"Goodnight," I said as I followed him to the door. "Thanks again for everything."
"Anytime," he said with a wink before he swooped down and captured a kiss from my mouth. "Sweet dreams, baby!"
I just smiled and shook my head as he jogged down the front steps and into the waiting town car.
When he was gone, I went back into the house and sprawled on the couch where Brandon was sitting earlier, my nose burying into one of the throw pillows as I hunted for the smell of him.
I was in deep, deep trouble and there was very little I could do about it.
Chapter Eight: The Other Parties
It was the big day.
No. Wait.
Not that big day. Just the engagement party.
I was such a nervous wreck that it might as well have been the wedding. It was the first official and public event that Brandon and I were attending even though we've only invited around a hundred people or so—ninety-five percent of which I've never met before.
"Do I look presentable?" I asked as I moved away from the mirror and faced Felicity, Armina, Noli and Clyde who were in my living room, clustered around me as they made the final touches to my look tonight.
"Don't insult us by calling yourself presentable, Charlotte," Clyde chided, patting the tip of my nose with the fluffy end of his powder brush. "You look absolutely gorgeous. Am I right, guys?"
The two women nodded their approval while Noli assured me that I was going to take everyone's breath away.
I glanced back at the mirror, studying my reflection.
Noli had tweaked the dress, taking it to the next level when he lengthened the skirt to a slim, floor-length A-line shape, overlapping the old rose-colored tulle with a layer of a pale, burnished gold version. The beadwork remained but he'd cut out the back into a deep V that stopped just at the small of my back and he removed the cap sleeves, displaying my shoulders and collarbone with the boatneck cut in front. My honey-blonde hair was swept up in a mix of messy braids pinned together in low bun.
My cheeks were flushed, my eyelids dusted with a pale, pinkish gold shade, my lashes maximized with dark, brown-black mascara and my lips dabbed with a tinted lip balm. Clyde insisted we kept my make up minimal for a barely-there look. He said it kept me looking young and elegant without trying too hard.
I wasn't sure why we should pretend I wasn't trying too hard—my head was crammed with a hundred or so names and profile photos after all.
The doorbell sounded.
"Oh, that would be Mr. Maxfield," Felicity said as she hurried to the door. "Let's wrap it up."
"Here you go, Char," Armina said as she handed me a white, flat leather clutch studded with pale gold beads. "Now, lift your chin up, square your shoulders and look down on everyone else."
I wrinkled my nose. "I don't look down on people, Min. Let's try a different mantra. I'll lift my chin up, square my shoulders and think..."
Clyde, Armina and Noli looked at me expectantly.
"That after the party, I'm making Brandon get me a cheeseburger with fries after I starved myself today to fit into this dress," I finished with a smug smile. "No one will suspect that while I seem to be nibbling here and there, I'm looking forward to my fast-food treat."
Armina groaned and smacked her head. "You are the weirdest girl, I swear. Savoureux is catering your party and you're fantasizing about cheeseburgers."
"Who's fantasizing about cheeseburgers?" Brandon's rich, dark voice drifted into the room as he strode in, sharply dressed in a sleek, dark brown suit with a cognac-colored tie. His dark hair was trimmed and combed back, a few locks falling over his forehead, his shaven face showing off the stark planes of his angular face.
He looked so perfect it hurt to stare at him.
I bit my lip. "Me. I told them you'll need to take me out for cheeseburgers and fries later as a reward for my restraint in not eating more than just crackers today."
His hazel eyes lazily appraised me as he stopped a foot away, his lips curving in an admiring smile.
"I'll get you as many cheeseburgers as you want just for looking the way you do right now," he said, his eyes crinkling before he brushed a light kiss on my cheek. "For now, I hope this will do."
He pulled back and lifted a long, jeweler's box he'd been holding and opened it for me.
I could hear the gasps from everyone else in the room.
"Do you like it?" he asked as he lifted the chain out of the box and held it up for me.
It was a necklace with a short white gold chain, encrusted with alternating pink and clear round diamonds in slightly varying sizes.
"It's lovely," I croaked out through the emotions stuck in my throat as Brandon smiled and moved behind me to secure the necklace around my neck. "You shouldn't have, though."
"Yes, I should have," he said sofly as he turned me gently to him, his fingers cupping my chin. "It's our engagement party."
For a marriage of convenience, yes, except that the damn lines are blurring.
"Thank you," I said, smiling back at him. "I'll take care of it, make sure it's safely returned to you later tonight."
His brows shot up and he glanced around to make sure everyone was busy cleaning up to pay too much attention to us. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just before my ear as he whispered, "It's a gift, Charlotte. I want you to have it."
"Okay," I mumbled out faintly, awkward all of a sudden with my conflicting emotions. I placed my hand on his chest though, and looked up at him with another smile. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said before taking the hand I'd placed on his chest and using it to wrap my arm around his as he turned to all the people assisting me. "Thank you again for all your help. We have to get going now though. We'll see all of you at the party later."
I beamed at everyone and gave them a little wave as Brandon escorted me to the door. He had easily agreed to my suggestion to let my style team come since I didn't really have a lot of friends invited to this party.
Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Thurston House—a splendid Victorian mansion converted into a banquet hall about fifty years ago. It was popular for its opulent, old-world charm and its sprawling gardens.
Brandon helped me out of the car and camera lights were already flashing before I could even straighten myself up. There was a small area corded off for the media and reporters were craning their necks to get a better view of us.
"Oh, I promised them ten minutes tonight before we go in," I told Brandon before I slowly made my way to the paps, taking care not to trip in my four-inch strappy gold sandals. "Come, Brand. It won't take long."
He looked uncertain for a moment but he nodded and walked with me. Gilles was already there, stepping away when Brandon and I arrived.
"Ms. Samuels! It's a big night. Are you excited?"
"Mr. Maxfield, any comment on the rumored CanCorp acquisition?"
"Charlotte, is that the same dress?"
"How's little Rose?"
"Where will you honeymoon?"
I heard Brandon mutter under his breath as we got barraged with questions but he stayed by my side, his body angled toward me in a protective stance.
I smiled at him, touching his jaw reassuringly. "Don't worry. You don't have to say anything. I've got this."
He glanced down at me with a raised brow. "You're not used to this, Charlotte."
"Used to it enough in the last few days," I told him before I stepped forward and beamed at the reporters.
"Hey, guys. How's it going?" I greeted them, recognizing the familiar faces of the small group who faithfully showed up at our designated place each day.
For the next ten minutes, I rambled on in easy, upbeat conversation with everyone.
Kinda went like this...
"Marco, how did that root canal go? Having trouble with it at all?"
"Dennis, buddy. I looked up that movie and I'm pretty sure it was Harrison Ford, not Dustin Hoffman, who played the president. I know. He plays the
president in like half a dozen movies."
"Did you bring her to the Rose Patch? Told you she'd totally dig it. Trust me on this, Ren."
"Sheena, I saw that photo you took of me as I was coming out of the bookstore. Now everyone thinks I'm vegan for some reason. I just wanted to look at possible mini-greenhouse ideas. I can't give up meat."
"Brandon promised me he won't talk about work tonight so no comment on the acquisition. Trent, you know better than to talk business with me."
"Chad, tell your wife to toast the pecans. It deepens their flavor and compliments the vanilla in the dough. Yeah, yeah. I'll send you a recipe."
"Honeymoon's a surprise. Right, babe? I've tried playing detective but it's a well-guarded secret. I'll be as surprised as all of you when I find out, I'm sure."
Ten minutes later, Brandon practically dragged me away.
"I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing that you talk to the paps like you're all buddies," he murmured, slipping an arm behind my waist.
I shrugged. "I got to know them pretty well. Spending all day running around trying to take photos or talk to people who have no interest in dealing with them is a diffcult job so I try to make it easier for them. It's a good system. They leave me alone when I ask them, and I give them something back so they can do their job. We all get along that way."
Brandon's hold on my arm tightened and kept me in place just as we were about to walk through the front door. His other hand rested on my hip and his forehead touched mine.
"I really shouldn't be surprised anymore but I am," he said with a smile before brushing a kiss on my lips. "Come on. Everyone wants to meet you."
If Brandon meant to reassure me with that kiss, he was gravely mistaken because the last thing I needed before going into the den of the city's upper class was undoing my fragile composure with the mere touch of his lips on mine.
The doors opened and my hand on Brandon's arm gripped harder.
A voice boomed through the PA and announced us with a lively congratulations on our upcoming wedding.
I swallowed hard. My heart might have possibly relocated somewhere in the vicinity of my throat but there was nothing to be done about it now.
"You're going to do great, Charlotte," he murmured under his breath while gracing the crowd who turned to us at our arrival with a brilliant smile. People started applauding.
I nodded slightly, glancing up at him. "Cheeseburgers and fries later, okay?"
He looked at me, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners in humor. "Cheeseburgers and fries."
He took my hand and gently led me forward just as Martin stepped out and greeted both of us with a hug, smiling and laughing.
"Charlotte, look at you! You're exquisite!" he said as he leaned in to kiss me on the forehead. "Isn't she, Brand?"
"She is," Brandon agreed with an indulgent smile. "You're looking good too, Dad."
It was true. The old man had a healthy flush on his cheeks and his blue eyes were bright and clear.
"If I didn't know better, Martin, I would suspect you're out to break some girl's heart here tonight at our party," I told him teasingly.
He chuckled. "Not an old man like me. I'm just here to wish you well and make sure you have a grand time."
Then his expression sobered up a little as he added in a lower voice. "Frankly, I thought I'd better damn make sure no one gives you any problems, Charlotte. I doubt though that anyone could get away with any of that crap with you."
"No, they couldn't," Brandon answered in a firm voice, pulling me in a little closer to him. "I'll take care of her, Dad."
Martin smiled at his son. "I know you will."
Then he clapped Brandon on the shoulder and winked at me. "Well, you two now make your rounds and put everyone out of their misery. They can't wait to meet Charlotte. Program's starting in half an hour and then dinner. I'll see you two around later. Charlotte, go knock 'em out."
And just like that, we were dismissed as Martin strode away.
"Your father is such a weirdo, sometimes."
Brandon laughed. "God. You're the only one who can get away with calling him that."
"Well, he's somewhat responsible for my own weirdness so we're even," I said. "For years, he's been in the voice in my head."
Brandon smiled. "I have a feeling that the voice in your head is all yours, Charlotte, if it's as incessant as you are."
I rolled my eyes at him and lightly smacked him on the chest. "Oh, shut up,"I said to Brandon just as he grabbed a glass of champagne from a server who came up to us.
"Fine. Truce for tonight," he agreed with a chuckle. "Now, what would you like to drink?"
I grinned and peered at the offerings on the server's tray. "Um, I can't drink any of this stuff."
Understanding dawned in Brandon's eyes. "Right. You're only nineteen." He turned to the server. "What's your name?"
The young man blinked nervously at Brandon. "Um, Darren, sir."
Brandon smiled at him. "Darren, my man, I'm going to ask you to personally see to my fiancee's drinks tonight. Can you please ensure she's supplied with whatever she would like from the bar?"
Darren nodded and glanced at me. "Of course. What would you like, miss?"
I decided to take pity on the poor guy. Brandon was very nice in asking but he was naturally intimidating to anyone with a softer spine. "Any kind of fruity mocktail will do. Thank you, Darren."
"You're welcome, miss. I'll be right back with it," he said with a slight, awkward bow.
I still didn't really get why people had been bowing to me. On a recent trip to a store witih Felicity, I learned my mistake in asking them to explain it and making them more uncomfortable so I never did it again.
When the server was gone, Brandon groaned softly in my ear as he turned me toward him, his hands resting on my hips. "I shouldn't but I always forget how young you are. I feel like an old lecher now."
I burst out laughing. "Lecher, yes, but old, not really."
He gave me a feigned scowl, his fingers tightening just very slightly on my hips. "If you'll stick that tag to me, I'll be forced to prove it right here, right now."
Warmth crept on my cheeks as Brandon's gaze darkened with heat but an easy chuckle drew us out of that moment.
We turned and found a tall man with dark blond hair and green eyes walking up to us and smiling broadly. He was awfully cute in a surfer-dude kind of way. He looked very familiar I was certain he was in Felicity's profile book but I couldn't remember much at the moment.
"I come home from Bangkok after a two-week business trip and find an invitation to my best friend's engagement party and wedding," he said as he stopped in front of us and clapped Brandon's shoulder, his gaze focusing on me with appreciation. "I thought someone was playing a prank on me but then I see the bride and completely understand why Brand is stumbling over himself to get shackled."
I glanced up at Brandon who was rolling his eyes. "You have a best friend?"
The other man laughed. "She doesn't seem nearly as impressed with you as you are with her. What's wrong, man? Losing your touch?"
"Charlotte, this poor excuse for a friend is Jake Hastings," Brandon introduced. "Jake, meet Charlotte Samuels, my fiancee."
Jake Hastings. Right. Brandon's best friend since first grade. He owned a publishing company and was a certified ladies' man. It didn't say on the profile book but Felicity added that last bit herself.
Jake took my hand and kissed the back of it. "A real pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. You look stunning tonight. If I'd known about you, I wouldn't have left. I would've done my best to steal you away from Brandon."
I relaxed. Jake clearly didn't know about my arrangement with his friend.
I gave him a cheeky smile. "I don't know about that. I can't say that a consummate flirt is a better choice over a brooding tyrant."
Jake's brows shot up in surprise for a moment before he burst out laughing. "Oh, boy. I can see that you know my friend pretty well here and I
don't believe I'm going to fare better than he did in your opinion."
Brandon let out a near growl, his arm wrapping around my waist possessively. "No, you aren't, Jake, so stop flirting with my fiancee."
Jake gave him a challenging look. "I will if you stop monopolizing her. You've been in the party ten minutes and she hasn't met a single guest other than me and Martin. With all the headlines Charlotte has been making in the past week, everyone's getting impatient to meet her."
I grimaced. "Oh, no. I should've done my best to stay under the radar."
Jake shook his head. "No, you shouldn't. And I'm sure you wouldn't have succeeded anyway. Brandon was an eligible bachelor, Charlotte. Everyone will be curious about the woman who snagged him all the way down to the altar."
"Hmm, sounds like I need to find some rope to drag you to the altar on our wedding day, Brand," I told Brandon with a mock-serious expression. "That's the only way we're going to convince people."
Brandon laughed and murmured, "I can think of other more enjoyable uses for the rope on our wedding night, baby."
I flushed and Jake just laughed and shook his head. "You two better make your rounds, sit through the program and dinner, and get the hell out of here."
And so we spent the next twenty minutes moving around, meeting one guest after another.
I secretly thanked Felicity for all that time she insisted I spend going through profiles not because I remembered all the names and faces but mostly because it gave me a thing or two to talk about with each guest when I did recognize them.
Most of them were very nice and friendly—a few were a bit reserved in meeting me but they were all polite in their curiosity nonetheless that I made no fuss about it.
During our rounds, we ran into Anna who was dressed regally in a dark blue long gown and Tessa who looked pretty but a bit understated in a peach-colored, hand-embroidered cocktail dress. They were polite to me, if a little stiff, but I didn't mind it.
The announcement for the short program before dinner had just been made when Brandon caught me by the elbow to draw me out of my conversation with a Greek socialite and environmental activist.
The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield Page 13