities to thousands of households across the country. We're the lucky ones. Tomorrow, the tide could shift. Bid generously, ladies, gentlemen."

  He got down from the c
hair, and placed it on a raised platform behind him. Though it hadn't been there just yesterday, it looked like a proper royal dais, rather than a makeshift stand.

  A solemn older man dressed in a formal tux walked to the dais, holding an object covered by a black silk sheet. He uncovered it somewhat dramatically, and the crowd clapped again. Helene grimaced. He was holding a vase. It was white, with a blue dragon on it. "A certified fifteenth-century Ming Dynasty vase, donated by Vincent Coburn. The bidding starts at five million. Five million, to Mr. Teneth, do I hear six? Six million to Mrs. Alberfoth. Seven? Seven to Sir Francis Dwayne. Eight? Mr. Slade, eight million. Do I hear—"

  "Fifteen million!" a woman screamed.

  "Fifteen million to Mrs. Bennet. Sixteen? Sixteen to—"

  Helene lost track of time. She didn't even understand how the guy could recognize all these people at one glance, or follow the wild trail of bids. In less than twenty minutes, someone purchased the vase for twenty-nine million dollars.

  More than what she'd earn in her entire lifetime.

  She was going to need a hell of a lot more champagne to get through this.

  Cade

  The auction kicked off with an eyesore of a Ming vase, just as Cade made it to the Harris mansion. He'd arrived late enough to not have to suffer through too much nonsense, then. After publicly spending a suitable amount, he'd be free to excuse himself fast enough. He still wanted to meet Slade if he could, but he wouldn't have to stay long.

  The house was suitably intimidating, with its high walls and sculpted ceiling, but Cade had to admit it wasn't nearly as ostentatious as he would have expected. The Harrises might be new money, but they knew better than to flaunt it. He liked the simple—if exorbitant—decor of the open rooms on the ground floor. The kitchen was efficient, the music room, simple, with a grand piano dominating the space, and two comfortable sofas nestled against the walls. The art hung on the walls were modern and uplifting, perhaps a little more sensual that was suitable. They hadn't purchased a Norman Rockwell original, or anything so cliche. He approved.

  His eye twitched when he walked in and recognized most of the crowd at first glance. He liked to avoid all of these people.

  "Cade, son! How's the family?"

  "Arnold. I'd wager you saw my father more recently than I did."

  "He'd better be at tee time tomorrow. He trounced us all last week."

  Golf. Cade laughed, as though he wasn't considering gouging his eyes out just to get out of the tiresome conversation. He internally cursed James for making him attend tonight's event. His friend knew he couldn't stand this crowd. Cade knew how to behave in society; he'd been attending gatherings such as this one since the moment he could walk, but since getting his hands on his trust fund, his sole purpose in life had been attending as few benefits are possible.

  After selling a Klimt, a tiara boasting a fist-size sapphire and raindrop diamonds that would have made Richelle drool, and a weekend at the Kings' island down in the Caribbean, the auctioneer offered a fully custom Bugatti. Cade lifted his paddle. He wasn't one for such status symbols, but he didn't doubt James would find a way to make use of a new car. He had to bid on something, anyway. He lost to a new-money guy, unwilling to go over ten million for a car, pretty as it was. He knew James would have kept going, unwilling to ever lose anything, but Cade was considerably more practical. The next item was an outfit that Marilyn Monroe had worn to one event or another. Cade couldn't bring himself to bid, although he could have pawned it off on his sister. He was going to end up going home without anything, if things continued. No matter, he could still write a blank check. As long as the amount was high enough, their company would be talked about.

  "Cade Lawson, am I right?"

  Cade turned to face a stranger he had no issue recognizing. William Slade, accompanied by his luscious, murderous wife. The woman had killed two of Slade's competitors with her bare hands—in self-defense, according to the witness. Seeing her in person, Cade had no idea how such a small, dainty female had managed to garner such a reputation.

  "William Slade," Cade countered, offering his hand, after inclining his head to the pretty wife.

  "Liam, please. It's a rare pleasure. I don't think I've ever seen you anywhere other than on the cover of a tech magazine."

  Cade managed a half smile. "I keep busy. My sister accuses me of being allergic to fun."

  The man laughed good humoredly. "Well, I wouldn't call this fun, exactly. But I do like Harris, and everything he's trying to achieve for the world."

  "His wife is a delight, too," Liam's woman added. "I love her books."

  Cade knew the woman wrote, but he had no idea what any of her books were about. When he had time to read, he caught up with his favorite thriller and science-fiction authors.

  "I can't say I've read any of them, yet, but Cassie's lovely." He'd only seen her once or twice in passing, but she'd seemed lively and charming enough. Besides, there wasn't anything else to say about socialites these days. They were all perfectly lovely. Beautiful, worldly, agreeable to talk to, and positively boring.

  "Finally, our hostess and a few of our charming ladies will be auctioning their first dance. I present to you Cassandra Harris."

  Speak of the devil. Wrapped in a red dress, the blonde advanced on the dais with all the aplomb of a catwalk model. Someone started to clap, and they all joined politely. Encouraged, Cassie spun on her heels, and grinned, waving her hand.

  "We'll start at ten thousand. Ten thousand to Mr. Harris. Do I hear fifteen? Fifteen thousand to Mr. Slade."

  Cade glanced at Liam, who grinned. "Don't mind me. I enjoy ruffling Carter's feathers."

  He wasn't the only one. Several others bid, higher and higher. In no time, Cassie's first dance was worth two hundred thousand dollars. Undeterred, Slade raised his paddle again.

  Carter Harris lifted his, and yelled, "One million!"

  The rest of the room erupted in claps, and chuckles. "Aren't you getting it for free, these days?" Liam called back. "Let the rest of us enjoy your wife, for once."

  "Only if you're willing to share yours, fucker," Carter shot back.

  Liam seemed to find that joke far less funny.

  "One million going once. Going twice…"

  "One million, one hundred thousand, dammit."

  Carter shot Liam the middle finger, but let him win Cassie's dance, to the cheers of the crowd.

  Cade was surprised to realize he was enjoying himself more than he would have thought he would tonight. While the usual crowd was certainly as tedious as ever, there were also a few younger businessmen in attendance. He knew most in passing, but Liam had been right: Cade didn't make a habit of socializing if he could help it. They seemed nice enough though.

  "Next up, a late entry: our hostess's sister, Helene Franklin."

  Cade was certain that the room kept chattering, clapping, or laughing, but he didn't hear a thing or see a thing other than the woman advancing on the platform, as her sister left it. Cassie took her hand in passing and squeezed it. They exchanged a sweet, secretive smile, before Helene joined the auctioneer.

  Taller than Cassie, and with soft dark waves rather than a sleek platinum bob, the two women looked nothing alike. Hell, Helene didn't look like anyone else here. Her beauty was unadorned, too natural for the rest of this crowd. She was dressed in a long blue gown that gave a glimpse of her endless leg with each of her steps. There were no diamonds at her throat or ears, and her face wasn't painted in layers of makeup—that he could tell. Cade realized men knew nothing about matters such as make up—but hers, if she had any on, complemented her, rather than turning her into something else. No distraction deterred from her raw beauty.

  It took him several moments to realize she was the girl—the one he'd met Monday, the one he'd thought about for most of the week. What were the chances that he'd see her again without purposely seeking her out, and here, of all places?

  Cade had to admit, he'd considered returning to Vandorf, Inc. F
ind some excuse, and ask her out if he bumped into her again. She'd had that much of an impact on him, in one short moment at the elevator. Seeing her now, he was stunned into stillness, incapable of moving, speaking, or thinking.

  "One hundred and seventy thousand, to Mr. Thwayn, do I hear one eighty?"

  The auction had already started by the time he finally regained some awareness of his surroundings. Numb, he lifted his paddle.

  "One hundred and eighty thousand, to Mr. Lawson, do I hear One ninety? One ninety to Ms. Glenn. Two hundred thousand? Two hundred for Mr. Lawson. Do I hear—"

  Cade kept raising his arm, his eyes remaining on the woman. Helene Franklin. She looked ahead, far in the distance, not catching anyone's eyes, as if she were too good for the rest of them.

  Fuck this.

  He might have been too quick to mock Carter, after all.

  "One million."

  Helene

  She was going to faint. Or throw up. Either option struck her as particularly dramatic, but in her opinion, they were appropriate reactions. One million dollars. Some guy wanted to spend one million dollars to dance with her for five minutes. Had someone told him that blowjobs weren't included in the package? Not that her blowjobs were worth one million freaking dollars, either. Helene wasn't aware of the rate blowjobs went for these days, but if they were this expensive, maybe she should consider a drastic career change.

  Helene was half awed, half pissed. These people truly came from another universe. They might as well be aliens. Here she was, struggling to put together the funds to rent out an overpriced closet in the city, but some old guy with a beer belly dared waste that kind of cash on a damn dance. How was that fair?

  She had to admit she wasn't being entirely fair. The cash was going to help dozens of households. It was a good thing. She was just having a hard time not feeling salty about her circumstances in this crowd. How had Cassie adapted to all this? Helene wasn't sure she ever could.