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Mybest friend ran aPRandTalentAgency, a legacy passed down by her father.Shewas the one who insisted we attend tonight’s event.Herfirm likely organized the events and knew the answer to the million-dollar question.
Whoowns this property, and why have they been throwing parties all summer?
Nonetheless,I’dnever pressureJordanto reveal the identity of this mystery man.Shemanaged big-name stars and was notoriously secretive about her list, especially if the client wanted to remain anonymous.Iknew all about it from first-hand experience becauseIwas one ofJordan’sclients.
“Hm,”Isaid absently mindedly, inspecting the stone mansion towering over us.Actually, calling this place a mansion was a misuse of the word.Theterm castle was a better fit.
Jaypulled the car up to the cobblestone roundabout.Avalet scattered to us on cue, exchanging our keys for a paper slip.Jaypocketed the claim ticket, handing the man some cash before he drove away with the car.Weentwined fingers, turning a couple of heads in the process.
Itwasn’t abnormal for people to gawk at our odd pairing.Thepeculiarity didn’t stem from my five feet, three-inch, petite frame againstJay’ssix feet, one-inch, muscular build.Itwas the seventeen years between us that was so striking.
Somemight peg me as a gold digger upon learning of our vast age difference.Itcouldn’t be further from the truth.Jaywas as out of my league at fifty-one as he had been at thirty-eight.Myhusband didn’t use age as a reason to let himself go and saw a personal trainer four times a week.Itcontributed to the solid block of muscle under his custom-made suit, further distinguishing his handsome features.
Womensalivated after my husband, and despiteJay’sconstant reassurance,Iwasn’t impervious to the yearning gaze they cast his way.Wehad been together for over a decade, but the stares hadn’t subsided.Mosteyes were on him tonight, especially sinceJaywore his show-stopping navy blue suit.
Iwas over the exhibitionism of elaborate affairs but still dressed accordingly.Appearancesplayed a significant role inJay’sworld, and despite my reluctance to attend,Ididn’t want to embarrass him in front of his colleagues.
Withmy pastel cardigan folded over my right elbow,Ismoothed the skirt of the conservative cocktail dress that flared around my knees.Igenerally wore muted colors but couldn’t help pairing the outfit with sparklingJimmyChoopumps.Takingstock of the well-dressed attendees enjoying a glass of champagne or a smoke outside,Iwas relieved to discover the shoes didn’t stand out.
“Youlook beautiful,”Jaywhispered on cue.
Myskin warmed under his gaze. “I’mnot the one everyone is staring at.Thosetwo haven’t taken their eyes off you.”Istared down the two women smoking next to the grand staircases.Theyshamelessly eye-fucked my husband and weren’t deterred by the scowl on my face.
Jaysmirked. “YoumeanIhave other options?Holdon, girls.I’mcoming.”Hemade a show of sprinting toward the leering women asIplayfully tugged him back.Itwas enough to lighten my sour mood, andIbroke out with a toothy grin.Healways knew how to get me out of a funk.Hehad been there for me throughout the most challenging times of my life, and despite the recent disconnect, there was no oneI’drather be here with other than him.
Igiggled in response to his playfulness, diminishing some of my previous annoyance over attending this party.Squeezingmy hand,Jayled the way.
“Shit,” one of the women ogling my husband cried out.
Myneck twisted in her direction to find the front of her dress ruined by cinder-colored dust.Thecigarette ashes had fallen on her bodice, and when she hurriedly brushed it off, the color stained the front of her chest.
Westopped next to the woman, andIheld out my cardigan. “Here.”
Flustered, she glanced at my outstretched arm. “Oh.Oh, no.It’sokay.”Shereddened, realizingIwas the woman who’d glared at her for checking out my husband.
Iinternally shrugged.Everyonechecked out my husband.Icould hardly hold it against the poor woman, especially knowing from personal experience that these types of incidents were mortifying.Ittook me years of practice to eventually exercise grace.Beforethen,Iused to be an impatient free spirit leaving behind a trail of clumsiness.
“Really, take it.Youwon’t be able to fix that with club soda.”Inodded at the front of her dress.Itwas ruined beyond what could be repaired tonight.Theonly cure would be a trip to the dry cleaners. “Ifyou button up the cardigan, it’ll cover up the stain.”
“That’sso kind,” she murmured, finally grabbing the cardigan.Awarmth radiated from her that hadn’t existed a few moments ago. “Thankyou,” she said, shrugging on the delicate material.
“You’revery welcome.”
“I’mGreta, by the way,” she offered. “Andthis is my friendRachel.”
Jaynodded in acknowledgment as we exchanged handshakes. “JayAmbani.Thisis my wife,Piya.”
Wepolitely chatted with the two women, sharing small talk.Soon, the conversation turned to the inquiry about our elusive host.
Neitherof them had seen the mystery man we sought.Therewere hushed rumors that an enigmatic celebrity had bought and renovated this property.Hehad been hosting these spectacular events for the surrounding community.Thiswas a dream for anyone searching for investment or networking opportunities or simply to party and climb the social ladder.Thespeculations for the host’s vague reasons remained at large since he was yet to make an appearance.
Aswe bid goodbye to the women and turned away,Gretacalled after me, “Wait.HowdoIreturn this to you?Shouldwe exchange numbers?”
Ismiled. “Keepit.Looksbetter on you, anyways.”
Jayguided me up the grand staircases and through the opulent entranceway.Istopped short upon reaching the top of the stairs, the view taking my breath away.
Thefoyer opened to a large ballroom with a magnificent set of stairs smack in the middle.Agiant chandelier hung off the ceiling, while two smaller ones accompanied it on each side.Thewalls were painted white, with large windows covering much of the room.Theywere draped with elegant curtains in cross-cross fashion, and even from here,Icould see a beautiful courtyard connected to the ballroom.
