After all of that, I’ll regroup and figure it out like I always do. This is Manhattan, for God's sake. Attorneys are a dime a dozen, and it shouldn’t be this difficult to find one who I mesh well with.
So I’m going to live by that stupid saying, third time’s a charm, and hope for the best.
Laughter and champagne bottles popping infiltrate the air around me as I step into The Manhattan Animal Society’s annual charity gala. Women wear elaborate gowns, sparkling from head to toe in lavish diamonds and other precious stones, while the men are dressed to the nines in full tuxedos, some even donning tails and top hats.
It’s elaborate considering there are areas blocked off throughout the opulent ballroom with puppies, dogs, cats, and kittens.
Soft music plays as people mingle and walk arm in arm with their spouses, browsing the poor creatures who only want a loving family to take them home.
They won’t find that in this ballroom.
The Manhattan Animal Society plans this ball for one reason: Upper East Side socialites open their pocketbooks the widest for children and animals. God forbid anyone actually takes one of these furry babies home, but thankfully, the shelter is a no-kill facility.
This is the one event a year for the millionaires and billionaires of New York to prove they still have a conscience.
I run my hands down the front of my simple silk blush-colored gown. The straps are thin and the fabric swoops lightly over the top of my breasts, accentuating them in a classy way.My hair’s pulled back into a high ponytail, and I left a few framing pieces around my face, giving it a 90s feel. Still, even with the diamond choker around my neck, I feel underdressed.
Taking a bubbling glass from a passing waiter, I meander over to the senior dogs, smiling down at them as their handlers pet their white-fur peppered faces. There’s one in particular who catches my eye as he or she leans into their handler, enjoying being scratched behind their ears, before slowly plopping onto the ground to roll onto their back for belly rubs.
Definitely a boy.
He lets out a lowroo-rooin appreciation, his tail dusting the floor enthusiastically.
A laugh floats past my lips as I bring my champagne glass to my lips and take a small sip. “What’s his name?” I ask the handler, tipping my head toward the goodest boy living his best life as he gets belly rubs.
“Mickey-D,” she says, smiling affectionately. “He’s ten years old, been with us for almost two years now.”
“What happened to his owners?”
She shrugs, looking down at him sadly before looking back up at me. “He was found abandoned in the alleyway behind a McDonald’s, his leash tethered to a dumpster.” She giggles and turns her attention back to him. In a baby voice, she says, “That’s why you have such a silly name, isn’t it, boy?”
The thought makes my heart sink into the depths of my stomach. “People disgust me.”
She moves to scratch his chest. “I know. I don’t understand how someone can be so cruel to animals. Are you looking to adopt?”
The thought of Mickey-D moseying his way around my apartment, flopping around on his back as he waits for me to give him belly rubs, brings a smile to my face. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought about it until now.”
“Well, if a pet is something you can commit to, I highly recommend adopting a senior dog. Puppies are great, but there’s something special about the love a senior shelter dog has to give, even if their time with you won’t be as long.”
Curling my glass into me, I stare down at the black and white dog. He’s medium-sized and seems to be some sort of lab-mix.
I’ve never had a dog. My parents traveled too much for us to have any sort of pets, not that I ever asked for one, anyway. Now, the idea of having a companion at home is enticing.
“Don’t even think about it,” a delicious, sin-filled voice floats from behind me. Turning, I find Luciano entering my space with a glass of amber liquid in his grasp. “The last thing you need is a pet, let alone a dog that appears to be one day older than dirt.”
“And why is that, exactly?” I quip, my voice thick with attitude.
My eyes connect with his dove-colored bluish grays, and my heart stops beating as he sends me a knowing look.
But that’s the thing. Hedoesn’tknow me.
I hold his gaze as I toss back the remains of my champagne, curiosity trickling down with the bubbles when his eyes track the movement of the liquid moving down my throat.
Turning back to the sweet animal society worker, I thank her for her time before I walk away.
But I only make it two steps before Luciano grabs my wrist. My vision jolts to where his hand encircles my skin before lifting it to his face, catching the surprise as it dances across his features, mirroring my own.
Electricity tingles beneath his touch, pebbling my skin in a layer of goosebumps.
