by Lisse Smith
“It’s all an image, Patrick,” I reminded him seriously. “I need you to understand that what you and everyone else will see tonight is only possible because, for me, it isn’t real. As long as you stand beside me and keep people from thinking that I’m in any way available, then I’ll be able to keep playing the person you need for me to be.”
“I think, sadly, that I actually understand that mumble,” he said, as he held the door open for me. “You’re rubbing off on me, Lilly, and I should most probably be disturbed by that.”
“As long as we’re all clear on what’s really going on, I don’t mind what image other people see.” Especially when I didn’t know them, and it was unlikely I’d ever meet them again.
“I’ll keep the masses from bothering you, and you’ll fill the adoring partner role that I need for the night.”
“Something like that, but there probably won’t be all that much adoration.” I smiled to lighten the mood.
“You’ll need this.” He shoved a box into my hands. “It’s nothing,” he told me quickly. “It’s not a birthday present or a Christmas present; it’s a ‘we’re going to a really ritzy party and you’ll need to look the part’ gift, so here’s something to help with that.”
I held my breath as I took in the splendor of the diamond earrings. They were long filigree and would look stunning with the dress.
“If it makes you happy, you can give them back to me at the end of the night, and I’ll give them to my sister.” He shrugged. “Although I really don’t think she would appreciate them as much.”
I laughed aloud. “Oh, no,” I told him. “You can’t give a girl diamonds and then ask for them back.” I liked how he had phrased it. Any reference to a gift given for an event would have instantly had me return it, but this way I was free to accept them willingly. And besides, they were beautiful.
“You’ll keep them?” I think I shocked him.
“Absolutely. They’re beautiful,” I assured him as I slipped them onto my ears.
“They suit you.” And that was all he said about how I looked. He really was beginning to understand me, as much as was possible anyway.
There was quite an extensive line of traffic snaking its way toward the entrance of the hotel that was hosting the Monterey function. It was one of London’s finest, and I was sure it was costing them a fortune. It was funny to find myself one of the people along for the free ride—not that I’d be indulging in the alcohol, but there would be food, which made me just as happy.
Patrick helped me out of the car when we reached the steps, and even though I knew it was coming, it was still difficult to not pull away when he placed my hand upon his arm.
“Sorry.” I shrugged, then with more determination, I steadied my hand and kept it there.
“Don’t make more out of this than exactly what I’m saying,” he warned. “But I’m proud to stand beside you tonight, Lilly. Not only do you look amazing, but you’re one of the only women I know with the brains and the balls to stand next to the men in this room and converse as their equal.”
Without waiting for my answer, he swept us up the stairs and into the world of high-flying international business. The who’s who of world economics roamed within the four walls of the hotel that night. Lawrence Monterey drew a crowd, and it was an impressive one.
Patrick, for C&N, was a big player, but compared to the dynamic men who sauntered around the room, he was a contractor on their payroll. We were little fish in a huge ocean, and these men…they were sharks that could eat us alive.
In this room, class distinction ruled. There was a very definite pecking order of things, and those with the most power ruled. It was like a private gentlemen’s club. There was a main room, loaded with people, tables, and entertainment; but off to either side of that were private gatherings. Sheltered lounge areas where God-only-knows what negotiations were happening. These were invitation-only gatherings, and if you were unsure about your required attendance, the line of security standing sentry between the main room and the private lounge areas were indication enough that you weren’t to approach unless you were invited.
I laughed aloud as Patrick steered us down the left side of the room toward one of the many bars.
“What?” he asked.
I grinned wickedly at him. “Don’t you find this ostentatious?” I asked in amusement. “It’s so…I don’t know, Godfatherish!”
“That isn’t a word, Lilly.” But it did manage to lighten his mood somewhat. He had been tense since we neared the hotel, and I hated to see him that stressed.
“’Course it is. Besides, who’s to say otherwise?”
He shook his head. “You’re crazy, you know that?” he asked.
“You have no idea.” Seriously! “But really, don’t you think this is just that much overdone?”
Patrick glanced around, almost like he was seeing the room for the first time. “It is very…serious,” he agreed.
“Stuck up your ass, serious!” I assured him. “Let’s get a drink before I give into the temptation to see how good those security guys are at keeping the unruly on the right side of the line.”
This time Patrick laughed. “Lilly, you are one original woman.”
“Don’t ever forget it.”
We finally reached the bar, which, thanks to the continually rotating waiters with trays of drinks, was relatively free of guests. It was only for specific orders, like my mineral water, that one would have to venture to the bar. Patrick got our drinks, and we settled to ambling casually around the room.
“So, what’s the actual plan for the evening?” I asked.
“Stay out of trouble, and leave as early as we can manage,” Patrick shrugged.
“Good plan!”
“It’s the best I can come up with,” he said.
“It’s a boring plan,” I retorted.
“It’s a safe plan,” he insisted.
“Safe, shmafe!”
“What?”
“Never mind,” I replied. “Seriously, though, if all we’re going to do is walk around this room for the next few hours, you might have to resuscitate me fairly soon, ’cause I’m going to die of boredom.”
“You’re here to look pretty, not to have an opinion,” he joked, with a wicked grin.
“I didn’t realize being a ditzy blond was part of the job description. Damn, I’d have asked for more money if I’d known.”
“I might let you have a dance later,” he offered. “Would that keep you happy?”
I shrugged. “I’m not very good at dancing.”
“What are you good at?” He was enjoying the banter; it wasn’t something I usually did with him, but for some reason tonight, possibly because I’d convinced myself that it wasn’t real, I let some of my old self out.
“I’m good at a whole lot of things,” I teased.
“I can only imagine.” He whistled gently.
We passed the next hour in casual conversation, the occasional flirty comment thrown in just to confuse him; but not surprisingly, our presence didn’t go unnoticed. As the evening wore on, more and more people stopped to talk to Patrick. I tried to stay out of the conversations, arm candy didn’t have an opinion, and that’s what I was tonight.
“I should have bought you to functions months ago,” he commented after we left a conversation with an aging member of parliament. “I’m beginning to realize that the attention we’re attracting has a lot more to do with how you look than who we actually are.”
I shrugged. I was used to attracting attention. I had tried to warn him. I refrained from my “I told you so” speech.
“It’s pathetically humbling, attending Monterey’s events,” he admitted, with a sad shake of his head. “And with you along, it’s even more pathetic.”
“Ahhh, don’t cry baby,” I soothed sarcastically. “I still love you.” Oh, how I wished, moments later, that I could have taken those words back—and sadly, it wasn’t Patrick who I wished had never heard them.
“Do you need a tissue, Sloane?” a voice asked from behind us.
Patrick stiffened instantly, and almost reluctantly, he turned around to face the newcomer. “Monterey,” he acknowledged, and I kind of wanted to disappear.
With a resigned grimace, I turned to meet the master of this arena. Lawrence Monterey was about the same age as Patrick, which surprised me greatly, as I’d expected a much older man. But luckily for both Patrick and Lawrence Monterey, they carried themselves with a health and vitality that ensured they aged well—and which made it difficult for most people to judge their age accurately. Monterey was tall, with a firm, athletic body and jet black hair that was cut in a short, clean style.
His suit and stance screamed prestige and power, and even in a room full of powerful men, he stood out. It was easy to find one’s place with this man—anywhere beneath him was just fine.
It was all so stupid and surreal that I couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. Seriously, what were the chances of him hearing that sentence out of everything I said all night? As much as I tried to hide it, the mirth finally bubbled over in a short burst of sound. I covered my mouth to stop the rest from following, but it was too late.
Both Patrick and Lawrence Monterey turned to start incredulously at me, which only made it worse.
“Sorry.” I stammered, and I noticed that there were two men stationed behind Monterey on either side and one of them in particular was finding it difficult to hide his amusement. “Sorry,” I repeated. “But you have to admit that was funny.” I knew I shouldn’t have been laughing, especially not at this man, but funny is funny, and they both looked so ridiculous that I couldn’t help it.
“You find something amusing?” Monterey asked in a deep quiet voice.
“Yep,” I admitted happily. He couldn’t think much worse of me, considering what he had just overheard. “You have impeccable timing Mr. Monterey.” I told him with a grin.
Patrick was looking at me like I’d grown a second head.
“I have been told that before.” Monterey admitted almost reluctantly. “Would you care to join me?” he indicated for us to follow him. Far be it for me to refuse…I guessed I’d get to find out how good those security guys were now.
Monterey led us over to one of the lounge areas, its occupants a diverse range of men and a few women. None of them made any attempt to converse with or acknowledge us as we walked past them.
“Good to see you again, Patrick,” Lawrence said as he indicated for us to sit on the chairs around him. “Care to introduce me to your amusing friend?”
Patrick gave me a look that clearly said “behave” before he responded, “Monterey, allow me to introduce you to Lillianna Owen. Lilly, Lawrence Monterey.”
“Lillianna.” He drawled my name in such a way as it came out sounding more like it had an “r” at the end instead of its normal crisp pronunciation.
I resisted the impulse to call him Laurie, and instead restrained my cheeky smile and replied, “Pleased to meet you.” Gosh, I hoped they forgot about me and just talked among themselves. I found myself strangely amused with the world tonight—an almost unknown reality for me, and I wasn’t too sure that I wouldn’t do or say something in this mood that might be very bad.
“Have you two known each other long?” he asked and it took me a moment to realize he was still talking to me.
“Long enough.” I wasn’t going anywhere near encouraging that line of conversation, so kept my response annoyingly vague.
“How’s Samuel?” Lawrence asked Patrick finally.
“Well, thank you. I’ll tell him you asked,” Patrick responded. I could tell he was nervous, although he hid it well.
“Sorry to hear about Xavier,” Lawrence added. “He was a good man.”
“Yes, he was.”
“That business in Belgium was well handled,” Lawrence pushed. “It’s interesting how things can change.”
Oh, even I knew that was a veiled threat. Seriously, I wondered if my drink had been spiked, because I had the most maddening tendency to find everything funny this evening, and Monterey’s threat against C and N shouldn’t have been funny. I had to turn my head away to hide the shadow of laughter that skimmed across my face.
They continued to swap barbed comments for the next few minutes. I wasn’t really sure why they bothered; it would have saved everyone a whole lot of effort if he had just come out and said that he was looking at buying the company. At least then they could have entertained something resembling a constructive conversation.
The two men who had been hovering behind Lawrence when he met us out in the main room were currently standing behind and off to either side of where Lawrence sat. These were obviously his personal security, and first impressions of them indicated that they were probably very good at their job. They looked the part, anyway. I ignored the conversation continuing around me and concentrated on them instead.
One was black; very tall, shaved head, and built like a freight train. The other was slightly shorter, just as cut, but with a much less severe appearance. He had light blond hair that he kept longer than normal, and he seriously looked like a surfer straight from California. He also looked like someone who laughed easily, while the first guard—I doubt he ever found much that was amusing.
Surfer boy winked cheekily at me, obviously having caught me checking them both out. I grinned in response and turned my attention back to Patrick, only to find both him and Lawrence staring at me.
My gaze flicked apprehensively between the two of them. They seemed to be waiting for me to say something, obviously something I’d missed, and there was no way to get around the fact that I hadn’t been paying attention. “What?” I asked innocently.
Patrick rolled his eyes and surprised me by saying. “Lilly, you’re killing me.” He groaned loud enough for Lawrence to hear, but rather than taking offense at my lack of attention or Patrick’s words, Lawrence burst out laughing, an action that surprised more than just me. All conversation around us stopped as the other people in the private area turned to stare in astonishment at the laughing form of Lawrence Monterey. Patrick shook his head in surrender.
“Mind if I borrow this one for a moment, Sloane?” Lawrence asked, as he rose to his feet. “I think I’d like to dance, and she’s an interesting person to talk to.”
“Good luck.” Patrick waved me away as Lawrence, not waiting to see if I was willing, pulled me up from the seat and very nearly dragged me out toward the main area of the party.
“Ah, I don’t dance.” I muttered to his back, but with my hand clasped firmly in his, it appeared I wasn’t going to be given an option.
“I do,” he responded without pausing.
I wondered why I wasn’t more worried, more cautious, but as a space cleared around us and he pulled my body into his arms, all I felt was excitement. This wasn’t real, this didn’t matter; and for tonight, I could be whoever I wanted to be.
He was a good dancer, certainly good enough that he could lead me suitably well.
We danced in silence, our bodies moving relatively easily to the jazz music that was playing through the room. Several other couples danced around us, and I was surprised at how easy it was to forget our audience.
The music ended, and a more classical number started, a slow, methodical piece that didn’t require much attention to movements. Lawrence slowed, and he drew my body more closely against his.
“Who are you?” Lawrence asked the question in his deep quiet voice.
“No one.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment.”
“You can believe whatever you want. Who am I to convince you otherwise?”
“That’s exactly what I want to know,” he replied. “You’re not scared of me at all, are you?”
“Should I be?” I asked.
“Most people are.”
“I’m not most people.”
“I’m beginning to realize that.”
I don’t think this was what
Patrick had in mind when he said to say out of Monterey’s notice.
“What do you think of the party?” he asked, when I didn’t respond to his comment.
“Truthfully?” I wondered how much I could push before he took offense and I caused harm to Patrick and the company.
“No one else would dare to tell me, so please, enlighten me.”
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You asked,” I reminded him, then told him my opinion. “I think it’s excessively ostentatious and bordering on a vulgar display of elitism. Were you deliberately setting out to create an archaic gentleman’s club atmosphere, or was that an accident?”
I had already deduced that this was a man who rarely showed emotion and even that little outburst of mine didn’t crack his carefully maintained facade. And here I was, thinking that I managed a pretty neutral existence. I could take lessons from him.
“Vulgar?” he asked quietly.
“Don’t you think it’s a bit rude to ask people to come to a party and then, when they get here, keep them penned into a little space in the middle, so that you and your friends can watch them from your safe little luxury booths off to the side?”
“I hadn’t actually looked at it from that point of view,” he admitted after a moment. “The intention was to create areas where people could conduct business with likeminded individuals who share common interests.”
“Yes, but if that was the intention, then tell me why the only people conducting business are the most powerful of your friends.”
“They’re not my friends,” Lawrence corrected. “And there are no restrictions on the use of those spaces.”
“Look around you, Lawrence.” I spoke more harshly than I probably meant to. “This isn’t so much a party as an opportunity for those in power to show themselves above the rest of us.”
I had to give him credit, he did actually glance around the room, and I did see his eyes narrow fractionally as, probably for the first time, he saw the room the way that I saw it.
“These are good, honest men,” I continued. “They deserve better than to have what you are thrusting on them in this manner. They have built their companies up—maybe not to the level that you have, but most of them are proud of what they have accomplished, and it’s wrong for you to treat them this way.”
