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“I know. I’ve been checking the time too.”
“Then, why are we still standing here?” Her tone was warm and encouraging. “You should be in there with the crowd, socializing. This is your event.”
A second went by before a handsome waiter passed with an empty tray. I caught the not-so-subtle look they shared but kept a straight face.
She dropped the glass on his tray, he disappeared in the crowd, and she turned back to me.
Nineteen, but sharp as a knife and more intelligent than any other nineteen-year-old I'd ever met. My father would never have hired her as my assistant if she weren’t. She was also verypretty and sweet. That gave her an extra foot in the door. No one can say no to a beautiful and sweet woman.
Carla Whitlow had smooth dark skin, hazel eyes, and a radiant smile. A smile that reached her eyes every time she grinned. The yellow sleeveless maxi dress with a plunging neckline didn't hide her glow, and her long, curly hair, pinned up in an elegant bun, only made her more desirable. I could tell by the last heated gaze the waiter gave her before he left.
I bit back a grin. Cute romance.
More laughter echoed from the crowd. More clinking of glasses. More buzzing conversations erupted. I rubbed my arm and sighed. Goose bumps covered my skin.
“The air-conditioning works perfectly.”
Carla snorted, rolled her eyes, and rapidly typed something into the black iPad resting on her palm. “You’re nervous.”
She was right. I was nervous. But if I admitted it, it would become all the more real.
My eyes wandered around the room; the socialites were enjoying themselves and that sent a shiver down my spine. I didn’t want them to get carried away. My wish for the evening wasn't about how great the food and drinks tasted—although that was a bonus.
Jimmy Martin could despise the fish, or Reyna Campbell could pick at her medium rare steak all night, and I wouldn’t go the extra mile for either of them to satisfy them. There were more important things to do: saving lives and giving children a home.
The sole purpose of organizing the best event of the year was not for the social news headlines. I didn’t care about the fame or any of those things.
But she was right. This was my event. Standing and watching from the sidelines did not show confidence. It mademe appear like a mere bystander; and, if I’d learned anything from the crowd my father rolled with, public figures had more respect for people in the spotlight.
I took my lower lip between my teeth and turned back to Carla. “Do I look all right??
She smiled and swished a hand through the air, as if to say, “obviously.” Instead, the next words that rolled out of her mouth were semi-formal (considering that she didn’t want to sound any less professional) and heartwarming. “Do you ever not look okay?”
The corners of my lips tipped upwards, and I relaxed. She squinted, leaned forward, brushed off whatever it was—probably a lint—from the neck of the dress, and straightened up. “You look stunning, boss—I meanVanessa. You look stunning in that dress, Vanessa. I know I haven’t told you this, but I love your style. It inspires me.”
My smile reached my ears. “It feels nice to hear that. You have a great style too.”
“Well, it’s noDolce & Gabbana,” she commented with a breathy sigh.
“Doesn’t have to be. Once you have the perfect picture of what you want up here,” I tapped on my forehead, “you’re good to go. Plus, I’ll advise that you humble yourself to learn from the big guys. Unlearn, and relearn everything you think you already know. This will help you grow faster and style yourself better.”
She gave a soft whistle of surprise. “Phew—Spoken like a true fashion icon.”
“Maybe someday soon, I hope.”
She cleared her throat, suddenly realizing we’d strayed from the event of the night, and shyly looked back at the screen in her hand.
Assistant or not, she was paid out of my father’s pockets; and even if she was paid out of mine, with two years more undermy belt I considered us the same age. I would have preferred to recognize her as a friend rather than an employee, and I expected her to do the same.
About my dress...
I bent my neck and smoothed out the thick fabric. It was a beige sleeveless trench dress. It was simple and unlabeled, and it got the point across.
After my father’s publicist tried to put pressure on me to wear an elegant evening dress that cost over a thousand dollars, I stood my ground and chose the cheap trench dress.
“You should add it to your speech.”
I raised my head and stared at Carla. “What?”
