Disenchanted

by L. D. Davis

  What did I think would happen? That I would go to Manhattan with Marco, looking like the help’s help with my cheap, plain clothes? Everything the man wore, right down to his underwear, had designer labels. He wore a ten-thousand-dollar watch. I knew, because I’d looked it up one day while he was in the shower. He didn’t pick up his sunglasses from a flea market booth like I had mine. They were Cartier aviators. I’d looked those up, too. The price of a pair of nice shades astounded me. On any given day, even in his most casual attire, Marco Mangini wore more in clothes and accessories than the cost of my entire wardrobe. Side by side, even in my best outfit, he looked fantastic and I was drab.

  It was no wonder, then, that he had answered Veladona so quickly. He couldn’t take me to New York, amongst his upper-crust friends, looking the way I did. The man was sophisticated, always, and had been with sophisticated women in the past—at least, as far as I could tell by trolling the internet. I clearly didn’t fit his usual mold, which again left more questions in my head.

  I could have told him no, told them all no. I could’ve told Marco to take me as I am or not at all, but they were just clothes. In the end, they were just clothes, and they didn’t change who I was. They didn’t.

  They didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  I had to give Veladona and her cronies some credit. They were good at what they did, even if rather harsh. The dress was beautiful, more so than I remembered when I’d tried it on last week.

  The V-back top to my two-piece dress was a sleeveless, gold metallic lace material that gleamed when light hit it. There were a few inches of my bare torso on view above the emerald green, high-waisted, lace-trimmed, full A-line tulle skirt. It was long and full enough to hide the severity of my limp, and to also hide the fact that I was only wearing flats and not heels. Amazingly, despite my slight frame, I appeared to have a few curves.

  I had planned to do my own hair and makeup, but Marco had surprised me in the morning with a trip to some exclusive spa. They not only waxed, plucked, and buffed me to a shine, but they also did my hair and makeup. My hair had grown long enough over the past several months to get it braided into a crown around my head, held in place by hidden pins and golden, sparkly butterfly clips. The makeup used my pale skin as an advantage and made me appear almost ethereal. A nude lipstick, pale pink eyeshadow only on the lid, and pink eyeliner that shimmered and sparkled. My lashes were somehow thickened and lengthened and painted black, and something, maybe a blush, shimmered across my cheekbones.

  “You are beautiful,” Marco’s voice came from behind me.

  I looked in the mirror, over my shoulder to where he stood by the bedroom door. He was stunning in a tux and seemed perfectly at home in it. I, on the other hand, felt like a character from Animal Farm, parading around in clothes like a moron; except, unlike the proud animals in the book, I knew I was being a moron. I wondered if other people would see me for what I really was the same way the outside animals had seen the morons inside despite how they sat up, dressed like real people.

  “I bought something for you to wear with your dress tonight.”

  I watched his approach in the mirror until he was at my side, one hand behind his back. He brought it forward and presented me with a small black box. I started when I saw it, my head automatically going to marriage proposals before I realized how silly that was. Although our relationship had been moving steadily forward, I strongly doubted Marco was ready to ask for my hand in marriage.

  Still, there was a little bit of trepidation as I watched him open the box. I almost fainted with relief when I saw the emerald-and-diamond yellow gold studs seated in the white cushion. Then I realized they were probably real emeralds and real diamonds. The earrings weren’t little. My mind tried to take a stab at how many thousands of dollars they cost.

  “I want you to know that I am not trying to impress you,” he said, dipping his head a little to catch my eye. “I know you are not impressed by things like this, but it does not mean you don’t deserve it.”

  I didn’t deserve it. It would hurt him if I declined his gift, though. One thing I’d learned about Marco was that even though he had plenty of money, he did not buy things just because he could. Every purchase was one he thought carefully about—well, accept the shopping spree at Veladona’s last week, but I had a feeling he’d thought about that long before we’d stepped into the boutique.

  “They’re beautiful,” I said with appreciation. “Thank you.”

  I let him put the earrings in my ears. As I admired them, I couldn’t deny that I loved the way they glimmered and sparkled when light hit them.

  “Ready?” He held out a hand.

  I wasn’t. When I was younger, I’d never been nervous in social situations. I used to look forward to parties and meeting new people. I’d been very outgoing and sociable then. Now, the thought of crowds made me anxious, and the idea of meeting anyone new twisted my guts into knots. Luckily, I’d learned how to mask how I really felt, with a confidence etched on my face I didn’t feel. I put on that confident face now, as I put my hand into Marco’s, but like it had been from the very beginning, I knew he saw right through it.

  The party wasn’t in the city as I’d first thought. It was about an hour outside Manhattan in Greenwich, Connecticut. It was a Friday night, though. That hour trip was almost doubled by the time we drove through two tall wrought-iron gates in Marco’s Ferrari. For fuck’s sake, my ass was in a Ferrari.

  We were stopped by what appeared to be hired security only a few feet past the gates. After Marco showed them his invitation and gave his name, we continued up the long drive. The house was mostly hidden behind tall trees at first, but as we drew closer, I was able to see how massive it was. I had been expecting a big home, yes, but not a mansion, not the kind of house you only saw in the movies.

  “Who are these people?” I was in awe as I leaned as far as my seatbelt would let me to stare up at the monstrous place. I mean, really, it wasn’t a house. It was a space station.

  “Brodie and Aiko Herrington.”

  I snapped my head to stare at him. “Herrington? Like…of The Herrington Group?”

  His eyebrows went up in surprise. “You know of them?”

  I snorted indelicately as I turned back to gazing at the mansion. “Well, yeah. When you’re dating a man who has made his wealth in real estate development, you want to do your homework, so you can at least keep up when he wants to talk about work.”

  Marco chuckled. “I’m flattered. What have you learned about them?”

  “Not too much. I know they are one of the largest and oldest private equity real estate funds in the country, and that in recent years they’ve put their feelers out in other countries, and it seems to be going well for them. Brodie is worth, like, twenty billion dollars, which is still less than a quarter of Warren Buffet…but still!” I glared at Marco now, my eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me we were having dinner in a house the size of a small town with a renowned billionaire?”

  “You wouldn’t have come if I told you that,” he responded honestly as he put the car in park a few yards from the front doors.

  Our conversation was suspended as men in suits appeared out of nowhere to open our doors. Marco handed one of the men his car keys along with a tip before he offered me his arm. My heart pounded as my anxiety cranked up. I was about to walk into a room full of the uber rich when I barely had two pennies to rub together. It was a fact that Marco had his own wealth, though I hadn’t been able to ascertain exactly how much he was worth, but that hadn’t mattered to me. His money hadn’t mattered to me. It was, however, disconcerting to know he had such wealthy friends like the Herringtons, because I knew I’d most likely not have anything in common with them. Not a damn thing. It was already an anomaly that Marco and I got along so well. It was highly unlikely I would become besties with his billionaire friends.

  “No wonder you bought me new clothes for this trip,” I muttered as we climbed the three st
eps toward the entrance. “I would’ve humiliated you.”

  His head turned sharply at that, and he opened his mouth to respond, but the double doors swung open, and we stepped through the looking glass.

  The entranceway, just the foyer, was bigger than my house. My whole house. Including the front and back yards. I gazed stupidly at the grand staircases on either side that led to the second floor. I marveled at the marble floor with its intricate designs and the large, maroon H that we stood on. I gawked at the fountain—the fountain in the center of the room with cement koi fish standing on their tails sharing a stream of water. Upon closer inspection, there were real koi swimming happily inside the thing.

  When I saw a few of the others who had arrived at the same time we did walk by with hardly a glance, I shut my mouth and pretended that I saw this kind of shit all the time. We followed others and the sounds of music and voices down a wide hall, past paintings and sculptures—and yes, a suit of armor. That part I found cliché, but who was I kidding? It was still pretty damn cool.

  I was so absorbed in the opulence of the house I almost forgot to feel self-conscious about my gait. Almost. I remembered quickly when we entered a ballroom. There was a live band in one corner and a massive dance floor at the center. My heart sunk. I wouldn’t be able to dance without making a fool of myself and Marco.

  There were so many people there, on the dance floor, sitting at tables, standing around, and wandering in and out of the two adjoining rooms. All the women were dressed elegantly in beautiful dresses, and all of them, I realized bitterly, wore heels, leaving me to feel like a little girl only playing at dress-up in my boring flats. Some of them were already watching me, but quickly glanced away when I met their eyes. Others eyed me curiously, some with polite smiles, and some not. One woman, a beauty in a blue transparent gown, stared at us scornfully, her mouth turned down in an ugly frown.

  When her eyes met mine and she proceeded to stare me up and down like I was something she had dragged in on the bottom of her shoe, I averted my eyes. I wasn’t afraid of her or anything, but I didn’t think I’d make a good first impression by giving her the finger.

  “This is more than just a dinner party at a friend’s house,” I murmured.

  Marco shrugged nonchalantly. “It is my friend’s house, and it is a dinner party.”

  I repeated myself stiffly, my jaw tight with aggravation over his dismissive response. “This is more than dinner at a friend’s house. There has to be two hundred people just in this room alone.”

  “Again, you would not have come if—”

  A male voice cut in before he could finish that sentence, lucky for him. “Marco, my man!”

  An older man with brown and gray hair slapped Marco on the shoulder and shook his hand. I recognized the handsome guy from his picture on the internet. It was Brodie Herrington, in the flesh. I tried not to stare at him like I had the koi fountain in the foyer.

  “Brodie, this is my girlfriend, Lydia Whitman. Lydia, this is one of our hosts, Brodie Herrington.”

  The man’s eyes widened a little at the “girlfriend” part, but he was kind and gently shook my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Lydia. Welcome to my home.”

  “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

  He leaned in conspiringly and whispered loudly, “It’s a pain in the ass to keep clean.”

  That eased my anxiety, just a tiny bit, as I laughed with him, but only a tiny bit, because I doubted he ever lifted a finger to clean anything. He and his wife probably had people like me scrubbing his toilets and dusting off his suit of armor and wiping their asses.

  Brodie stopped a passing server and offered me a glass of champagne, which I gratefully accepted. I met the beautiful Aiko a moment later. She was clearly much younger than Brodie, possibly closer to my age, but who was I to judge? Marco was closer to my mom’s age than mine.

  “Girlfriend?” Aiko had a beautiful voice and Japanese accent. She didn’t bother to hide her surprise as she studied me. “Have you ever had a girlfriend before, Marco?”

  “Very funny, Aiko.”

  Her brow creased just a bit as she stroked her long black hair. “I don’t think he’s ever had a girlfriend. How did you catch him?”

  “I’m guessing with a rat trap,” a silky voice said.

  A woman detached herself from a nearby group and made her way purposely toward us. I felt my mouth drop as she sashayed over, generous hips below a tiny waist swinging alluringly. Her white gown, with its deep V-cut front and a slit that ran up a long, toned leg to her upper muscular thigh, was a startling but stunning contrast to her flawless dark-brown skin. Dark, wavy hair was held off her face with little silver combs that most likely had real diamonds in them. It was full, big, and soft looking. I had the wild desire to get my hands all up in there, and I imagined that’s what most men probably wanted, too. She had large, almond-shaped brown eyes, a perfectly straight nose, and a plump mouth. She was, without a question, not only the most beautiful woman in the entire room, but the most beautiful, exotic, and stunning woman I’d ever seen in my life.

  The goddess reached for Marco’s bowtie and began to straighten it as she chastised him. “You’re late.”

  Aiko excused herself when she caught sight of more arrivals, and Brodie followed after his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist as he caught up to her.

  Marco grinned lazily at the Aphrodite-like woman in front of him. “I am not late. I am right on time.”

  Her perfectly plucked brow rose as her hands continued to his jacket, smoothing and picking off either imaginary pieces of lint or something I couldn’t see. “You were supposed to be here an hour ago to save me from the Nelson brothers.”

  Marco tilted his head to peer around her, his lips twitching with suppressed amusement. I followed his gaze to two men, twins judging by their identical faces. They were chatting with others, but both had stolen glances at the woman’s back.

  “They are harmless,” Marco said.

  “I think they want a ménage et Nelson.”

  “That does not make grammatical sense in French.”

  He released my hand and slipped an arm around my waist. That action caught the woman’s attention, and she stared at me, slightly startled, as if she had forgotten about me and my presence that quickly. Of course, I knew that was bullshit. It was one of those games women played.

  “Celeste, this is my girlfriend, Lydia. Lydia, this is my sometimes partner in crime, Celeste.”

  “He’s being discreet,” Celeste purred, extending her hand. “We are always partners in crime.”

  Oh my god, I wanted to slap her damn beautiful, sexy face, but instead, I silently accepted her hand for a firm shake.

  “Celeste is a real estate developer as well,” Marco explained. “We have worked together on many projects.”

  Appearing nonchalant, she put a hand on her hip and gave him a glare. “I want to merge, but Marco has been reticent.”

  Judging by her body language, she really wanted to merge. I slid my gaze to Marco, wondering if he had any desire to…merge with her. His own body language and his voice were much lighter talking to her than with anyone else so far. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

  “We are not going to have that conversation tonight.” He shook a finger at her like a naughty child, but his eyes were bright with mirth.

  “Fine. We will have that conversation once again during our bi-weekly dinner date.” She gasped, as if she just had the greatest idea. “I have tickets to Cabaret. Dinner and a show?”

  I really wanted to show this chick my pimp hand. What did she mean by dinner date? Marco was having bi-weekly dinner dates with this woman and I’d never heard of her before tonight?

  She gave his sleeve a tug. “Come on. You’re sitting next to me. I’ve secured a table in the other room.”

  She walked ahead of us without looking back.

  “Wow,” I mouthed as we moved to follow.

  “What?” Marco glanced at me curiously.


  “She wants you, like, really wants you. Like, she wants to take you into the bathroom and ‘merge’ with you hard and fast.”

  His eyes widened and then his lips closed to cut off the laughter that started to come out of his mouth. “We are just friends and work together.”

  What he said was that they were just friends. What he didn’t say was that I was wrong. He didn’t say I was right either, but he didn’t say I was wrong.

  “She is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met,” I confided in a whisper. “My lesbian senses are tingling even though I kind of hate her already.”

  His thumb stroked the bare skin of my back as his voice dropped. “You have lesbian senses? Should I be worried?”

  “I told you, there were these two times in college, but I digress. She’s fucking beautiful. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed. I don’t have a dick, but if I did, it would be hard.”

  He halted and pulled me against his body as his eyes heated. He did have a dick, and I felt it growing harder with every passing breath. “I have forgotten, Tesoro, what a dirty, lovely mouth you have.”

  My brow arched. “Is that for me?”

  “You are the only fucking beautiful woman in this room as far as I am concerned, and the only one who can do this to me. Maybe you would like to go into the bathroom and merge?”

  “Hmm.” I brushed my hand across the front of his pants. “Speaking of merging, the woman in the blue transparent thing has been looking at me like she would like to drown me in her drink. Did you, by chance, um…merge with her in the past couple years?”

  Marco did not take his eyes off me. “I don’t know. I am not going to look, because I don’t care. There is only you now. Anyone else doesn’t matter.”

  The light kiss to my forehead was quick and chaste, but still managed to warm me from the top of my head down to the tips of my toes. My warm and fuzzy feeling faded quickly, though, when I realized many eyes were on us as we continued to the room Celeste had gone into. Some of them seemed to not be able to help it as they glanced at my legs.