The Wager: A Billionaire Romance (2 page)

I tried hard not to roll my eyes, so instead I turned to look at Mel. "Why would you even consider dyeing your hair black?" I asked.

"Jose was just saying that he thinks it'll make me stand out. Really make my eyes pop and my skin just glow," Mel said.

I cocked my head at her as if she'd just lost her mind. "Do you not remember your little Goth phase a few years ago? I'm sorry, but black hair is not for you."

I hoped the reminder of her ill fated attempt to darken her hair back in college would be enough to make her think twice about doing it again. Her natural red hair and green eyes paired with her fair skin made her look ethereal. Black hair just made her look old and washed out.

"Well, the theme is chinoiserie this year--"

"And you think dyeing your hair black will...what? Make you look more Asian? Are you serious right now?" I asked.

Mel flushed embarrassingly and looked back at the mirror. "You're probably right. Now that I think about it, my mother would probably ban me from ever attending again if I embarrassed her."

Jose huffed and shot me an irritated glare. He kept his mouth shut, but I knew he wasn't happy with me at all. He excused himself and left the room for a cigarette break, taking his small entourage with him. Once the door had closed, I turned back to Mel, and raised a sardonic brow at her.

"Nice guy," I said.

"Don't mind Jose. He's really a doll when you get to know him better."

"Sure, if you say so," I mumbled.

Mel got up from her chair and turned to face me. Her expression became serious and her lips turned down into a frown once she got a better look at my face.

"What happened to your eye?" she asked.

"Ugh, don't even get me started. Today has been beastly. I somehow managed to get an infection in my eye, so now I've got to wear these monstrosities," I said pointing to my glasses.

"You can't wear your contacts?" she asked.

"Nope."

"Do you have any other pair of glasses that aren't so..."

"Horrendous? No unfortunately. I only ever wear these at home, so I didn't think to get a more stylish pair. Don't think I don't regret it now."

"Well, it's actually not so bad. Maybe it even looks a little edgy?" she said, trying to put a positive spin on an obviously bad situation. "Anyway, let's go look at dresses and pick one out for you. I didn't know what you'd like, so I took a bit of everything."

"Did you pay for all these?" I asked.

"Yeah right," she snorted. "I probably couldn't even afford half these dresses. No, my mother let me raid the samples at her offices."

"That was nice of her. But I don't think I could fit into any sample sizes," I said.

"Oh don't worry. They get dresses from all types of designers. There's some plus sized dresses there, not that I'm saying you're plus size or anything," she quickly added. "But you know how the samples are mostly made for stick thin models, and anything over a size 2 is considered--"

"Mel, shut up before you go digging a bigger hole for yourself," I laughed.

Mel smiled at me, relieved that she hadn't offended me. "Right, so let's get to the dresses. I was thinking about this one," she said pulling out a fire engine red halter top dress with a long slit up the front.

"Definitely not," I said shaking my head.

"Why not? I think it'd look sexy on you. You've got killer boobs and legs--"

I held up my hand to cut her off. "I'm not trying to look like a skank. It's too loud and too attention grabbing."

"What's wrong with that?" she asked.

"Is this the first time you've met me? You know I hate to be in the spotlight. Let's just pick a dress that'll help me blend into the background."

Mel looked like she was ready to argue, but I turned around and started going through the racks of dresses. I pulled out a nice floor length black silk dress with long sleeves and a conservative neckline.

"This one isn't so bad," I said, holding it up against my body.

Mel dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "You can't wear black; you've got to wear color."

"Then why do you have black dresses here if I'm not supposed to wear them? And why, exactly, can't I wear black?"

"Because you always wear black. It's so boring, you need to try something different," she said.

Before I could respond, she had already pulled out another bright colored dress and held it up in front of me. "This one would really look good on you. Plus the color's not as loud as the red," she said.

I looked over the electric teal taffeta gown with rouching at the bodice, and grimaced. There was no way in hell I would be caught out in public wearing something so hideous. I almost couldn't believe that an actual designer made that dress. It looked like it belonged in the bargain bin of the Goodwill.

After some more arguing and eye rolls, we finally settled on a royal blue organza gown with a full skirt and crystal encrusted lace top that was cinched at the waist with a thick silk band. It wasn't my normal style, and I was concerned about the flimsy lace top supporting my bust, but in the end, I was too tired to try on any more gowns. I was exhausted, and the evening hadn't even started yet.

Thankfully, the rest of the preparations didn't take as long as the dress selection. Jose quickly did my hair in a simple chignon bun and applied a minimal amount of makeup. I think he purposely did a half assed job because he was still mad about my interference with Mel, but I didn't mind. I realized there really wasn't much he could work with. My glasses took up most of the real estate on my face so even if he had wanted to really go to town, it'd all be wasted. Anything he applied on my eyes would be magnified ten-fold, which even I knew was a bad look.

Finally after hours of preparation, Mel and I were ready to leave. She had rented a limo to us take up the half a block to the arrival line. I didn't even have the energy argue that it was stupid and we'd probably get there faster if we walked. Apparently some things just weren't done, according to Mel. My nerves were already frayed and my patience was at an all time low, so I just keep my mouth shut and tried to brace myself to make it through the evening without snapping someone's head off.

***

We arrived at the gala unfashionably early. Mel held onto my arm as we headed towards the red carpet. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest at the prospect of walking down that daunting 500 foot gauntlet of press and photographers. This was something I was dreading. I had even held on to the brief hope that we could skip it all together. Mel was adamant that we walk it though.

She was one of the nicest and most down to earth people I knew, but she did have her diva moments. It was during those times that I wanted to throttle her. Mel had it in her head since she was a teen that when she ever got the opportunity to attend the Eichendorf Gala, she'd walk the red carpet. Luckily, no one knew who we were, so we made it through unmolested.

Once inside the gala, I breathed a momentary sigh of relief. I thought the hardest part of my evening was over, but it was only just beginning.

"Oh look, there's my mother. We should go say hello," Mel said, grabbing me by the arm and leading the way towards the other end of the ballroom.

I braced myself for the cold looks and disdain I'd receive and wasn't disappointed. After air kissing her daughter's cheeks, she stood back and looked Mel over. Her lips pinched and her eyes narrowed as she silently appraised her daughter's appearance. I could see the anxiety on Mel's face as she turned a slightly pinker shade. I, on the other hand, was completely ignored, as if I were a part of the decorations. I was actually relived that she wasn't turning her critical glare in my direction, but I did feel bad for Mel nonetheless.

When she was finally done with her perusal, she gave Mel a curt nod and then turned her full attention to me. It was like I could hear her thoughts as she looked me up from my borrowed dress and glasses, to my hair and makeup, which I was sure didn't meet her approval. I was glad she didn't give voice to them, even though her expression told me everything I needed to know. I liked to think of myself as tough, but there were still some people that intimidated me and Cora Abelgard was one of them. I dared even the toughest linebacker to face her laser stare and not tremble beneath it.

"I'm surprised to see you here," she finally said to me. "But I guess Melanie invited you."

"Uh...yeah, I guess, I mean she did invite me, yeah."

I hated myself for sounding like an idiot and giving this woman the satisfaction of unnerving me, but I couldn't help it. She was terrifying and she knew it. Thankfully she left soon after to go mingle with guests she deemed more important than me or her daughter. I didn't even bat an eye at the rude way she left us without so much as a backward glance or a goodbye.

"I think the hardest part of the evening is over," Mel said to me. She perked up once her mother was out of sight and began to look around the ballroom in awe.

I had to admit it was an impressive sight. As bad as she was at being a mother, Cora Abelgard really knew how to throw a party. The space was wide and airy, but the lanterns strewn throughout the high ceilings gave the place a more intimate atmosphere. A large space was cleared out in the middle of the room for the dance floor. The tables were decked out in bright blue and red chinoiserie style prints with exotic and lush floral centerpieces. There was even a makeshift koi pond underneath the lighted glass floors giving the impression we were walking on water.

"Come on let's go get a drink," I said, heading towards the nearly empty bar on the opposite side of the room.

When I got to the bar, Mel wasn't behind me. She had remained right where we had been standing and was talking a tall gentleman. I didn't recognize him, and truthfully, I was glad to have a minute alone. Everything was so overwhelming and the last thing I wanted to hear was Mel rhapsodizing about what a great party this was and how wonderful it was to be here.

Once my drink arrived, I took a large gulp. It felt good and warm going down and I immediately ordered another one.

"Hey there, beautiful," I heard a voice purr near my ear. I turned around abruptly and bumped into some guy standing right behind me. The drink he had in his hand spilled all over the front of my dress.

"Oh I'm so sorry," he said. He reached out his arm like he was trying to dry me off with his little cocktail napkin, but his aim was much too close to my breasts for my comfort. If I weren't so annoyed already, I might have found the situation amusing.

I brushed his hands away, and grabbed the stack of napkins the bartender held out to me. "Damnit!" I bit out, noticing the large dark wet stain on the front of my dress.

"Are you all right?" he asked again.

I finally looked up at him. I really got a good look and I could feel my blood beginning to boil. The man appeared to be in his early to mid thirties, with dirty blond hair that was cropped short at the sides and longer at the top. He was a little taller than me and would be considered handsome but for his smug expression and bloated face, probably due to a life of idleness and excess. He was also clearly drunk and even more clearly ogling me in my wet dress. As if I hadn't already had enough to deal with, I now had to add fending off drunk lechers to the list of ordeals I'd been subjected to already.

"I didn't mean to spill my drink on you," he said, smiling at me in what he probably thought was a charming manner, but just came off as creepy. "My name's Maxwell." He stood there and held out his hand for me to shake.

I ignored his hand and glared at him. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you go accosting people you obviously don't know. Did you think I'd melt at your feet or something with you whispering in my ear? You're not smooth, not remotely attractive to me and you're obviously drunk," I seethed.

As I continued my rant, I noticed a small crowd had gathered around us. Maxwell's face had turned a dark shade of red, from anger or embarrassment, I didn't know. A part of me cringed as I let the hateful words fly out of my mouth. I knew I'd regret it as soon I calmed down again, but I felt like I couldn't control myself. I'd been pushed past my breaking point and one look down at my ruined dress just got my blood pressure up even more. Without looking at anyone, I held my chin up and stalked out of the ballroom for the nearest restroom.

My dress wasn't the only thing that needed attending to at that moment. I needed time to get myself under control. Thankfully, the restrooms were empty when I entered. I was able to dry most of the drink off under the hand dryers. With the pleated folds in the front, I felt confident that no one could tell there'd been a stain there unless they looked closely.

Once I got the dress taken care of, I began to replay that scene over again in my mind. I knew I had overreacted and had lashed out in anger. The evening and everything about it reminded me so much of high school and being teased and taunted daily. When I turned around and saw Maxwell's smug smile after he had spilled his drink on me, it felt like he had done it on purpose--like he somehow knew I didn't belong and I was a big joke.

Rationally, I knew it was unlikely, but the paranoia was always there, even though sometimes it was more pronounced than others. That's why I hated going to these functions. I always felt too on edge, and on the lookout for any sign of mischief. I'd already been through my fair share of humiliation and I wasn't about to let it happen again.