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After achieving my level of success, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to let people know the truth. But a habit formed over thirty-two years is a hard one to break.
Plus, the last thing I wanted was for my story to become some kind of sensationalized rags-to-riches trauma porn for the masses.
So, I continued keeping that side of myself, that little snippet of my past, from absolutely everyone except for my best friend.
And that included Nell.
Jeffers pulled the car up to the curb of my building, and I gave him payment for the ride, letting him know that I wouldn’t need his services for the rest of the night. I greeted the security guard on duty, a man named Walter who had worked there since well before I bought the penthouse, and then climbed into the elevator that would take me all the way up to my home.
When the doors opened into my foyer, I stepped out, the sound of my footsteps echoing off the custom hardwood flooring. There was a garment bag on a clothing rack waiting just inside my door, and my eyes fell on it immediately.
It was the suit that I planned to wear to the gala. I had sent it out for dry cleaning two days prior, and now it was back. Cleaned, pressed, and ready to go.
I grabbed the bag, imagining how it would look next to Nell in that black gown as I walked through the apartment toward my closet. I could see it now. The two of us perfectly matched as we walked through the throngs of people; the photographers I knew would be there would love us.
And then her family….
The thought brought me up short. I hadn’t given too much thought to the fact that she was going with me to the event so that we could convince her mother and brother, who happened to be my best friend, that we were engaged and had been keeping it from them.
I had been deliberately not thinking of Jourdan’s reaction to it all. But now, with the gala looming over us and Nell’s dress secured, it was finally feeling real.
Jourdan was going to be pissed.
There was no way around it. But would he be so pissed off that it damaged our friendship irreparably?
I didn’t think so.
The most I could imagine Jourdan doing was being mad that I didn’t tell him about Nell in the first place, which I thought was understandable.
But I didn’t think it would turn into a huge blowup.
Or, at least, I hoped it wouldn’t.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
NELL
I checkedmy phone for what felt like the thousandth time, making sure that I wasn’t running late as I did a final swipe of mascara and touched up my lipstick.
I stepped back from the mirror and admired the final product, giving myself a nod of approval.
The dress, which Blake had picked up from Kat’s two days ago and had delivered to my apartment, fit me like a glove after the alterations. And if I had thought it looked amazing before, it was absolutely breathtaking now.
The neckline plunged to the top of my naval. I had paired it with a necklace whose pendant, a beautiful piece of mother of pearl inlaid in diamonds, dangled from a long silver chain to land directly between my breasts. It had matching earrings that I had donned with pride.
They had been a present from Hugo when I had celebrated my fifth anniversary at the gallery, and I hadn’t gotten the chance to wear them yet. I couldn’t wait to show him the pictures of how they pulled together the fantastic gown from Miss Kitty’s.
I fingered one of the large barrel curls I’d put at the ends of my hair, tugging it back into place and securing the pearl hairpin that held back half of my hair from my face. I looked like a starlet out of Old Hollywood, and I couldn’t recall a time when I felt this beautiful.
A knock sounded at my door, and my heart leaped in my chest. I checked my phone again, noting the time and smiling.
Blake was right on time.
I walked out of the bathroom, my heels clicking across the floor as I grabbed the long, beautiful black coat I had chosen for the occasion and my clutch bag before pulling open the door.
Blake stood on the other side of the door, and my stomach flipped at the sight of him. He was in a black tux that was so beautifully fitted, hugging every bulge of his muscles in a way that made my mouth go dry. He wore a white undershirt with small frills running through it to provide texture and a gorgeous, classic black bowtie.
His black hair was swept back from his face with pomade, and his stormy blue eyes shone as they landed on me. He looked like he belonged on the silver screen, starring beside James Dean, and I realized just how much of a striking pair we would make at the gala.
