Chapter Fifteen

Elle

“THIS INVITATION JUST arrived for you.” Fleur waltzed into my office the following day in a pink and yellow sundress that somehow flirted the line between work-appropriate and beachwear.

I glanced from my laptop to the flocked envelope she held, hating the way my mind took the interruption and ran swiftly from human resource issues to once again thinking about Mr. Everett.

I’d successfully pushed him away more times than I would admit. I did not need him in my brain anymore. I didn’t even know ~why~ he was in my brain.

We had some weird form of connection, but I wouldn’t buy into the bait and I definitely wouldn’t be seduced by a man I couldn’t stand.

“Who’s it from?” I held out my hand as she approached my desk and placed the heavy invite into my awaiting fingers.

“It has a return address. Chloe Mathers, I believe.”

“Chloe Mathers?”

~Why do I know that name?~

A memory tantalized me with some long ignored recollection, begging to be caught and tugged.

~Chloe Mathers…~

Fleur smiled and showed no intention of leaving as I spun the envelope in my hands and sliced it open with a letter knife.

I frowned, pulling free a single card with bronze accents on the corners and the standard description of being invited to a get-together.

My mind slammed into remembrance.

“Oh, no,” I groaned. “ ~That~ Chloe Mathers.”

Fleur planted her hands on my desk, intrigue all over her face. “Who is she? It doesn’t sound like you like her.”

“It’s not that I don’t like her. More she doesn’t like me.” I flipped the invite upside down, trying to see something personal or hint that perhaps she’d sent this to the wrong person.

“She was the most popular girl in school. For a few months of the year, when it came time for school parties or proms, she befriended me.

“She and her little group of stuck-up witches would ply me with sleepovers—that I didn’t want to go to, but my dad made me—and hold a seat for me in class—which I never sat in because they just cheated off my work—all to drag me to Belle Elle and get them discounts on dresses and shoes.”

“Children can be such brats.”

“Yep.” I nodded distractedly, remembering how much I’d hated high school.

How every hour I spent in the faculty classrooms and listened to teachers drone on was a waste because, unlike my peers, I didn’t get to go home and play outside or hang with sweet boyfriends on the weekends.

Once the bell rang, David picked me up and drove me to Belle Elle where I’d work until well past most other students’ bedtimes.

I looked up, nibbling with uncertainty and nerves I thought I’d deleted from being an outcast at school. “Do you think they sent it by mistake? Why would they invite me?”

“What is it?” Fleur plucked the invite from my hold, scanning the details. “It has your name on the top, so it isn’t a mistake.”

She read out loud, “You’re cordially invited to spend the evening reminiscing and sharing life’s progress with the girls from St. Hilga’s Education this coming Friday at the Palm Politics.

“Yourself and plus one are invited.” She wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, I can hear their contemptuous attitudes just from a generic invitation.”

I hung my head, massaging the muscles in my neck. “It’s short notice, isn’t it? Do they mean this Friday or next?”

She glanced at the envelope, peering at the stamp. “Uh oh, it’s tonight. It was sent a week ago. I guess it got lost in the mailroom. It is, after all, addressed to Elle the Ding Dong Belle.”

I smothered my face in my hands. “Oh, God, don’t remind me of that awful nickname.”

“Man, kids are cruel,” Fleur muttered.

I didn’t untangle myself from my hands, pretending the pink light coming through my fingers could erase my childhood, and I could forget about pranks and nasty little girls.

Fleur straightened some paperwork on my desk, stacking a pile of folders, and placing a few stray pens into my stainless steel holder.

When order had been granted, and my nerves had calmed somewhat—reminding me they couldn’t hurt me anymore—that I was in my Belle Elle tower and they were down there in Manhattan somewhere, I looked up and breathed deep.

We were living our lives. Away from each other. It was perfect.

Only Fleur ruined my coexistence by saying, “You know you have to go, right?”

“What?” My mouth hung open. “No way in hell am I going.”

“You have to. Not to prove to them how incredibly successful and powerful you are but to prove to yourself.”

I scoffed, plucking a pen from the holder and tapping it wildly against my notepad. “I don’t need to do anything of the sort.”

She planted a hand on her hip, giving me a raised eyebrow and a look that said ‘yeah, right.’

I ignored her. “No way. No how.” I snatched the invite and stabbed my finger at the plus one. “Besides, I have no one to go with.

“If I had some drop-dead gorgeous man who could remind me to stand tall and not let them win, then ~maybe~. But I don’t, and they’ll most likely have their man candy with a rug rat or two.

“And I’m still an outcast like I always was in high school with her cat.”

Sage nudged my ankle, yawning with her cute little tongue shaped into a funnel.

“I love you, Sage, but you’re hardly ‘bring to a party’ material.”

I’d already unwittingly shown how sad and depressing my personal life was to Mr. Everett by wearing her on my shoulders yesterday.

~No.~

I’d had enough embarrassment in my life already without adding more to it.

Refreshing my laptop screen, I did my best to read forecast numbers and find them riveting.

Fleur shifted. “I really think—”

“No,” I kept my eyes glued on the spreadsheet. “Now, if there isn’t anything else, I’d appreciate some quiet so I can get this done.”

She sniffed but turned and plodded dramatically to the door. Reaching it, she turned with a spin so fast it kicked out her dress into a tulip flare. “You know what? I’m taking charge of this.

“You wore that ivory and caramel lace dress because I made it easy for you to do so. This is the same sort of thing. I know you don’t like him, but he’s handsome and will have your back.”

My heart froze into a popsicle.

~She’ll call Mr. Everett?~

How does she know about him?

He won’t have my back.

He’ll find some other surface to push me against and terrorize me more.~

I stiffened. “No, Fleur. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

“You’ll thank me once you’ve seen yourself in their eyes. When you’ve felt their awe at how hard you work and their envy at your unlimited bank accounts.

“And you’ll pretend you aren’t, but you’ll be happy when they flirt with your man and find out he only has eyes for you.”

~She’s going to do it.~

She’ll call him.

She’ll deliberately sabotage my desire never to see him again.~

Before I could tell her I had no intention of being fulfilled by jealousy or had any desire to announce to the undeserving witches from high school what my bank account looked like, she was gone.

To ruin my life.

And I couldn’t do a thing to stop it.