Lucas
Ilook around in confusion as Melvin drives us through one of the shittiest streets in Brooklyn.
There are a few kids on bikes staring at the car as we drive by, and I wonder if we’ll get out of here
with the side mirrors still attached.
“You’re sure this is where she lives?” I ask Melvin. He nods. “I am, sir. Although I didn’t pick her up
from her house before.”
“What do you mean?” “She was on the street waiting for me. I’m not sure which is her house.”
I look at the miserable white buildings on the block. Many of them are run-down, with chain-link
fences out front. A few look like they’re barely still standing, with broken-down cars in the driveways and
trash bags covering the sidewalks.
This is really where Amelia lives? Melvin slows as we turn the corner and whistles low in the back of
his throat. I’m not sure why at first, and then I look through the driver’s side window and my heart stutters
in my chest.
“Y ep. This was where she was before, too,” Melvin says, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the
rearview.
It’s like the whole world stops spinning as I catch sight of Amelia standing on the corner waiting for
us.
Where the hell did she get that dress? She looks like a supermodel; the black, figure-hugging fabric is
far more appropriate than the gaudy red thing I picked out in a
panic this afternoon.
Her hair glitters like she’s just walked out of a salon, and the diamond necklace and earrings I sent
over are sparkling around her neck.
I glance around in concern. I wouldn’t have sent those if I had known she would be waiting alone in a
neighborhood like this.
Melvin pulls over along the sidewalk as I get out, buttoning my jacket.
All through the day, I’ve had a persistent sense of anger and exhaustion at having to attend the gala.
These events are a necessary evil, affording me opportunities that I would never get outside of such a
setting. Still, I resent all the socializing I’m going to have to do.
But now, with this vision before me, I can’t wait to get there and show her off to everybody else.
She turns to me, as if in slow motion, that glorious hair falling loose in waves down her back. She is,
quite simply, the most stunning woman I have ever seen.
“Cab for Brooks?” I say, and that lovely smile spreads across her face as she walks over the road.
She’s wearing black, glittering heels that perfectly complement the sparkling diamonds around her neck.
“You look stunning,” I say, unable to hold in the compliment any longer, and a light flush stains her
cheeks as she clears her throat.
“You don’t clean up so bad yourself. Nice tux.” I tug at my sleeves. I have several well-tailored tuxes
for this type of thing, but I spent a lot longer getting ready tonight than I usually do. Subconsciously, I
must have been aware I needed to match my date.
“Ready to go?” I ask, holding out my arm. I tense as the kids cycle up beside us on the other side of
the street.
“Who’s that, Mia?” one of them shouts, and she snorts as the little shit flips me off.
“My guardian angel. Didn’t your mom call you inside like twenty minutes ago? It’s dark out.” She
says in a jovial tone as they all hoot with laughter and cycle away.
“Friends of yours?” I ask.
“They play around our h—they play around here a lot,” she mutters, and quickly gets into the car. I
glance around one more time at the neighborhood, feeling humbled by the luxuries I take for granted in
my own life.
I climb into the car, rolling my eyes at Melvin, who is doing a much better job of complementing my
date than I did.
I tell him to roll his tongue back in, and we set off. I’ve never looked forward to an event so much.
The designers have outdone themselves this year, and the venue is even more impressive than I had
pictured.
With the lights dimmed, the candles burning, and the gentle murmur of conversation flowing over the
tables, I feel a swell of pride at everything my company r epresents.
I had originally pushed back on the black-and-gold theme, but I’m glad I let my designer talk me into
it. The white of the tablecloths complements the black-and-white stage at the back of the room. Flowers
hang from the ceiling, adding pops of color everywhere I look.
There are tiny lights woven across the ceiling and over the stage, and the centerpiece of each table is a
leafless tree branch covered in tiny gold jewels.
Several eyes turn toward us as we enter, and I pull Amelia a little tighter against me as she noticeably
stiffens.
“You’ll do fine, just be yourself.” “Wow,” she whispers. “The place looks amazing.” “Thank you. I’m
rather pleased with this myself. Very Alice in Wonderland,” I say with a smile, but she doesn’t laugh,
looking around like a deer in the headlights.
Kendrick is the first to approach us, of course. The man never passes up an opportunity to exert his
prowess over others.
“Crawford, you made it!” he says, laughing at his own joke. His eyes move to Amelia, and pause for a
fraction too long, his eyebrows twitching. “Miss Brooks,” he says with a tight smile. “You look quite
lovely.”
His gaze moves to me, and I stare him down so viciously that he simply nods and walks back to his
date.
The gall of the guy, looking at her like she doesn’t belong here. There are already dozens of people in
the room, and everyone has dressed to impress. One woman is wearing an enormous gold hat that rivals
the size of the tables around us.
Looking down at Amelia, I’m struck again by how simple and perfect she looks. No other woman in
the room compares.
But this isn’t real. She’s only here because I’m paying her to be. I turn toward the door, noticing one
of our main investors, Thomas Maxwell, walking through the entrance with a young woman on his arm
who's about Amelia’s age. I grimace. Maxwell is pushing sixty, and there’s no way that’s his daughter.
“Why don’t you go grab a drink, Amelia?” I say quickly, not wanting her to have to put up with
Maxwell’s inevitable misogyny. “I just have to welcome Maxwell and a few others. I’ll be back,” I say.
I let go of her arm, st epping back, surprised by the intense desire that grips me to ke ep her by my side.
Her eyes widen, as if in panic, as I turn away from her, but I’m certain she’ll be able to handle herself
here.
“Just head to the bar and I’ll join you there shortly. You belong here, okay? You’re here with me,” I
say with an encouraging smile, and she manages a smile as I turn away.
I can’t be beside her all night, no matter how much I want to be. I have a job to do.
Still, as I walk away, I glance back at her. She looks lost, standing alone in the center of the room, and
I worry for a moment that I’ve abandoned her.
But when Maxwell grabs my hand and introduces me to his inappropriately young date, I forget
everything else but business.