An hour later,we stood inside Nordstrom’s designer collections section.
This was not what I’d expected.
I’d been wearing plain black pants and a white shirt when I left work, and we’d hardly had a minute to look for a cab before Rishi announced his plans to take me to Nordstrom to buy me a dress.
“Your Burberry coat is fantastic, but the clothes underneath it? Nuh-uh. Someday, I’ll get you up to speed on theclothing brands one can see at fancy parties in New York, Ava, because what you’re wearing is so not it,” he said, shooting my clothing a skeptical look. “But until then, please tell me if Gucci or Kate Spade is more your style.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” I said. “And I can’t afford either of them. This coat was a gift. The rest are my own. We’re both lowly employees, remember?” I said, gesturing to my simpler handbag.
He tut-tutted. “Ava, you will not be allowed into the party with that handbag. Besides, my parents are generous with their money as long as I keep one stable job in between my acting gigs. Come on. Off to the fitting rooms.”
An hour later, I was wearing a deep V-neck light-pink dress that looked very pretty. It reached up to my ankles, and the material was like silk. I could only just afford it, provided I used the money I’d been saving for Gabriela’s birthday gift. I couldn’t bear to see Rishi spend money on me, so I raced to the checkout counter before he could get there. When we walked out of the store, Rishi surprised me with a new Kate Spade handbag that I’d looked at multiple times back in the shop.
“No way,” I said, resisting while he slung it over my shoulder.
“Ava, this is hardly anything, considering the amount of money I’d have spent on hospital bills if you hadn’t shown up when you did. Now, hush while I adjust the strap.”
A few moments later, he stepped back and gave me a thumbs-up.
“You look beautiful,” he said as we got into a cab and headed to the party.
I spent the rest of the drive talking with Rishi Chopra, who, as it turned out, really was an actor and showed me clips of his movies. He had extremely wealthy parents, whowere doing their best to appreciate his acting talents by sending him hilarious videos from his childhood every time he got rejected from an audition. I demanded to see those videos, and over the course of that car ride, we bonded like twins who had finally been reunited after a decade.
“I knew you were a romantic,” he said, gesturing to the Kate Spade bag as the car turned down a winding lane to an out-of-the-way home.
I scoffed at that but stopped when we slowed down near a large-pillared grand entrance, which I could only humbly call a mansion. It was at the end of a narrow lane, the only house on the street, which had a line of cars up the road. Two men in black tuxedos were waiting at the entrance, checking the guests were on the list before letting them in. A bouncer stood behind them, thick arms at his sides as he observed people walking in.
One man looked in our direction, his hand reaching for the walkie-talkie, and both Rishi and I jumped before Rishi reminded himself of an important point.
“I have an invitation, damn it,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m not crashing this party, and neither are you. Why are you so jumpy?”
I touched the long, dangling earrings that Rishi had insisted I wear to complement my dress, feeling very unlike myself. I double-checked my hair in the camera on my phone before I followed him up the steps.
“I’m not used to this much money on me,” I admitted when we stopped to have his invitation checked.
“Well, get used to a lot more wealth now,” he said. “I’m tiny fish compared to our host, Ms. Sanders.”
Rishi was proven right the moment we walked in. The entrance had a domed archway and a large fountain at the very center with a cherub, over which water cascadeddown freely. When we walked past that and saw people in the house, I realized The Butchers, a band I loved, was actually playing here. My jaw dropped as I looked at the group of three men and a woman. Tickets to their show were so hard to get. And they were here, playing music off to the side?
“I don’t see my ex, so hopefully, he’s crying his eyes out at home. Come. Time for a drink,” Rishi said and walked me over to the end of the room, which had an honest-to-goodness bar with a counter that was built into the wall. Behind the counter, I could see a temperature-controlled wine refrigerator that showcased an extensive wine collection. “What will you have, Ava?”
“Anything that’ll make me forget I’m completely out of my element here,” I said, my gaze going around the room as I took in the crowd while Rishi grinned.
This was wealth all right. A tall woman was speaking to a man across from us, and she had on a beautiful white dress and diamonds sparkling on hershoes.
“That’s Ms. Sanders,” Rishi whispered next to me as he waved at her.
She acknowledged him with a smile while I turned my head to a staircase off on one side and saw another woman with long brown hair walk down the steps. She was so familiar that it hurt.
The same woman I’d seen Desmond in a meeting with recently.
She was wearing an embellished black halter-neck gown with stilettos and looked even more beautiful than I remembered.
In a second, Desmond came into view behind her, beyond handsome in his tux, and I caught my breath. Here they were again.
“Shoot, shoot,” I cursed, turning on my heel. “Desmond is at this party!”
Rishi turned to me, a surprised look on his face before he scanned the crowd. “You mean, Mr. Desmond McKinley, CEO of Luxe Hotels? Well, duh. I’m not surprised. This is the place rich folks show up.”
