The Ball

ANNA

The next evening, I was tucked under a blanket on the couch with Anubis curled up at my side. The canine had arrived earlier in the week, and the two of us had become fast friends.

It had taken a little coaxing to overpower his training, but much to Gavin’s dismay, Anubis had picked a lovely corner of our sofa as his own.

When Gavin came down the stairs in a tux, I frowned up at him.

“Pretty fancy for a meeting, huh?” I asked innocently.

He faltered just slightly. “It’s a dinner thing. These guys are pretty pompous.”

~Sure, they are.~

I stood and walked over to him before running my hands along the lapels of his jacket. Anubis watched the exchange closely from his perch, perhaps sensing my deception.

“Well, hopefully it doesn’t take too long. I’ll be waiting to help you out of this later,” I told him seductively.

Normally, he wouldn’t be able to resist an invite like that. Tonight, he couldn’t meet my gaze.

~Good. Asshole.~

“I might be pretty late,” he said. “There’s a lot of…negotiations.”

I feigned a pout. “Too bad.”

When I moved to step away, he caught me with an arm around my waist.

“I’ll make it up to you, okay? In a few days, I’m all yours.”

I stared up at his grin and fought the urge to smack it off of him. Instead, I returned his smile with a forced one of my own.

“Sounds great.”

He leaned down and pecked my lips before releasing me.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, grabbing his keys off the entry table.

I decided to bait him just a little.

“I love you,” I called after him.

“I love you too.”

He froze in the door of the elevator, his back to me. Even I reeled back, eyes wide in shock.

Slowly, he turned. “Annalise—”

“That’s okay,” I cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything. It was an automatic response.”

He shook his head as he walked back toward me. “It wasn’t.”

My mouth went dry as he stopped, and I stared into his dark, smoldering gaze. “Gavin…”

He cupped my chin in his large hands and opened his mouth, as if to say something.

~Just tell me the truth,~ I mentally urged him. ~Better yet, just stay.~

As if reading my mind, he stepped back and sighed. “I’m so sorry. I have to go, but we will talk about this.”

My briefly high hopes came plummeting back to earth.

“Okay.” It was barely more than a whisper.

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stepped into the elevator.

“Annalise.”

I looked up at him.

“I meant it. I love you.”

I swallowed. “Okay, Gavin.”

My feet stayed rooted in place even as the screen indicated he’d arrived at the bottom floor. I closed my eyes and dug my nails into my palms.

~Be strong.~

“Did that prick just admit he ~loved~ you?”

I looked up to see Kris storming down the hallway from where she’d been hiding in the guest room.

I sighed. “Apparently so.”

“The fucking timing of that guy,” she swore. “I cannot wait to see his stupid fucking face when he starts begging you for forgiveness.”

“He didn’t mean it, Kris. He just feels guilty.” I shrugged. “Maybe he senses something is up.”

Her brow furrowed, and she tilted her head. “Honey…”

I shook my head. “Please don’t. I’ve made my choice. Besides, we have to hurry if I’m going to make it in time.”

She pursed her lips, as if deciding what to say before finally letting out a long breath. “Okay. The curling iron is hot, and I’ve got your dress ready to go.”

“Let’s do it.”

***

Somehow, Kris managed to turn me into the picture of elegance in under thirty minutes. Granted, I was pretty sure my scalp was now singed in several spots, but otherwise, I looked flawless.

I stared at the sad, beautiful woman in the rearview mirror with resigned detachment. The crimson silk gown was perfect. Modest enough to look sophisticated while still highlighting all the right curves.

Paired with the structured curls and pearl barrettes Kris had chosen, I felt like I fit right in with New York’s elite, who were sure to be in attendance.

~One more night to play the part~, I thought.

Kris glanced at me from the driver’s seat. “You look stunning, boo.”

I gave her a grateful smile. “Wish me luck?”

As she pulled to the curb, she leaned over the console to wrap me in a sweet hug, careful not to ruin my hair or makeup. “You won’t need it. But for the record, I do hope you kick Chelsea’s ass.”

I chuckled and then glanced out the dark, tinted window. The sidewalk was crowded with people holding cameras and microphones, hoping for the inside scoop.

“Now or never,” I murmured.

With a deep breath, I pushed the car door open. A man in a black suit held out a hand to help me out, even as reporters started to swarm.

“Anna!” “Anna Miller!” “Anna! Why didn’t you arrive with your fiancé?” “Anna, you look stunning!” “Anna, who is your designer?”

I forced myself to keep my head high as I pushed through them. Every part of me wanted to shrink back, but I refused to show weakness.

~Fake it till you make it~. Kris’s favorite line played on repeat in my head.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally made it to the hotel ballroom entrance where the event was being held.

As soon as I stepped through the doors, the entire atmosphere shifted. The reporters’ shouts and flashing lights fell silent. Instead, I was standing in a beautiful room with chandeliers, arched ceilings, and fancy velvet chairs.

An orchestra played softly off to the side. Men and women in fancy clothes milled about, laughing and clinking glasses.

The entire scene was extraordinary, and somehow my eyes still immediately found the dark, glinting gaze of my fiancé. If he was surprised, he hid it well.

I tilted my head and held his stare as I circled the perimeter of the room. When I passed a waiter carrying a tray of champagne glasses, I grabbed one and sipped slowly.

He started toward me in long strides, and I braced. Fortunately, a small woman jumped in his path.

She was wearing a headset and holding a clipboard, clearly someone in control. They exchanged words briefly before Gavin stood back and shook his head angrily.

I thought he might shout, but instead, he turned on his heel with definitive purpose before disappearing out of sight.

A sad smile pulled at my lips. For just a moment, I’d thought maybe he would choose me. That, maybe, he would explain this away as some sort of misunderstanding, and I would believe him—because deep down, I wanted to.

Instead, I strengthened my resolve, pulling my shoulders back and keeping my head held high.

An announcement was made, and the crowd began moving to the dozens of round tables. I followed suit, thankful when I realized there weren’t any place cards marking the seats.

“Anna Miller?”

I turned to find a middle-aged gentleman looking at me curiously.

“In the flesh,” I told him.

“I was wondering if we would see the woman who had stolen Mr. Powell’s heart this evening. It’s a pleasure.”

I smiled, taking a sip from my glass. “I assure you, the pleasure is mine.”