by Mara Lynne
“That man is a sucker for Raphael,” Hunter hisses as he calls for the waiter with a flick of his finger.
After making such an intriguing remark about this certain Mr. Lark, a middle-aged man sitting just three tables away from us, I come to the conclusion that Stone has some issues with this man.
“I wonder where Rafael would sit in his building,” he adds as he shakes his head in disapproval.
“What is he?” I ask, finally breaking the rule of keeping silent the entire night. I got a feeling that this suspicious-looking Mr. Lark might be some illegal art collector. My imagination has shot way higher than reality again, I guess.
“Nephrologist slash surgeon. He runs a foundation for kidney donations. He’s got immensely rich after two years of running his highly dubious charity,” he answers, his fiery dark eyes not leaving the smiling Mr. Lark who is apparently feeding his ego with people’s applauses.
His answer was music to my ears. This Mr. Lark is the person who can really help me. He might be the answer to Dad’s surgery situation. The thrill and excitement overwhelm me as my gaze follows Lark’s every movement. From then on, I hear nothing but my conscience pushing me to make a move. It’s my only chance. I will not let this slip through my fingers again.
Chapter 14: Limitless
Waiting for the right time to escape Stone’s clutch, I keep my eyes on Lark who is currently talking to Mrs. Lowe and her group of bubbly and loquacious friends. I don’t know how to make him help me, but I will try my best to talk to him. Payment? I’ll work harder to earn more. I’ll even say yes to whatever Stone says just to close a deal for higher pay. I’ll do anything for a kidney at this point.
“Angel, come with me,” Stone whispers right on top of my ear with a reserved smile on his face to catch the media’s attention as his hand gently touches my elbow then slides to the small of my back.
“Where?”
I see Stone eyeing a gray-haired man in a fine gray suit standing tall and strong for his age. I squint my eyes to get a clearer view of him when I realize that I’ve always seen his face on papers and on the television.
It’s the mayor! It’s Damien’s father!
There’s a woman standing beside him with her long, brunette hair all curled, her neck adorned with the largest ruby in the venue. My eyes grow large as I recognize the woman as his wife, the mayor’s first lady and Damien’s mother — the woman who I saw in the bank the other day. She’s her! I’m a hundred percent sure about this. Now I know why she looks awfully familiar.
With anxiety building up, I step back.
“What’s wrong?” Stone’s eyebrow arches.
“Do I really have to come with you?” I search the venue for the shadow of a man I have to avoid tonight. Damien must not see me looking like this, definitely not while doing something like this. What will he think of me? What will he say about this? A limitless torture awaits me, definitely. Everything will become worse. I can’t imagine a life with Damien not giving me a break. It will be worse than hell. I mean, I’ve always been adamant about not making out with him. I’m too scared and innocent for such a thing, but look what happens to me now? I am selling my entire self, my identity, even my body if the situation calls. I am a terrible person. This is how low I can get for money. This is how low I can be to make ends meet. There’s no other option really.
Damien and his one-million-dollar offer? I wasted it. I can’t go back and ask him for another chance. Here’s Hunter Stone who’s willing to pay me the right amount if I please him. He’s not even asking for sex. He just wants a decent escort to boost his popularity, and voila! I become a few thousands richer in just one night.
Damien must not see me tonight. That’s it! He must not!
“You have to be always with me, Angel,” he answers.
“Okay.” I stiffly nod. “But why do you have to meet the Mayor?”
“You’ve said the answer. Etheridge is the mayor. Everyone wants to be with him in a photograph.” He shrugs his broad shoulders to loosen his coat a bit and fixes his tie.
Publicity. How greedy can Stone be for publicity?
Then, he gently pulls me toward the Etheridges. I feel my knees literally shake. In my head, Damien’s face keeps popping out like a clown in a box, mocking me. I can only cross my fingers that he doesn’t show up or else a disaster is likely to happen.
“Sir,” Stone speaks in a solid tone as though commanding for attention. The mayor turns to face us as soon as he hears Stone clearing his throat and his smiling face brightens up more.
“Hunter!” he exclaims jubilantly with his arms open wide like he’s urging Stone for an embrace which Stone gives for, I guess, civility. “Good to see you looking as good as ever!” The mayor studies the now apprehensive Hunter Stone. I’ve noticed that he’s become taut like a board, so opposite to the naturally charming and smiling personality in front of the cameras.
“Mary.” Hunter curtsied to the beautiful woman in front of us, Damien’s mother. Damien got those gorgeous eyes from her, I see. When I look at them, I see Damien.
“It’s surprising you haven’t raised your card for a bid tonight,” she says flamboyantly.
“Nothing caught my attention.”
“And I see why.” She smiles while giving me a passing look as though telling me I am the distraction she is referring to.
“Haven’t talked to you for so long,” the mayor says while shifting his curious glare from Hunter to me, “and I think the reason for that is this beautiful lady in front of us.” The mayor’s warm smile brushes away the intimidation that has been lingering around me.
“She is very pretty, Hunter!” Mrs. Etheridge remarks confidently.
I blush as the compliment sinks in. Praises like this come to me like a leap year. It’s not always that I hear people say I am pretty, and I’m feeling extremely warm and giddy inside.
“You have a very good eye for women,” teases the mayor.
Stone smirks and answers proudly, “I know,” He entwines his fingers with mine.
“Now that I’m seeing this with my own eyes, I’d like to believe the rumors.” Mrs. Etheridge bobs her head. “I can’t wait for the big day to come, Hunter. Rest assured, we’ll all be there. Everybody’s going to be watching it.”
I can’t believe it has gone this far. If they only know that this thing between Hunter Stone and me is just one-time thing, I think I wouldn’t freeze like a criminal in front of them. I can’t help but feel guilty for lying to the mayor and his wonderful wife. They’re both nice and friendly, Damien’s complete opposite.
What will Stone tell them, these people, the press, and the public after tonight? Can he easily say that he’s broken up with Angel Grant after tonight? I bet it will be like a walk in the park for him. He seems to be used to lying to everyone. It won’t be difficult for him to handle this situation, I guess.
What I am wondering is how he’s talking to the mayor and his wife so informally. I am honestly expecting a more business-like conversation — investments, money, aid for the next election, those kinds of things. Why are they talking about too personal matters, marriage and all that? Could Hunter Stone be this close to the Etheridge family? Should I ask him later tonight? If so, does it mean he knows Damien too? I keep my eyes roaming the vicinity to search for the slightest sign of him. If by any chance he’s here, I can easily find an escape route before he even sees me. Maybe I should tell Hunter I’m starting to get tired, and I want to go back to my room. But am I allowed to leave his side? Isn’t it too demanding for an employee to make such favor? My pay is definitely at stake if I displease him, so I better shut my mouth, I guess, and pretend that I don’t give a damn about seeing Damien tonight. Maybe letting this worry suck for a while is way better than ending the night without being paid.
“Hunter.” Mrs. Etheridge’s voice tows me out from my clouded thoughts as I feel her long fingers slip through my arm, pulling me away from Hunter’s clutch. “Will you mind if I take your date
for a little heart-to-heart talk?”
Hunter lets go of me. “No problem, Mary.” He faces me then and does something that entirely stuns me. I am not sure if it’s going to raise my worth, but I will definitely do all I can to wring more payment for a kiss on the forehead. I hear clicks from cameras around us. The kiss is an instant feast to these people.
“Relax, Hunter,” Mrs. Etheridge says in a teasing manner. “Angel is safe in my hands.”
Mrs. Etheridge leads me away from the rampaging journalists to a private room just across the corner. I get the reason I’m being dragged away from Hunter. Perhaps he and the mayor need time alone by themselves to discuss more important matters a hired girlfriend has no business to know.
“Sorry for pulling you away from Hunter, but this night seems too short for a good talk with James,” says Mrs. Etheridge. She hauls her fur shawl over her shoulders, turns away from me to head to the round table, and pours herself a glass of cold wine from an ice bucket. “Those two men badly need to sort some stuff out,” she adds as she squints her eyes through the little window on the door, watching what those two men are probably doing now. After a while, she walks away from the door and back to the couch, crosses her legs upon sitting down, and directs me to sit on the couch in front of her. I find myself being scrutinized by those pair of eyes that remind me of Damien’s.
Is she trying to find out if I can stand the heat of being watched? Does she know that she’s seriously killing me with those glares? Has she found out that I’m a fake?
“You’re very lovely, Miss Grant,” she says, her voice so sensual and filled with class.
Mary Etheridge has this something in her way of talking that reminds me of his son. Other than their eyes, I think it’s the way she talks to me that I find so alike Damien. It’s like she’s after a kill, like a tigress ready to jump on me to scratch off the mask I am wearing.
“So unusual for Hunter to have brought you here tonight.” She sets aside her glass of wine on the table, properly positioning her back on the couch, her glare still fixed on me like a cat riveted over a dish of fish bone. “I never thought he’d do such a thing.”
I gulp at the thought of Mary Etheridge finding out the truth. What have I done for her to find this out so easily? I made sure I followed Paul’s instructions, and I knew I did pretty well in acting. Blood instantly rushes to my face, and I feel myself burning with shame.
“He’d usually bring his hired play dolls in events like this. Never thought he’d finally seal his fate tonight.”
I got lost in translation somewhere in there.
She continues, “Hasn’t he given you a ring, my dear?”
“I’m s-sorry, but I’m not…” I stutter, trying to escape this trap.
“No need to play innocent, sweetie. With you here, Hunter’s telling the world that he’s ready for marriage.” She bends forward, her hands together. “How did I know that you’re the one?” She raises her eyebrow. “Hunter’s eyes never lie. He looks at you differently. He’s never like this with his hired play dolls. That’s how I know he’s serious this time. Now tell me, how long has he been keeping you away from all of us?”
Mary Etheridge got it all wrong. I can finally breathe now. For a moment there, I thought I lost my paycheck.
“Four months,” I answer, recalling what Hunter Stone said to the reporters a while ago.
“You met in New York, right? Where in New York? And when?”
“Manhattan. In a friend’s party.”
“A common friend, I must say. Robbie?”
“Robbie who?”
She winces after she realizes that Robbie is a stranger to me. What makes her think about this Robbie?
“I don’t know who Robbie is.” I manage to sound casual and unfaltered.
“Robbie is Hunter’s best friend. I thought he would be the one introducing Hunter to his future wife.” Her face tries to hide a trace of tease. I don’t know what to make out of it. Maybe she’s just trying to annoy me. She seemed to be nice earlier, but now she’s acting a little differently.
What is it for her if Hunter marries? Why is it a big deal to her? Then a thought crosses my mind. I couldn’t argue more. Anyone who thinks that I, a stranger to their world, would end up marrying the wealthy Hunter Stone is definitely mad. Nobody knows who Angel Grant really is. Everything about her is a bubble intended for one night. I honestly expect her to disappear the same way she came to life. It’s a huge blow to Hunter’s image to marry a complete stranger — at least to the people surrounding him.
Perhaps Mary Etheridge is expecting a woman more known than Angel Grant.
“No, I don’t know who Robbie is,” I reply. “It’s a different friend. Someone not in this circle.”
“Oh, an average person!” Her smile fades and turns into disgust.
I nod.
“I see.”
What’s so wrong with meeting ordinary people? As a mayor’s wife, she must be an unbiased figure. She mustn’t choose her friends. But with what I see now, I conclude that she isn’t what I thought she is. She is wearing a mask, too, so unlike Damien who easily goes along with any kind of people. Maybe this is the one thing that differentiates them.
“Mrs. Etheridge.” I stand up. “I suddenly don’t feel well.” I place my hand on my forehead. Of course, I’m acting. The truth is, I don’t want to be near this woman. I know I’ll just hate on her the more I listen to her. I want to spare myself from forming an unhealthy opinion of this woman. I still respect her for all the charities she’s done, and that tiny respect I want to remain in me.
“Pray, are you pregnant?”
Horror strikes me.
“No!” I look as defensive as I could get. “Goodness, no…”
A sigh of relief escapes her mouth.
“Well, you must tell Hunter to drive you home. You’ve been looking pale the entire time with me.”
Being freed from Mary Etheridge’s grasp gives me a breather. I feel my lungs emancipate a cloud of gas that has been clamoring for release all this while. The pounding in my heart for fear of being found out slows down as I walk toward the very busy Mr. Lark. He’s talking to some men in gray suits. Perhaps, he’s making deals for his Raphael paintings or promoting his organization. Whatever he’s doing right now, I do not really care. It is him I need.
Wham!
The sound of breaking glasses fills the room, and all eyes turn to me. A dreadful silence swathes my entire skin with coldness. I just broke a tray of crystal wares that was carried by a waiter who bumped me for some unknown reason. I fear that these crystal wares were the last item to be auctioned tonight and are worth a staggering price. Who knows?
The poor waiter goes down on his knees and starts picking up the pieces. I sense him shaking and hear him whispering some words of forgiveness.
Was it my fault?
I don’t know. I wasn’t paying much attention to where I was walking. I was completely engrossed by the thought of meeting my father’s savior, Mr. Lark.
“I’m sorry, miss,” the poor waiter cries.
“I’m sorry too, sir,” I cluelessly say.
Perhaps it’s my fault. It’s partly my fault too I’m sure.
Now, what am I going to do? I can’t just let this poor man pay for everything, but I’d be a complete hypocrite to say I’d pay for it. Angel Grant can’t pay for anything. She’s a fake. And how can Angel Mohr pay for it when she has her own financial issues to worry about?
“Jon!” A bald man with a funny, pointed mustache storms into the room. He smiles at me briefly, acknowledging who I am and perhaps implicitly telling me I am not at fault.
“What have you done, you ass?” he scolds the already petrified waiter.
“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll pay for this. I promise.”
“Stupid ass!” He pulls the poor waiter up by the arm and drags him away from me after asking me if I am hurt.
“Step aside! Step aside!” I hear Paul’s voice, and I feel a strong gras
p on my arm. I turn to my side and see Hunter Stone’s eyes overflowing with concern. “Are you okay?” he asks almost in a whisper. His chilly and guttural voice sends warmth all over me. His strong hold on my arm makes me feel like a flimsy firewood so easily broken if he likes to.
“Are you hurt?” he adds as he pulls me close to him. His arm encircles my waist like he is protecting me from anyone who’d want to hurt me, and yet I am clearly unhurt. Surprised? A little. Worried? Definitely. But hurt? No. I worry for the poor waiter’s job, and I worry for myself as well. I understand why he’s acting like this. He acts for the cameras.
“Come,” he said as he breathes on top of me. It’s the first time we’ve been this close. The first time I get to see those fierce, vicious dark eyes up close. The chilliness is gone. All I see is the warmth, the worry that is intended to fool people. He pulls me through the swarm of curious journalists to the exit of the ballroom where Paul and his hired men in black suits were waiting.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin this night,” I say in one breath before we cross the elevator’s opening. His bodyguards are doing a great job of keeping the mass of aggressive journalists and guests from flocking around us.
He doesn’t say a word. As soon as the elevator’s door closes, his grip loosens. His reflection on the metal wall shows the expression I thought belongs to a tame beast— at least for the meanwhile. Dark. Vicious. Just right for what I thought he would be like. Very well played. He almost got me fooled.
Chapter 15: Breathing Underwater
The sound of flipping pages narks my mind that stayed all night thinking and worrying about the incident that could have exacerbated an already difficult situation. I lower my head on the table, wishing I could just bang my head against it. Ah, if only people inside the library won’t mind seeing a complete lunatic. I could only think of my folly. Because of my aggressiveness and desperation, a poor waiter was sacked. Paul didn’t have to tell me. From the looks of it, everyone deemed I was innocent. But I couldn’t confess. It could end me up in jail. I feel like a total loser for acting selfishly.
