The Billionaire's Masquerade

by Laurie Gene

  Nick nodded.

  Abby cleared her throat. "I'm babbling again," she said. "Is there anything else?"

  "No, Abs," he said softly. "You've been a lot of help. Thank you."

  She just wished she could have helped more.

  Chapter 11: Nick

  There wasn't much to be done from now until the masquerade later that month, which was why Nick had Abby focus her time and efforts on coordinating that.

  A week from the masquerade, Bill called the office and informed them that Pamela gave birth to a healthy baby boy and would not be attending the masquerade just because she needed time to recover and she wanted to spend every second of it with the baby.

  Under normal circumstances, Nick would have been slightly annoyed because this was Pamela's idea as much as it was his, but knowing that Abby would be there, knowing that Abby would take care of any issues that came up was enough for him to put any worry or stress aside. The only thing Nick, himself, had to worry about was getting dressed up and making a public appearance. More than that, he needed to ensure that Bonnie wasn't going to cause a scene.

  It was four o'clock on a Saturday. Doors to the masquerade opened in one hour, but nothing officially began until six. Nick had already booked a driver that would pick him up at five, but he needed to get dressed before he could worry about anything else. His mother and grandmother would be attending, but they were going to find their own way, which meant he was on his own. This would have been fine if he knew how to tie a bow tie. Part of him wished he would have just opted for a clip-on, but his pride—and a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father's—adamantly refused that he did such a thing.

  In the end, he managed to succeed but only because he followed the directions of a Youtube video.

  When he had finally finished, he gave himself a cursory glance in the mirror. This was the first event he would be attending by himself, as a newly single man. By this time, everyone knew that he and Bonnie had broken up. It wasn't long before she found someone to shop her exclusive story with, and the gossip outlets tore after the story like a wildfire following gasoline.

  In a way, Nick felt sorry for Bonnie. It wasn't like she needed the money, not really. She had a lucrative career as a former model turned fashion designer. She was just trying to start drama. That, and she wanted to hurt him. She wanted to embarrass him.

  What she didn't know was Nick had done that to himself enough when he was younger. He’d made poor decisions that caused him to be in papers, the headlines reflecting those choices so everyone knew he made a mistake. It was mortifying, but it gave him a thick skin. In his mind, he had one of two choices: he could be a victim, or he could persevere. He decided on the latter. Victim was not a word he allowed to be part of his vocabulary.

  He took a step back and turned, making sure everything about the tuxedo fit him well, that he hadn't sat in anything to leave a stain on his backside, that there weren't any wrinkles or tears that would make it obvious he hadn't done a thorough inspection of himself. While he would never consider himself vain, there were times when appearance mattered, and this was one of those times.

  When he was satisfied with how he looked, he grabbed his cellphone and called his mother.

  She answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

  "Hey, Mom, it's Nick."

  "Yes, I'm aware."

  "You guys need anything?"

  His mother sighed. "I don't think so," she said. "We're almost ready. Gran is picking out the jewelry she's planning on wearing tonight. We should be there in an hour, I'd say."

  Nick nodded even though his mother couldn't see him.

  "Well, if there's anything I can do—" he began.

  "I'll let you know," his mother finished. "Honey, this is your night. As much as I appreciate your offer, you have a lot of other things to focus on." There was a brief pause. "I heard what Bonnie said about you. I heard the interview she did. The gossip industry picked that up quickly and ran with it, didn't they?"

  "Yeah," Nick said. This wasn't exactly the subject he wanted to discuss with his mother, at least not right now. However, there was no way he could tell that to her. She needed to get whatever it was she had to say off her chest and then they could forget about it.

  "She... well, I suppose it doesn't matter," his mother said. "She made her choice on how to handle everything, didn't she? I should be surprised, but I'm not. She didn't waste any time."

  "She doesn't matter, Mom," he said as he paced the room. Conversations about Bonnie made him antsy and he didn't want to feel this particular way the night of the masquerade. "When I broke up with her, she was upset. I understand that. But I needed to do it. I feel so much better. If this is how she wants to handle it, so be it. It's not my problem anymore."

  "Have you heard what she's been saying about you?" his mother asked. There was a wild persistence in her voice, as though she wanted him to know just how badly his ex was running her mouth.

  Nick liked the fact that she was so protective of him. It made him feel special, that no matter what happened, his mother always had his back. But this was something he had come to terms with before Bonnie had opened her mouth to the press. If she was going to choose to behave this way, so be it. There was nothing he could do about it. In all honesty, he was just glad it was over.

  "I have not," he said. "In all honesty, Mom, I avoid the gossip rags. Even before I broke up with Bonnie, I avoided them. I know they need to do whatever they can in order to sell their papers. I know they're just trying to do their job. Let Bonnie say what she wants to say. Let her play the victim. The only thing I care about is the fact that I'm not with her anymore."

  "Nick, she's saying you cheated on her with a waitress at her friend's wedding," his mother said, cutting in as though Nick could live in his fairytale land if he wanted, but that didn't mean that she needed to do the same thing. "You told me nothing happened with the waitress. Bonnie thinks differently. She's painting you to be this horrible creature who's both inconsiderate and cruel."

  "Mom, you know I didn't cheat on her with the waitress," Nick said.

  "I know that. You told me that and I believe you. But that doesn't mean I'm okay with her lying to the press to make herself feel better about you breaking up with her. I bet it makes her feel as though she didn't do anything wrong."

  Nick stopped pacing and took a seat on the edge of his bed.

  "Mom," he said in a gentle voice. "What's wrong? This has riled you up, but it's not the first bad thing someone has said about me and it certainly won't be the last."

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone. Even though he couldn't see his mother, he knew she was probably chewing on her bottom lip and ruffling her bangs with her free hand.

  "I just don't like that she's willing to say such things about you, Nick," she said in a low voice. "After all you did for her? Is she going to be at the masquerade tonight even though you guys broke up?"

  Nick sighed through his nose. He couldn't exactly ask her not to come. He wouldn't do that. However, that didn't mean that he wanted her there. And, the more he thought about it now that his mother had brought it up, the more he realized that there was a good chance she would show up just to spite him. If she could start drama or embarrass him, she would. It was her way of getting revenge for breaking up with her.

  "Honestly, Mom, I don't know," he admitted, "but I wouldn't be surprised."

  "Is your waitress going to be there?"

  "Mom," Nick said. His voice was gentle but there was a bit of a warning laced in his tone. "She is not my waitress. And she works for me. She's taking Pam's place now that Pam is on leave."

  "So, she's a waitress and an executive assistant?" his mother asked. "Why is she working all of these jobs?"

  "I'm glad she's motivated," Nick said. He didn't know why he felt the need to jump in and defend Abby to his mother, but he did. "I'm glad that she's willing to get her hands dirty and do the job. I'm glad—"

  "You like her."
His mother didn't seem to care about interrupting him at all.

  He shook his head and looked at himself in the mirror before grabbing a piece of lint and flicking it off his tuxedo.

  "You like this waitress,” his mother continued. “Assistant. Whatever she is."

  "Her name is Abby," Nick pointed out.

  "Abby," her mother said as though she wanted to test it out herself. "Abby. I like her name. Sounds gritty yet feminine, like she can handle the tough times and do it in a cute pair of heels."

  "When have you ever cared about my love life?"

  "Oh, so now you're in love with her?"

  Nick stopped, dropping his arm to his side. He knew she was just teasing him, but her skill at doing so was unmatched and a little unnerving. She was just glad she didn't do that to Bonnie. Bonnie would have pitched a fit and Nick would have never heard the end of it.

  "I'm just kidding," his mother said. "And I care because after what happened with Bonnie, I don't want to invest in someone who turns out to be a miserable, dramatic person. If anything, I want someone... Well, I won't get into it. You're a grown man. You can choose who you want for yourself. I trust you and I trust God will put the right girl in your path when you're ready for her."

  Nick opened his mouth but no words came out. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, but he smiled.

  "You almost ready?" he asked her.

  "You'll probably be going home with someone, Nick," his mother said. "Gran will want to leave fifteen minutes after we get there. Why don't we meet you at the place? It'll be easier for everyone."

  "If you insist," Nick said. He wouldn't have minded picking up his family. At least it meant he wasn't left alone with his thoughts of Abby and whether or not he was in love with her so soon after his break-up with Bonnie.

  Chapter 12: Abby

  Abby took a deep breath and pressed her hand flat on her stomach. She had hoped that her stepfamily would have left by now so she could attend the masquerade without them knowing. However, she had to be there by the time the doors opened, just in case, there were any problems. Because Pamela had opted not to go—for a very good reason—Abby was now in charge of everything.

  But her stepfamily was running late to the masquerade. This should not have been a surprise to her, but it was. Instead of getting herself ready and taking the time to curl her hair and do her makeup, Abby was stuck getting everyone else ready. She had just finished curling Saffron's hair when Saffron wailed how much she hated it and demanded that Abby straighten it instead. Curling it had taken nearly an hour, and because Saffron's hair was thick and long, she could only imagine how long that would take.

  The minutes ticked away. She laced corsets that were part of dresses, stuffed sweaty feet into shoes, and tied necklaces that belonged to her mother on thick necks all the while biting her bottom lip and keeping herself from saying something she might regret. The last thing she needed was to get into a fight.

  Any more tardiness could compromise her entire job. Heck, if they knew her job was riding on tonight, Abby was certain they would purposefully sabotage it just to upset her. Instead, she said nothing. She bit her bottom lip so hard, it bled.

  "You've been awfully good about this," Angelica said as Abby brushed her long, dark hair. "Are you sure you aren't upset that you won't be attending the masquerade? I know how badly you wanted to go. I just don't think you have anything suitable to wear and you know I couldn't afford to get us all new dresses."

  Abby took a deep breath. She pressed her free hand against her stomach once again, as though trying to keep any smart retorts from jumping to her throat. Angelica met her eyes in the mirror, waiting for Abby to resume her brushing.

  "Yes," she said slowly. "Of course I understand. I don't mind staying here."

  "Good," Angelica said, nodding once in approval. "I noticed you did have a lovely dress hanging in your closet, but Trixie washed it and that was not the right thing to do. I think she was trying to be helpful."

  Abby bit her lip harder. A strong, metallic taste seeped into her mouth and she had to swallow in hopes that she wouldn't gag anything up.

  That was a lie. Abby knew that was a lie, and she knew Angelica knew that was a lie. If she wanted to pretend otherwise, that was her choice, but she wished she didn't look her in the eye and pretend Trixie would get off the couch and do a chore that didn't somehow benefit her in some way.

  "You'll be okay?" Angelica asked, looking at Abby through the mirror.

  Abby's breath caught in her throat. Every now and then, there would be moments—rare moments—where Angelica sounded sincere. Like she meant what she was saying. Like she cared. There was nothing more that Abby wanted than for Angelica to care about her. She knew Angelica would never look at her as an actual daughter, and that was okay, but to be regarded as someone worth caring about...

  When Abby was younger, she clung to that tone and it compelled her to cook and clean and do things she didn't want to do. It compelled her to do things her stepsisters weren't required to do. Abby had had a mother and a good one at that, but that didn't mean part of her didn't want to be accepted by a maternal figure. It was something she wanted desperately.

  And Angelica knew that.

  And she took advantage of it.

  Abby understood that as she grew up, and yet, even knowing Angelica was just faking it in order to manipulate her, she could not help but cling to the slight possibility that maybe, just maybe, she was worthy of this woman's love. That when she spoke sincerely, she genuinely cared about Abby.

  "I'll be okay," Abby forced herself to say. She almost confessed that she would be attending the masquerade as part of her job, but she didn't. She couldn't trust Angelica, even though she wanted to.

  Angelica nodded.

  Abby finished brushing her hair and began to divide the long black tresses into sections. Angelica always preferred her hair up in some way, like she was some royal fashionista from the sixteenth century. Despite her age, Angelica could pull off many modern styles simply because she knew what to wear for her body, how to apply makeup and different hairstyles that flattered her face.

  "Good," Angelica said. "I would hate to have to worry about you while I and the girls are in attendance. Could I trouble you for something, dear? I cannot say when we'll get home, but would you brew us decaffeinated coffee so we have something warm to drink before bed? Your coffee is simply divine, and you know what they say. Coffee tastes better when someone else makes it."

  Abby had the sudden urge to pull Angelica's hair so the roots yanked at her scalp. Instead, she bit her lip again and sucked in a breath. She continued to braid the long hair, though her hands were shaking slightly at having to bottle in her emotions. Because she had been doing it for so long, Abby thought she was used to it, but judging by her body's reaction, it was still a struggle for her.

  "Of course," she forced herself to say.

  Of course, she wouldn’t be home, but she wasn't going to tell Angelica that.

  She finished braiding her stepmother's hair and then rolled the braids up and pinned them to the top of Angelica's head. Angelica had taught her how to do many intricate hairstyles around the time her father died and she deemed Abby as a worthy hairstylist. At the time, Abby was just grateful Angelica wanted her to help with anything and jumped at the chance. If she got really good at this, then maybe Angelica would love her, even a little.

  Now, she came to realize that no matter what Abby did, Angelica reserved her love for people she thought were worthy of it in the first place. Abby, unfortunately, did not make the cut no matter what she did to win Angelica over.

  That didn't stop Abby from trying. Even now, she recognized how important it was for her to at least impress her stepmother, to at least get some form of compliment from her even if it wasn't love.

  Pathetic, a voice inside of her head said with a snarl. You are better than that.

  Abby knew the voice was right.

  She stepped back and looked over
her handiwork. It was practically perfect. She wished she had the patience to allow herself to do her own hair in such a complex style. Then again, she wasn't a fan of those things and didn't think she could stay seated in a chair for an hour or two simply to get her hair done for an event that would last as long as it took to get ready.

  "Thank you, Abby," Angelica said, standing up. "And thank you for being so understanding about why you simply can't attend the masquerade tonight." She turned and leaned toward Abby.

  Abby's eyebrows shot to her forehead. It almost appeared as though Angelica was going to give her a hug when she pulled back. Abby hated the flare of disappointment in her body and immediately dropped her eyes to the floor. She didn't want Angelica to see the unwanted emotion on her face. Abby didn't look up until her stepmother left the room.

  It took the three of them another half an hour before they finally left. Abby stayed in her room, pretending to clean up the little mess that had accumulated there, but, in all honesty, she wanted to avoid their happy faces, their discussions of how late they should be in order to get attention, and how many good-looking bachelors were going to be there.

  If she did not seek the shelter of her own room, Abby was sure they would be able to snuff out that she was going as well, and that was not something she wanted to deal with at the moment. Let them think she was sad. Let them laugh at her misery. She would wait it out. She always did.

  When the front door finally closed and the lock latched in place, Abby immediately started to get dressed. She couldn't take the time she wanted to dedicate to herself, but she did what she could. She didn't have a fairy godmother who could wave her wand and turn her rags into a sparkling dress and her hair into something wonderful.

  Which was fine because Abby had no problem saving herself.

  She removed her clothes and slipped on the dress, and then took a seat at Angelica's boudoir. It was not a place she was supposed to be without permission, but she didn't care. Time was pressing.