by Hannah Ford
“No problem,” Rachel said warmly. “Anyway, I have to go into work, but I’ll see you next week! And don’t mention it to Nessa, I want to keep it a surprise.”
“Of course.”
I hung up the phone, my mind reeling. Was it possible that Rachel didn’t know about her mom’s health scare? That maybe for some reason Nessa and her mom had decided not to tell her? But that didn’t make any sense. Nessa had specifically said that her mom and her sister were both coming to the city for her mom’s doctor’s appointment.
It was very strange.
I tapped out a quick text to Nessa.
Hey – Call me when you get a chance, okay? I want to talk.
I sent the text and waited, just in case Nessa decided to text me back right away.
“Shouldn’t you be at your desk?” a snooty voice behind me demanded.
I turned around. Kiersten was standing in the hallway, looking fiercer than ever in a pair of black leather pants and a long sleeveless caramel-colored turtleneck sweater with sparkly threads weaved through the knit.
“Oh,” I said, smoothing my skirt down and sliding my phone back into my purse. “I’m sorry, I just … that was an emergency.”
“You seem to be having a lot of emergencies lately,” she said, and I knew she was talking about the other day, when I was late to work and told her I had a family emergency.
I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could, Kiersten cut me off. “Whatever,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Look, I need to talk to you about the event tonight.”
“Okay.”
“This event is very important to Archway, I don’t think I have to tell you that.”
“You don’t.”
“I expect that everyone there will be on their most professional behavior.”
“Of course.” I raised my chin and met her eyes. I knew she was talking about Callum. But if she was worried that I was going to mess something up for her because of Callum, she was wrong. I wasn’t going to let my relationship with him get in the way of the event tonight. I wasn’t even sure if he was going tonight.
“Good.” Kiersten leveled her gaze at me. “I’m going to need you to make sure you’re friendly with all of our writers. I’m going to be very busy, and I’m going to need you to make sure you’re socializing and making everyone feel comfortable.”
My stomach turned and twisted again. Was she talking about Dean Bellingham? Had I somehow gotten it wrong about Kiersten and Dean, about the two of them being involved with one another? Had Kiersten turned out to be on Mr. Kelly’s team now, expecting me to offer myself to Dean like some kind of prostitute?
“I’m not sure what you mean, “ I said slowly.
She was on her phone now, typing in a text to someone, her features knotting together as her fingers moved quickly over her keypad. “I’m going to need you to keep an eye on Aubrey Zane.”
“What?”
Kiersten glanced up sharply from her phone. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Kiersten,” I said. “I’m willing to work hard for you. But Aubrey is… I mean, her and I…” I trailed off and gave her a pointed look, but Kiersten just stared at me blankly. She knew damn well what had happened between me and Aubrey, had seen Aubrey dump a cup of hot coffee all over me because she’d seen me with Callum.
“I’m really not interested in your personal problems,” Kiersten said, shrugging. “You’re the one who decided to mix your personal life with your work life, not me. Now, if you’d asked me my opinion, I would have told you that was a horrible idea, that you should never mix business with pleasure. But you didn’t bother to ask my opinion.”
“Fine,” I said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I’ll take care of Aubrey.”
Kiersten looked taken aback, and then her eyes softened just a little bit. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, surprised by her reaction.
“I know Aubrey can be a handful.”
“She’s not anything I can’t handle.” It was a lie. Of course I couldn’t handle Aubrey. She was a beautiful, famous pop star who was interested in Callum and she was totally crazy. She’d tried to burn me with a cup of coffee. Okay, maybe that was a little over the top, but she’d at least tried to drench me.
But I sensed something here, some tiny chance at an opening with Kiersten. If tonight went well, I had the feeling that maybe my career might be on its way to getting back on track. And if that meant I would have to deal with Aubrey Zane for the night, then so be it.
“Really?” Kiersten sounded skeptical, but she also seemed a little impressed. “I hope you’re right.”
“I am.”
“We’ll see.” She sounded flippant, but not bitchy.
And for the rest of the day, she took me off busy work, and put me on drawing up a publicity plan for a new young adult book about drug addiction.
* * *
When I got out of work, it was after five, and I only had a couple of hours before I had to be at the New York Public Library ballroom for the Celebration of Writing.
I rushed back to my apartment, nodding at the doorman in the lobby, who tipped his hat to me and said, “Hello, Ms. O’Connor. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
“Mr. Wilder left this for you.” He slid a tiny envelope across the counter to me. Inside was a copy of the key to the apartment, and a note.
Your dress is waiting upstairs. A car will pick you up for the event at 7:00.
~C
“Thank you, um…”
“Kyle,” the doorman said with a smile. “Call down if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Sure enough, there was a garment bag waiting for me in the hallway. I unzipped it and gasped.
The dress inside was absolutely gorgeous.
Black and sleek, with a simple neckline and clean lines, it was sophisticated and chic and just… absolutely perfect. The tag was still attached, and I almost had a heart attack when I looked at it.
5,600 dollars.
For a freakin’ dress.
That I would probably wear once.
I sent a text to Callum thanking him, and asking him if he planned on going to the dinner. I hadn’t heard from him all day, and it was starting to make me antsy. I knew he’d said he had a busy day, but I’d been at least hoping for a text or something at some point. Especially since I knew he’d been at Rose’s funeral.
Not hearing from him made me crazy.
I took a quick shower and dried my hair.
While I’d been at work, the bathroom had been stocked with make-up and moisturizer (most likely by some nameless, faceless assistant) in every shade and high-end brand imaginable -- Clinique and Nars and Urban Decay and Naked and Perricone. I did my make-up carefully, going a little more intense than I usually would, lining my eyes with a black Nars liner and swiping a smoky and dark Mac shadow over my lids. I slipped into the dress Callum had left me and slid my feet into the black Christian Loubitin heels that had come with it.
As I stood outside my apartment building and hailed a cab, I felt, for the first time ever, like I was a real New Yorker. Like I really belonged. Oh, I knew that money and clothes didn’t make you belong somewhere – I wasn’t that naïve.
It was more that for the first time, I felt like I knew where I was going in life, like I had a direction.
When we pulled up in front of the library, I paid the driver and stepped onto the curb.
I shivered in anticipation as I stared at the stone lions that flanked the steps that led up to the building, not quite able to believe that I was here, at an event that up until recently, I’d only dreamed about.
I took in a deep breath of the crisp night air, not even minding the smell of the taxi exhaust that was constant in New York. Maybe I was getting used to it.
The only thing clouding the moment was the fact that I still hadn’t heard from Callum.
About to go into the dinner now.
I sent the text, trying not to let myself think about how disappointed I was that he wasn’t here. Before I could talk myself out of it, I dialed his cell.
It went to voicemail.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s me. I’m going into the event now, I didn’t know if you were coming or not. Either way, I just… I guess I’ll see you later. Thanks again for the dress. I hope you’re okay.” I hesitated for a second, then hung up the phone and headed down the sidewalk toward the library.
The street was filled with limos and town cars, and I rushed by them and hurried up the stairs, stopping outside the double doors to check my phone once more.
That’s when it happened.
A hand on my arm.
A person stepping out of the shadows.
A voice, low and growly. “Hey there.”
The hand on my arm dug deeper into my flesh, and a shiver of fear slid up my spine at the same moment my head snapped up and my eyes locked on the person who was holding my arm.
Jason.
I recognized him immediately. He was grabbing me just like he had that night at the bookstore, the night he’d asked me for Callum’s phone number.
“We meet again,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion as his grip on me intensified.
“Let go of me,” I said, trying to wrench out of his grasp.
But he didn’t let go. Instead, his fingernails dug deeper into my flesh, and it was almost familiar now as I remembered exactly how it had felt that night at the bookstore, how scared I’d been. My heart pounded an unsteady rhythm in my chest now, the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
“Stop,” he said. “Just stop. Stop and listen to me.” He leaned in close, so close I could feel his breath on my neck. He smelled like peppermint and licorice, which was a weird contrast to the dangerousness in his voice. It was unsettling, realizing someone who was so put together on the outside could be so obviously unhinged on the inside.
I froze like a deer in the headlights.
“I want his number,” Jason rasped into my ear.
“I don’t have it,” I lied. “Please, you’re hurting me.” I tried to wrench out his grasp again, and again he dug into me harder.
“Don’t be a lying bitch,” he said. “Don’t you understand this is what he does to people? He makes you think he’s your friend, he makes you think he’s going to do right by you, but he won’t.”
“Please let go,” I pleaded, and now hot tears were filling my eyes and I was praying, hoping that someone would come out here and see me.
But the steps outside were empty, although inside I could hear the soft murmur of voices drifting through the doors to the outside.
Scream.
The thought hit me like a ton of bricks, so startling in its simplicity that it almost took my breath away.
I pulled in a breath and screamed at the top of my lungs.
Immediately, Jason released me. “You crazy bitch,” he said, sounding stunned at the fact that I would dare to do such a thing.
I moved away from him, stepping out of his reach just as he pulled back and spit on me, drops of his saliva hitting my neck before he turned and ran.
I gasped at the disgustingness of it, and then I stumbled backwards, the heel of my right shoe slipping off the edge of the stone step. My tailbone scraped against the side of the stairs and then I tipped forward, somehow landing on my knees.
Stinging pain rushed through my skin like a brush fire.
I tried to keep my eyes focused on the ground before me, but it swirled into a weird pattern and I blinked twice, seeing stars.
Then suddenly, someone was in front of me, a pair of black shiny shoes and black pants, and someone’s hands were on me, and pulling me up, helping me until I was right side up and sitting on the steps.
I looked up.
Dean Bellingham stood in front of me, concern clouding his face.
“Oh,” he said, seemingly startled when he saw it was me. “Adriana. Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I said, dazed. I glanced down at my knee. It was scraped, circles of blood dotting my skin like pinpricks.
Dean crouched down next to me and looked at my knee. “Did you fall?”
“No,” I said. “Yes, I mean, I did fall, but there was this man...” I trailed off, not sure exactly how I was supposed to explain it.
“What?” Dean stood up and glanced around, his eyes scanning the area. “What man?”
“He’s gone,” I said. I thought about whether or not I should tell him the truth. He would insist on calling the police. The police would come, they would ruin my night, they would spend a long time taking statements and then what? I stood up, but I was wobbly on my feet, and the shoes weren’t helping. “I’m fine,” I said. “Really, it’s nothing, I’m just clumsy.”
He looked at me skeptically, but then he nodded, obviously willing to let it go. “Okay,” he said simply. “Do you think you can walk inside?”
“Yes.” I nodded and he took me by the crook of my arm and led me up the stairs. Now that I was starting to calm down and get my bearings back, I was starting to think that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea for me to be walking into this event with a man who might have been interested in sleeping with me. Especially one who might have slept with my boss.
“Go sit over there,” Dean said once we were inside the marble lobby, pointing to a wooden bench against the wall. “I’ll be right back.”
I sat down and when Dean returned a couple of minutes later, he was carrying a bottle of water, some napkins, and a band-aid.
“Where did you get that?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I have super powers.”
He cleaned my knee off then laid the band-aid over my scrape.
“Thanks,” I said, tugging at my dress. The hem almost covered the wound.
“No problem.”
The lobby was getting busy now and people were streaming by us, all of them dressed to the nines, the women in gowns and chic sheath dresses, their pearls and diamonds sparkling under the lights, the men in dark suits and fancy cufflinks.
“Shall we go into the ballroom?” Dean asked. He was holding his hand out to me, and I hesitated.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is something else wrong?”
I squared my shoulders. “I know that you called Mr. Kelly, my publisher, and asked him to set up a meeting with me.”
“And?” Dean asked.
“And I need to let you know that I’m not willing to get ahead by any means necessary. I’m also not willing to do anything that might hurt Kiersten.”
Dean looked confused, and then he laughed. “You thought I wanted to sleep with you?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No!” He shook his head. “I just thought it might be nice if the two of us had a meeting. Like I told you outside the restaurant that day, I’ve found that it’s usually the assistants or junior employees who have the best ideas. Wow, you must think I’m a real jerk.”
“No,” I said. “It was just confusing, that’s all.” I bit my bottom lip. “So you didn’t send me flowers then?”
“No, I didn’t send you flowers. Listen, I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, Adriana. I can ask that we not work together if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, no,” I said quickly. The last thing I needed was Dean telling Kiersten that he couldn’t work with me. As much as she would love having him to herself, she’d also love to turn something like that around to make it seem like I’d done something wrong. “It’s fine.”
“Should we go in?” he asked.
I nodded.
When we reached the entrance to the ballroom, my breath caught in my chest at the opulence. Small round tables with black tablecloths and flickering candles in the middle of each one were set up across the room, and smartly dressed waiters weaved their way through them, refilling water glasses an
d serving appetizers.
The room was almost full.
“Shall we find our seats?” Dean asked.
I nodded.
He placed his hand on my back as he began leading me through the crowd, and I almost froze. It was a light touch, nothing skeezy about it. But still. Something about the way he was touching me felt like the way a boyfriend would touch you, and a frisson of anxiety snaked its way through my body.
As we got closer to our table, I spotted Kiersten sitting next to Aubrey Zane. Kiersten looked up and gave me a look, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. Great. Now she was mad at me not only for coming in with Dean, but also for leaving her to deal with Aubrey.
“Dean,” Kiersten said smoothly when she saw him.
“Hey, Dean,” Aubrey said, in a tone of voice that made it clear that the two of them already knew each other. She took a sip of the drink that was in front of her, something pink and sparkly, and her eyes slid down to Dean’s hand on my back. “Adriana.” She smirked.
My face flamed.
But Dean didn’t make a move to take his hand from my back. Instead he kept it firmly on me as he nodded a greeting to Kiersten and Aubrey while pulling my chair out for me.
And then, suddenly, someone was yanking Dean away from me.
“Get your fucking hands off of her.”
I turned around.
Callum.
He was standing there, his eyes blazing with anger.
“What the fuck, man?” Dean asked.
“Don’t touch her,” Callum growled. His eyes were wild, his hair mussed. My heart pounded with panic. I took a step toward him and the scent of alcohol hit my nose.
“Dude, you’re drunk,” Dean said, and he took a step toward Callum, holding his hands up in an effort to calm Callum down. “Come on, let me call you a cab and get you home. You can sleep it off.”
Dean took another step toward Callum, but Callum spun around and swung at him, punching him right in the face. Dean went flying across the room into our table, knocking it over and spilling Aubrey’s drink all over Kiersten’s lap.