Malachi.
That’s what Claire was really worried about, to be honest.
Jack was about to see her walk into the room on Malachi’s arm, and she was going to have to wait until they reached the bottom of the stairs to acknowledge how misleading that was.
She had to be elegant first. Then she could wade into the minefield of finding Jack and explaining Malachi.
But how, exactly? What could she say? That he was just some guy who showed up at work, gave her a dress, and brought her to the ball as his date? That it was totally business between perfect strangers?
There’s gotta be a better way to say it.
If so, she had about thirty seconds to think of it.
On the other side of the mirror, the sonata came to a close, unseen gloved hands pattering a polite applause.
Malachi looked down her way. “That’s our cue. You ready?”
For everyone to see her walk in on his arm? “Never.”
“Then now is as good a time as any,” he teased like a big brother, making her feel like there might be two seconds of fun in all this.
“Any tips?” she asked.
He smiled. “If someone can see you in their mirror, you can see them as well. This allows you to see everyone in attendance when we walk in.”
She perked up at that.
“You’ll be able to find Jack or anyone else you may be looking for. Wherever they are, you can watch them right back.”
Intrigue replaced horror as she looked back at the mirror. “Really?”
Malachi nodded. “They see you, you see them.”
That was…egalitarian of them.
“Please step to your marks,” the doorman said, indicating two marks on the ground ahead of them. The four steps it took Malachi to reach them were ten steps for Claire, but the moment they were firmly in position, the mirrors separated like fireflies against a dark sky before forming a tunnel around carpeted stairs.
“Eyes forward,” he whispered. “Resist the urge to look up. Everything above you is a replica of what’s on your horizon line.”
Translation: If she looked up, she’d look like an idiot walking down the stairs with her mouth gaping.
Claire was still open to the idea that Malachi might be a bad guy in all this, but the man gave out good pro tips. She had to grant him that.
Overhead, the sound of trumpets sang out a short, bright tune, followed by a man’s voice speaking clearly into the silence that followed.
“His Majesty proudly receives Malachi of the North, and his date, Miss Claire Ramsey.”
Things stayed really quiet after the announcement, and Claire could feel the eyes waiting for them to walk down the stairs.
“There are fifty-four steps,” he said. “Ready?”
For anyone else, the mention of the number of steps might have been random, but it filled her with a small sense of control. Fifty-four was a multiple of three, which meant all she had to do was count to three eighteen times before the mortifying parade was over.
She could do that.
Glancing up at her escort, she nodded and off they went.
Reflections flashed, creating a sense of walking into a flare as they took their first step into the mirrored tunnel. If Claire saw something like this at a haunted house, she’d run the other way, but the lure of finally seeing Jack had her pressing forward.
After blinking against the initial brightness of several hundred reflections, Claire searched the sea of images for the one face that would make everything she’d done up until this point okay.
Her first thought was that she was far from being the youngest in attendance. There were several teenagers present.
Her second thought was how pleasant the sea of costume perfection was to look at. Extravagant beauty everywhere she looked.
Where are you, Jack? she thought as she was met with a kaleidoscope of faces clothed in creams and golds.
Gold. Not silver. She was the only person wearing silver.
That worry fizzled when she realized that exactly two men in the images staring back wore colored suits. One wore a highly decorated military uniform; the other wore a cobalt blue suit from the same fashion era as the sea of ivories.
Jack.
He was the only man wearing blue and she was the only woman wearing silver. In fact, they kind of matched.
Jack was looking at her—mouth parted in shock and eyes panicked. His initial, unfiltered response didn’t seem to be happy to see her.
Unsettled by his response, Claire looked to another mirror—any mirror—while she got up the nerve to look Jack in the eye again and—
Bear! Claire’s mind screamed in alarm, fixating on one of the reflections.
Her eyes hadn’t lied. She was indeed looking at a bear lounging next to an aristocratic-looking woman as she lounged on a chaise sofa, holding the end of the bear’s leash like a proper teacup.
A living, breathing bear…a teacup’s grip away from changing the color scheme of the entire party.
How was everyone okay with that?
When Claire felt herself starting to freak out, her eyes instinctively found Jack again.
He was looking at her dress this time, eyes wide. He loved it. He wasn’t even breathing as his eyes moved over her before finding hers again. The moment their eyes locked, he exhaled, his lips mouthing the word: Beautiful.
How did he do that? With one word—one smile—she felt herself come back into balance. She was just a few steps away from not being alone anymore.
Claire smiled in relief, not needing to see her cheeks to know they were turning pink. Hopefully, some of the makeup she was wearing would cover that up. But there wasn’t enough makeup in the world to cover up a goofy grin, and she had that going, too.
Next thing she knew, the tunnel pulled away, revealing a parliament-sized room with a twelve-stepped pedestal throne in the center. The vast marbled halls around the throne were filled with dancing, eating, and conversations.
Claire kept her eyes on the pedestal, however, because the only man in a blue suit in the room sat at the top of it … with a redhead whispering into his ear.
The spiky-haired woman looked like she’d plucked her dress off the ballroom-toddler rack and squeezed in. She was shorter than Claire—unusual—with hair the color of coals in a fire pit. And there was something unsettling about the look in her eyes. She seemed to be studying Claire as if trying to figure out which Pinterest Fail category she best fit into.
Well, certainly not the Ballroom Toddler category, Claire thought, raising her chin up competitively as she sized the other woman up.
Who was she?
What was she doing so close to Jack?
And, when the little fire-head spoke, why did Jack frown at Claire?
And what did he just say back to her?
The need to know who the other woman was to Jack filled Claire’s chest like a righteous rage.
Exactly one woman got to whisper in Jack Cavanaugh’s ear, and that woman was Claire Ramsey.
Claire didn’t realize her expression was moving into a scowl until a woman stepped into their path, blocking Claire while focusing only on Malachi.
“You’re late, and she’s not on the list,” the woman said with such elegance and authority that Claire couldn’t imagine arguing with her.
“Good evening, Mother,” Malachi said, pressing a kiss to each of the woman’s cheeks. “I’m glad you went with the pearls.”
His mother returned his air kisses—eyes suspicious, lips unsmiling as they moved through the courtesies. “What are you about, my boy?”
Malachi elegantly gestured in Claire’s direction. “I’m introducing Cinderella to her official fairy godmother.” His hand swept the woman’s direction. “You.”
When Claire offered a shy smile up at the woman, the woman did not look back. It was like she didn’t exist—like Claire was a fly she was pretending not to notice on the wall. A fly in a fancy silver dress.
Claire’s
smile faltered.
“Best case scenario,” his mother mused, “she’s here as a decoy for Abed; worst case scenario, she’s not.”
Malachi shrugged as if to say You’re welcome. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re the most boring mother in the room.”
The corner of his mother’s mouth ticked up, before snapping back to monarchal indifference. It happened so fast that Claire almost missed it. But it happened. The woman had a sense of humor under that intimidating visage. Somewhere.
The mother’s eyes were steady as she looked at her son. “How far would I have to go back in time to pick up when you set this little bauble into motion?”
Little bauble? Claire puffed her chest up to announce that she was a person, not a fly on the wall, but the impulse passed quickly. The woman was intimidating in profile, and Claire wasn’t sure if she could survive full eye contact.
Best not to risk it.
Little bauble was just fine.
“Well, Mother,” Malachi said on a sigh. “This all started that one night my dad got lucky—”
A white flash of silk slapped Malachi on the arm before returning to a prim handclasp posture with cat-like speed. It was like his mother never moved and he’d just decided to stop talking mid-sentence.
“I’ll figure this out,” she warned, a little play in her competitive eyes.
Malachi pulled his watch from his pocket, glancing at it. “I’ll time you.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed competitively and she started away.
Malachi called after her. “Any advice for your Cinderella, Fairy Godmother?”
Her head tilted, considering the question, before looking back at Malachi. “Tell her: Be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.”
Then she walked away without a backward glance.
Malachi turned to Claire with an apologetic grin. “She says—”
“I heard,” Claire said, smiling back for some reason.
“Sorry she was a little rude,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Claire replied, her eyes finding Jack again. This time the woman in the toddler ball gown was nowhere in sight. “You can meet my mom someday, and we’ll call it even.”
Malachi laughed just as Jack sent her a smile from across the room.
“That said, she offers wise counsel.” Malachi peered around the room like he was taking a mental tally of something. He hadn’t looked at Jack once, Claire noticed.
So who—or what—was he looking for?
Claire started searching the areas that seemed to hold Malachi’s interest only to realize that a lot of people were eyeing her with equal interest.
She and Malachi were the current focus of the room.
Claire felt her smile go plastic in terror just as a waiter appeared out of nowhere. “May I offer drinks?”
Yes, Claire thought, relieved to have something to do with her hands. Drinking would be unwise under the circumstances, but she definitely needed a prop to handle so she didn’t start nervously primping or something.
Just hold the glass and act like no one is looking at you, she thought, searching out Jack again.
The fire-head was back talking to him, and Claire glared over the rim of her glass as she took a sip and wondered what the other woman was whispering into her man’s ear.
Chapter 9
Jack
“On a scale of one to ten,” Tiki purred into Jack’s ear like a trap. “How much do you want to run down those stairs right now?”
Jack knew better than to answer, especially since Tiki already knew.
The uptick in his heart rate whenever he saw Claire was now clouded by the introduction of a single thought. The thought Tiki had planted just moments before Claire’s name was called out by the herald and she appeared out of nowhere.
On Malachi’s arm.
And while that was problematic, it took a distant second to the concerns he had about one thought.
Claire? A phoenix?
No. It wasn’t possible. She wasn’t the type. At all.
It couldn’t be her.
“It can’t be her,” Jack said, but Tiki looked iffy.
“Never say never,” Tiki mused. “That said, she has a long way to go if she is. I can see the attraction you’ve got going, but your girl is severely undercooked, my friend. She needs, like, another decade in the oven before she’s anything close to phoenix material.”
A decade? That would be a long time for a phoenix.
A phoenix hardly ever lasted that long in the spotlight. A year, sure. Often two, although the average phoenix lifespan was said to be around three years.
Their tales were always high drama, and Claire definitely wasn’t like that.
“It can’t be her,” he muttered.
Tiki gave a little clap of excitement. “But what if she is? Are you going to try to hold her back from her potential because you want to keep her for yourself?” She pressed the flats of her fingers into his cheeks in feigned horror. “No matter which way you choose, you lose. What to do? Give into the temptation to sabotage her so you can keep her, or let her be stolen from you by the fiery furnace of her choosing?” She squealed and looked at Claire with excitement. “It’s like watching a great new melodrama!”
Her words buzzed in his ears like a circling insect, only more grating because everything she said was true. If Claire was a phoenix, she would never belong with him.
And Jack didn’t know if he could live with that.
Chapter 10
Claire
Claire could officially celebrate getting one thing right so far: Malachi was a high-ticket item in the world she’d just walked into. Every female they passed gave Malachi a long look of open appreciation when he came into view.
Claire had anticipated Malachi catching a few lingering looks from women, on the sly. She’d been right about the looks, but wrong about the sly. Guests were much more open in their appreciation of him as he escorted Claire over to the lounge area with celebrity-like swagger.
The reactions allowed her to deduce that Malachi had the respect of people at the party, but she still didn’t know whether he skewed good or evil when it came to her. A clear signal to either resist or assist the man on her arm would go a long way in cleaning up mental static that ultimately led to paralysis in her mind.
For now, all she knew was at least half the women at the ball harbored secret thoughts about Malachi. After sending him hungry glances, most of them eyed her with mild curiosity before visibly dismissing her as irrelevant to some larger equation.
It was insulting and a relief, all balled up into one.
“Keep breathing,” Malachi said softly, off her right.
“What?” she said, feeling like she was popping back into the moment.
“You were holding your breath,” he said, so only she could hear. “Breathe.”
Claire’s next inhale felt particularly refreshing, making her fairly certain Malachi was not lying about holding it. She did that when she panicked. She just usually caught herself before other people noticed.
“Ah,” he said, tone bright as if he expected someone besides her to take note of it. “There’s a familiar face for you. Let’s go say hi, shall we?”
It took a moment for Claire’s eyes to find the face he spoke of—perfect features frowning and glaring their way with an intensity that rivaled Claire’s own mother.
Margot was not happy.
The good news? She looked like she might be madder at Malachi than Claire. The coward in her took comfort in that.
A flash of guilt at her willingness to throw Malachi under the bus had her glancing at him in shame. But the man she saw did not look afraid. He was too busy being the model of eloquence, while sending Margot the gaming look of a mouse luring a cat into a hawk trap.
He clearly knew what he was doing, while Claire still didn’t know where they were.
Margot’s wrath was officially all his.
As they approached, Claire realized
Margot was the only woman more fixated on her dress than on Malachi.
The silver dress in a sea of ivories.
Claire really did want to have a talk with Malachi about that color choice. But not now. At the moment, she had just enough time to take a breath and force a smile before they came face-to-face with Margot.
Malachi bowed and Claire curtsied while Margot frowned from a dress that looked like it belonged in a painting. Claire still felt beautiful but was blown away at how timeless and perfect her boss looked, no matter what she wore. Margot donned the persona of a Rococo queen with the same confidence and authority as the tailored business attire Claire was more accustomed to.
And she was beautiful in both.
Claire felt a little weird about how often she noticed that. She’d known the woman over a year. It seemed time to stop noticing. Margot was more than a pretty face. In fact, her face was the least impressive thing about her.
And that was saying something.
When Malachi straightened from his bow, Margot looked ready to smack him and he looked ready to take the hit with a winning smirk.
Then they both found their poker faces again—assuming a look of propriety while alleviating none of the tension.
These two had history.
Claire literally held her breath as she waited to see who would make the first move, but the static in the air vanished the moment Margot glanced Claire’s way. “Great dress, Claire.”
Three words she’d never heard in that sequence from her boss. “Uh, thanks.”
“Hi, Malachi,” Margot said, staring the man down. “What. The. Hell.”
Malachi tipped his head. “Hey, Mo. You look top-tier, per usual.”
Mo?
Never in Claire’s bravest dreams could she imagine calling her boss that. And yet, she was pretty sure she could never unhear it now.
And top-tier?
At that moment, Claire was pretty certain she was standing on the arm of the bravest man she’d ever met. Jack was cunning, yes, but he’d never go so full-stupid as to call Margot “Mo” or “top-tier”. That was daredevil territory.
“So glad we ran into you,” he said, removing his arm from Claire’s and taking a step to the side. “If you don’t mind, I have someone I must speak with. I trust Claire is safe in your care? You two must have a lot to catch up on.”
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