AllFreeNovel
Share Us
But a few hours later, it became clear that my fairy godmother was a deceitful troll—or she was adhering hard to that one-wish-per-customer rule—because there were no happy endings in sight.
* * *
“Darling, who are you wearing?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere behind me.
I hadn’t expected an industry awards banquet to be quite so crowded or quite so filled with random socialites. I’d spotted at least two A-list actors and a politician just in the short time that Bash had stepped away to greet a colleague he recognized, and my nerves were back in full effect.
The throng of people had closed around me so thickly I didn’t realize the words were meant for me until a hand touched my arm.
I spun around and saw Constance Baxter-Hicks wearing a strapless black satin bombshell gown that made her look like she’d stepped out of an old Hollywood film. She was pure understated elegance, and it suited her to perfection.
“You’re outshining us all tonight, darling,” she said, air-kissing my cheek.
“Who, me?” I shook my head. “Look atyou.”
She poked me with a jewel-encrusted clutch purse that matched the beading along the bust line of her gown. “This old thing?” She preened. “Don’t be silly. That tuxedo is to die for.”
Constance wasn’t wrong. As soon as I’d seen myself in the mirror, I’d vowed never to be caught dead in Joey’s bunny tux again. The look on Bash’s face when he’d first seen me in it had made me consider turning tricks if that’s what it took to keep dressing so fine. Second Chance Savers castoffs were great, but they couldn’t hold a candle to this.
“It’s McQueen,” I said with a sniff, feeling the familiar armor of my Sterling Chase persona fall over me.If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.
“Really? I would have imagined you in something a little more…quirky,” she said with a sparkle of understanding in her eye. “A Siriano tux gown perhaps… or at least a vintage Alberta Ferretti. Something with flair.”
I held out my arm to her. “Butter is better than flair. Feel this.”
Her grin widened when she ran her manicured fingers down my sleeve. “Grain de poudre… and surely it’s made from virgin wool. How… appropriate.”
My face heated. I’d been so intimidated by the woman at our first meeting I’d taken her at face value. Considering my own circumstances at the time, I should have known better than to assume that anyone at these parties was truly who they appeared to be. After the incident at the polo field, I’d started to wonder whether Constance was more aware than I’d given her credit for—which was both interesting and off-putting. Now I was pretty sure she’d confirmed it.
“I’ll have you know this is no longer virgin wool,” I said, my gaze searching the crowd for a particularly tall and handsome head… or, in a pinch, any of the other members of the brotherhood who were supposed to be attending. “It’s thoroughly debauched wool. The debauchiest.”
“What is going on over here?” Bash’s murmur made my skin prickle. He handed me a glass of wine and slid an arm around my waist. “Constance. How are you this evening? Exciting developments with your topiaries?”
Constance laughed delightedly. “So thoughtful of you to ask, Sebastian. I’m doing much better now that I’ve run into Sterling here. The man brings life to a party.”
Bash’s hand tightened on my waist. “I couldn’t agree more.”
She pursed her lips, and her eyes danced. “He was just bragging about his… wool. It seems the man… excuse me, histuxedo… has been through some things since we last met.”
I tried not to choke on my wine. “Yes, well. You know McQueen.” I waved a hand in the air, trying at the last minute not to slosh out my wine. “He likes to make a statement.”
“Indeed.” Constance looked around the room. “Bash, please tell me there’s going to be entertainment tonight. I can hardly stand these awards banquets. The least they can do is roll out a dance floor and strike up an orchestra. Or maybe have Zee Barlo sing. I swear I saw him around here somewhere.”
“There’ll be dancing after dinner,” Bash said with a knowing smirk. “Why do you think I brought a date?”
I elbowed him while secretly bouncing with excitement over the idea of dancing with Bash after the awards ceremony. I’d never been to a party like this—not as an invited guest, anyway—and I’d certainly never danced with another man in public before.
Constance waved to someone across the crowd. “Pearson, darling!” Then she leaned in to whisper, “Insufferable ass but serves the most delightful Coquille Saint-Jacques at his Memorial Day fête every year, so I can’t help but maintain the connection, you understand. Until later, mon cher! Save a dance for me, will you?” She floated away into the crowd with a heavy waft of Chanel No. 5.
“Force of nature,” I murmured.
“We should have told her your real name,” Bash said. “She’s a good connection to maintain.”
“Pretty sure she somehow knows it,” I admitted softly. “The woman seemed to see right through me.” I gave him a look. “Not easy to keep a secret in this crowd.”
Bash threaded his fingers through mine and tugged me in the direction of the banquet tables. Rows and rows of tables sparkled with silver and glassware, rich floral centerpieces, and lit votive candles. My eyes took in every inch of the exquisite surroundings from the elegant clothes to the pristine table displays. Near the side of the room, he found the tables with Sterling Chase’s logo on a card in the center and led me to them.
Landry was already seated at the first Sterling Chase table, slumped in his seat with a glass of wine in his hand. His date, a model-gorgeous man, sat beside him, talking to his phone like he was making an Instagram reel and ignoring everyone else around him. When we approached, Landry winked and raised his glass to us.
