by Kat Bastion
“Longest day of my life.”
“You’re being overly dramatic. And you’re forgetting you just watched your son win his first ever one-day tournament.”
Her shoulders slumped, voice neutralizing, “What am I supposed to do? I’ve never been on my own before. I don’t even know where to begin.”
“You’ll manage.”
“Where do I start?”
“You should start by being nicer to Shay.” Yeah, I swung that full circle.
Her voiced steeled. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I care about her. A lot.” I shot her a nonnegotiable glare. “If you care about me, if you want me to care about you enough to improve our relationship, then you will care about her.”
No idea where that ultimatum had come from, but the moment it shot out of my mouth, it worked for me. If my mother was willing to put in a genuine effort for Shay, then I would do the same for my mother.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I dipped a respectful nod toward her. “I have to drink, eat, shower, and change. There’s a gala tonight.”
At which, since I’d become the unofficial guest of honor, all eyes would be on me.
Me? I planned to be all about Shay.
“Hey, Ben.”
I glanced toward a soft and unfamiliar lilting voice, almost two hours after I’d last seen Shay and Kiki.
A pretty young girl stood ten feet away in the wide hallway, beside a potted palm. She wore a conservative pale-blue party dress with a white sash tied at the waist in a perfect bow. Shining blond hair had been sleeked down into a single sparkling barrette that dangled three fat spirals.
Do I know you? My brows twitched down in confusion.
Vibrant blue eyes hardened a split second before she shot me an incredibly familiar duh expression. But before, it hadn’t come from a four-foot-something girl.
Then it hit me. And I blinked, amazed. “Trin?”
“Gotcha.” She grinned with pride.
“Yeah, ya did.”
Her expression grew serious in an instant as her chin dipped down in a satisfied nod. Then with an inspecting gaze of herself that swept downward, she plucked both sides of her dress toward the bottom and pulled it wide. “This is the work of Kiki and Shay. Well, mostly Kiki.”
As if the dress itself was the magic and not the transformed girl wearing it.
Kiki took her fairy godmothering seriously.
“You look very beautiful, Trin.”
She stared at me a long moment and tilted her head, as if she evaluated the compliment. “Thanks.” Then her eyes narrowed, and her critical gaze scanned me from head to toe. “You look cool. Kinda James Bond-ish.”
I gave a slight tug to the lapels of my tuxedo jacket. “Thank you.” After a beat, I leaned down a little. “Only for the most important ladies in my life.”
Her brows raised slightly, her head turned a little, and she adopted a coy expression while she pointed at herself and mouthed me?
“Definitely and especially you.”
I folded my arms and leaned down a little further. “Someone else, too. Maybe you know where I can find her? About yay tall” —I cut a bent hand into the air at my shoulder height— “dark hair, green eyes...smart mouth.”
She leaned closer toward me and whispered, “She’ll find you.”
Of course. Control.
Music from a live band began to stream out through open double doors that led into the ballroom. I tilted my head toward the festivities and held out my hand. “Would you do me the honor of my first celebration dance?”
Without hesitation, her small hand slapped onto mine. “You bet I would.” Then she shot me a sideways glare. “But we are not grown-up dancing.”
I coughed out a laugh and shook my head. “Wouldn’t dream of it. How ’bout we let you lead?”
That small hand had an amazing grip as it led me to the exact center of the dance floor, then broke away to stab a finger against my sternum. She took a giant step backward. “Ready?”
It was early; dinner had yet to be served. The music had just begun playing, rhythm upbeat. And we stood in the middle of an empty dance floor in a large ballroom...alone.
And I didn’t give one flying fuck who saw me. Reveled in it, actually.
I gave her a solid nod. “Ready.”
Trin began some random jerky movements: shoulders bounced, knees knocked, elbows flared. The entire time, her head was thrown back, eyes closed, easy smile on her face.
Shameless, wild...free.
Her eyes cracked open, her entire body froze, and she shot me an even heavier Duh! expression.
I grinned and tapped into the crazy, reckless part of me Shay had helped me discover.
Then as if on their own puppeted strings, one of my hands jerked wide, then the other. My left hip shoved sideways. My right foot kicked out.
“Yes!” Trin jumped straight up in the air, landed with her shiny white shoes spread shoulder width apart, then immediately mimicked my wilder spastic dance moves.
A crowd soon gathered, half of them watching in amazement at our choreographed epileptic fits to music, the other half making their best attempt to join in the fun.
The band played another fast-tempo song to pander to their crowd before they wound the rhythm down into something much slower.
Trin propped her hands on her hips and eyed me warily. “No grown-up dancing.”
“Understood.” And so I did the only thing one should, given the once-in-a-lifetime circumstances. I downshifted into a slo-mo version. Each one-tenth paced hand-jerk, hip-shove, and foot-kick was executed with smooth precision, like some remedial Tai Chi student.
Trin busted out laughing.
The thick crowd around her began to part, and flowing black material appeared behind her pale-blue dress.
I froze, bent arm stuck out at a ninety-degree angle, as my gaze traveled up over sexy curves, glowing skin, upswept dark hair, and emerald eyes that glittered with amusement as they captured mine. Whoa. “Beautiful.” All I could manage.
She cast an affectionate gaze toward Trin. “May I cut in?”
“About time,” Trin huffed as she smoothed her palms down the surface of her blue dress, as if she’d been inconvenienced. “Dudes in tuxes are walkin’ around here with silver trays of crackers with tasty-lookin’ toppings on ’em. I need to lighten their load.”
Shay fought a smile. “They’ve brought those hors d’oeuvres out for you to take. You don’t have to steal them.”
“Says you.” Trin scanned the room and dipped a nod at one possible target, then a second. “I’m feeling like playing a game I’ve just invented called Dash-N-Dine.”
Without further explanation, Trin aimed toward the nearest waiter and vanished into the crowd of people.
Shay’s attention finally landed back on me. She stepped forward and cocked her head, eyeing my chicken-wing arm. “You want me to work with that?”
I lowered my protruding elbow to my side, then held out my hands in the more traditional male dance position. “Better?”
She slid her hands into mine, but tightened our stance as she pressed her incredible body flush against mine. “You tell me.”
“Yeah. Way better.” All I want. You and me, dancing. The rest of the room can take a hike.
Except Trin...
And her waiters...
I exhaled a resigned breath, remembering why Shay had convinced me into playing in the first place. And then my chest burned with gratitude for the incredible week we’d had together because of it.
“Why the big sigh?” She nipped my earlobe with her teeth.
“Happy.”
“Sure?” A low hum vibrated against my neck. “Sounds a bit like frustration.”
“Wish things were a little different tonight.”
“Why?” She pulled back, brow furrowed.
“Wish I had you alone. All to myself.”
Her eyes narrowed, then her gaze searched mine. “Is that t
he only thing you wish was different?”
A concerned expression flashed across her face. It only lasted half a heartbeat.
But my slow brain finally connected the dots with all the strange vibes I’d been picking up from her, the wistfulness.
Something big weighed on her mind. About me. About us. About what we’d done.
“I wouldn’t do anything different.”
Her dark brows furrowed deeper. “You sure?”
“You know I wished there was another way.” I shrugged. “But there wasn’t. Now it’s over.”
“But what if it isn’t...over? You just legally won a ton of money to help people. What if what we did comes back to bite you? Risks Loading Zone? Puts the charity in jeopardy?”
“You having regrets?”
She gave a firm headshake. “Nope.” She kissed me softly. Then she closed the gap between us by pressing her body against mine once again.
“Good.” Because believing in what we did, without question, was the only thing holding me together about it.
“I just need to make sure you don’t,” she murmured against my neck.
My heartrate skyrocketed at the conviction in her measured tone.
I tightened my hold on her. Why did that sound like something you’re about to do?
Shay…
As we danced, I pretended the night was as Ben had wished, ours alone.
He kept a tight hold on me the entire time, through one slow song, then another, and a third romantic ballad after that; the band appeared to be catering to the man of the hour with the large gathering slow-dancing around us proving it a wise choice.
As the last notes faded away, he kissed me, slow and tender, filled with deep emotion.
And I melted into the intimate touch, savored our private moment in a very public place, as his lips brushed over mine in unspoken promise—that there would be more to come...later. My body hummed in response, warm and alive.
We spoke the same language on a physical level.
If only we were able to bridge the gap with everything else.
His inability to fully move on from what we’d done—the crime I’d encouraged him to commit—made me worry our worlds were too different.
If he didn’t see the other side, the bigger picture, then it meant he didn’t get me, didn’t understand the place I’d come from and the people I belonged to.
And if we had all that stacked against us... What hope can there be for us?
The split second our bodies pulled apart, he was whisked away by the adoring Golf Membership.
He shot me a quick apologetic glance over his shoulder.
I smiled and blew him a kiss. No reason to make him worry. He’d find out soon enough.
“Just once, couldn’t what we wish for ourselves matter?” I muttered as I found a quiet spot where I could observe the room from its outer edge.
Can two people from totally opposite worlds even survive together? As I swept my gaze across a crowd glittering with custom jewels and shining with designer clothes, I struggled to find any evidence we could.
Of course, the purpose of tonight’s event wove together our commonality, even if connected by the barest thread: Ben’s prize money would help the less fortunate, all those who’d been forgotten, the ones my heart ached for—who I would sacrifice anything for, even tonight.
Even for you, Ben.
As minutes ticked by, the number of people flowing into the room multiplied. The band continued to orchestrate the festivities, playing livelier celebratory tunes.
Trin had taken an empty chair in a far corner. She balanced a silver tray filled with hors d’oeuvres on her lap and had acquired an audience of three boys and a girl, all about her age. They sat on the floor around her, listening with rapt attention, probably to one of her wild adventures.
I spotted Ben again and stared at his profile as he spoke to a handful of men, one being Cade, another Whoosh.
Ben laughed at something Cade said.
But seconds later, a moving group of people blocked my view.
It struck me that Trin blended right in, Ben appeared right at home, of course, but I remained the one who felt like an outsider. Maybe it would’ve been different if I’d been younger like Trin or Ben when first exposed to the entitled. Maybe if I hadn’t spent years hardening my heart, surviving under the radar of the very people I now stood among.
For me to take on generations of status and privilege would be... “Ridiculous,” I muttered. Impossible. Hundreds of people filled the room, laughing, comfortable, every one of them set in their ways. Buying and wearing naughty T-shirts was one thing. Understanding the needs of the underprivileged and honestly caring enough to make a difference beyond a mere tax write-off? Totally different beast.
In the next seconds, the crowd on the expansive wooden dance floor thinned just enough for me to catch sight of Ben again.
And his gaze—hard and uncompromising—landed on me.
In that split second, my knees went weak, my breath caught, my pulse quickened.
What have you done to me?
That he had that kind of instant power over my body...my heart...frightened me.
But then he sucked in a deep breath, as if he needed steadying himself, as if I rocked his world in the same way.
Which makes what I have to do so much harder.
All of a sudden, a slender arm looped through mine. “What’re you doing standing here all by yourself?” Kiki’s bright blue eyes sparkled with mirth. “Should we be plotting chaos?”
“I wish.” She would’ve been such a great girlfriend to have while growing up, a best friend to share secrets with, someone to trust.
But I had her support now, in a way. Better late than never worked for me—the rapidly developing theme for the night.
I scanned across the room to pinpoint the rest of my crew. But Trin had vanished. Ben had also gone MIA.
Watchful gaze on the open doors that led out into the corridor, I leaned closer to Kiki. “How ’bout a place to go pee?”
“Kiki!” A grinning threesome of glamorous older women who’d just entered the room waved her over.
Kiki waved back at them, held up her index finger, then gave me a pointed look. “Well, if all-out pandemonium is your goal” —her gaze shifted to pan the room from corner to corner— “we could hike up our skirts and fertilize the potted plants.”
Oh, damn, Kiki. I bit my lip to keep from laughing. We’re gonna be great lifelong friends. “And if I wanted just a tiny scandal?”
Her dark brow arched. Then she glanced at the doors with a short nod toward them. “Ladies’ room is to the left, down the hall. But be sure flash someone for me, will ya? And then tell me all about it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some unsuspecting potential naughty-shirt customers to corrupt.”
I let out a low chuckle. “Good luck,” I muttered as I walked past her. With the pretentious crowd around us, our slick fairy godmother had her work cut out for her.
As promised, halfway down the wide outer hallway, appeared the ladies’ room.
Beyond its door stretched a large sitting area, filled with sprawling furniture covered in sumptuous fabrics. The setup tempted those passing through the impressive anteroom to stay awhile.
And many bedecked women had done just that: a conspiratorial pair whispering as they leaned close together on a low-slung ottoman, an older woman on a stately wing chair in the corner, a chatting young trio occupying a wide couch. And still, more than half the furniture remained unoccupied.
My four-inch glittering heels didn’t break stride across the plush carpet as I glided through the lion’s den. Confident? Sure.
Because not one of them intimidated me.
I’d become alpha of an entirely different order.
A wolf in a borrowed ball gown stalked through their privileged lair. An invited imposter.
Had any of the women sensed it?
When I cleared the room, I glanced back to check. But no one
looked my way. Each remained occupied or self-absorbed. Not surprising. Their world required a level of nonstop indifference that rendered someone like me—unintroduced, therefore unimportant—practically invisible.
My attention swung forward the moment my foot clicked on hard tile. And I realized I’d entered a cream marble fantasy. The floor gleamed a pale ivory kissed with misty swirls of the faintest gold. Three wide curving sinks in a similar hue balanced on pedestals that rested below oval gilded mirrors. Six wooden doors stained in a rich mahogany, none of which were closed, led to generous stalls; each was encased by plastered walls that stretched from floor to ceiling.
Beyond the sinks, a pair of tufted silvery green fainting couches flanked a manicured Ficus whose glossy green leaves nearly brushed the ceiling.
“Wow,” I breathed. No point in hiding my amazement. The digs were impressive, far beyond anything I could’ve imagined.
Wolf. Remember who you are. Not an innocent lamb. Definitely not an opportunistic lion.
Brushing off the momentary awestruck paralysis, I went into an open stall, carefully gathered the silken material of my dress, then made quick work of relieving myself. Muffled conversation hummed low through the thick door as I drew a length of velvety-soft toilet tissue from a ridiculously ornate gold holder. The curlicue lever that flushed the toilet matched, of course.
While washing my hands at one of the sinks, I did my best to look disinterested in anything but myself, examined my neutral frosted lipstick, paid particularly close attention to an imaginary hair that I smoothed behind my ear.
But in the background, my radar had fully fixed on the drama unfolding in front of a mirror, one sink over.
“...would think Franklin would know me by now. Can you believe this gaudy thing?”
Two midthirties women, a redhead and a brunette, examined some glittering monstrosity encircling the redhead’s wrist.
“Margaret,” the brunette chastised on a fierce whisper. “Look at the size of those stones. And they’re flawless pink diamonds? The bracelet had to have cost him a chunk of his trust fund.”
Margaret’s wrist got lifted by her friend to angle it closer to the brighter overhead lighting.