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ONE
Huxley
The glass elevator cab shut its doors behind me and whisked the melody of Bing Crosby away on its upward journey to retrieve more guests.
I adjusted the red mask that matched my jacket. Why am I wearing this? My sister insisted on a masquerade theme in a lavish Manhattan hotel. Me? I preferred to see the entire face of a person I would potentially do business with. Holiday galas were not my preferred setting for meetings, and the red jacket wasn’t my usual black power suit.
Nothing about this night worked for me.
As I gazed around the crowded atrium, I lost count of how many high-end Italian designers were represented. Gucci, Armani, Versace, and Prada flashed before me on my trek to the bar. At least the room reeked of my favorite scent…money.
All of these potential investors wanted a piece of the deal I had managed to acquire. Only the most worthy of the group would receive an invitation. A picturesque country estate embedded six miles from an affluent Connecticut town that had the earning potential to make plenty of people rich. I held the blueprints to bring this opportunity to fruition, and nothing would get in my way.
I had to hand it to my sister. When Ellie said she would fill this room with some of the richest people she knew, she wasn’t fooling around. Senators from all over the country, bankers, stockbrokers, socialites, Wall Street lawyers, and top-notch doctors, all dressed in their holiday best, waiting for the opportunity for me to invite them to hear my plans of my latest project.
Many of them already knew if my name was on the enterprise, the cash rolled in. I had almost secured all of the surrounding properties to make this idea a success. I needed one more family to sell me their run-down inn. Once I had that property, I could redevelop the land and make it a quaint, resort destination.
Ensconced in the hectic bar area, I spotted Ellie holding court by the elaborate grand staircase. Mesmerizing people and holding them hostage long enough for them to write enormous checks to her charitable organizations was her superpower. She considered it a true talent if she could reach her goal before the dinner salad was served. Tonight’s cause would help fund several shelters in New York City.
After twenty minutes of working my way through the joyful crowd, answering questions and quickly determining who might be worthy of an invitation to join my new venture, I needed a drink. I had been vague about my plans by design. The less people knew, the easier it was for me to do things my way. The more secretive I was, the bigger the buzz.
Just as I successfully maneuvered to the bar, a human hurricane swirled into my space, launching a glass of champagne directly onto my pristine, and obscenely expensive, Louboutins. I managed to catch the dark-haired menace by the wrist, saving her from a face-plant on the marble floor. Too bad my shoes were already a casualty.
“Oh my goodness!” Even behind her glittery, silver mask, I could see her chocolate-colored eyes widened. “I am so sorry.”
She drew me in, making the room’s laughter and excited chatter fade away. A flush of embarrassment colored her skin, drawing my eyes to her toned shoulders and the deep neckline of her strapless dress. The silky, forest green material beautifully contrasted with her olive complexion and flowing hair.
“These shoes are too high.” She glanced down at her feet as a slight giggle escaped her full, pink lips. “And this glass is so delicate, I’m afraid I’ll drop it.”
When she squirmed her wrist out of my hand, I had to fight the urge to grab it again because I wasn’t ready to release her.
“Let me.” I held out my hand for her flute. “I’ll carry it for you.”
“You don’t have to do—”
“Let’s go there.” I took the glass from her and pointed to a high-top table by the window. “It’s not as hectic.”
“Um, no, my friend is waiting for me.”
“Friend or date?” I asked.
“What?” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Oh, both?”
“You tell me.”
“There you are.” Ellie interrupted my misguided attempt to abandoned my duties and have a drink with the mysterious woman who didn’t strike me as if she belonged here. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“I can take that from here.” The stranger swept her champagne glass out of my hand, spilling a generous portion of it on my shoes. Again. “Sorry.”
Trying desperately to save the remaining two sips of alcohol, she zigzagged through the barricade of people. She moved surprisingly quick for someone wearing killer stilettos and a slit so high it was doing most of the heavy lifting. Where the hell did she come from?
“Who is that?” I asked my sister. “Is she someone’s date?”
“I didn’t get a good look at her, but there are too many people here for me to recognize everyone, especially with the masks.”
“Whose fault is that?” I cozied up to the bar. “How long am I expected to wear this?”
“Don’t be grumpy, Huxley.” She patted my hand. “We’re kicking off the holiday season tonight. We’re barely past Thanksgiving. You should find a way to enjoy yourself. No one likes a Grinch.”
