I reach out and grab Rachel’s hand. “Let’s just get through tonight. This week, you and me. We’ll go out for coffee or stay in and have a movie night and download everything going on in each other’s lives.”
Rachel squeezes my hand back. “I’ll hold you to that promise. Now, get your ass in this chair so the stylist can do her wonders. She’ll be here any sec—” Right then the doorbell rings and Rachel springs up to go answer it.
An hour later, my hair and make up are done and I’m in the sheath dress. The neckline is high enough to keep my nipples in a full coverage bra. Rachel pleads and I change into red lingerie she brought, tags still on. The bra is simple but the thong is lace. She looks so relieved, I have a thought.
“Why do you want me to wear this so badly? Did you buy it?”
She hesitates, obviously torn.
“Wait, Adam bought me this, didn’t he?” Part of me wants to take it off and put back on my own on principle, but my cotton briefs show a panty line. And besides, it’s not like Adam’s ever going to see me in the lingerie set.
“It’s okay,” I wave a hand. “Zip me up?” I bow my head and Rachel obliges.
“I’m sorry, Daphne,” Rachel says softly. “Adam’s been insistent on certain things. I know you’re my boss but…”
“But one day he might be too.” Guilt flushes me. I’ve been thinking of myself, considering my options, but I’m not the only one affected by the Belladonna merger. And Rachel isn’t just my friend. She’s my employee. “It’s fine. I put you in a tough position, and I want you to know that I appreciate having you in my corner.”
She gives me a thin smile. There are lines on her forehead and around her eyes that I’ve never noticed before. This whole ordeal has weighed on her.
“Hey, I know,” I say on impulse. “After all this is done, let’s just get away together. You and me. Not just for coffee. We’ll have a girl’s spa weekend. The full pampering treatment.”
“Okay,” Rachel says, but she doesn’t look at me. “I’ve got to go change.”
“Of course.” I drop her hand and head to the mirror to check out my ‘do. The stylist worked wonders, but there’s a flush to my cheeks that’s more than makeup. I’m glowing.
“So how’s tonight going to go?” Rachel asks from behind the screen where she’s changing into her own gown. “What are you going to say to Adam?”
“What I should’ve said in the first place.” I raise my chin at the woman in the mirror. She looks strong, determined. Game time. “I’m going to break off the engagement.”
Rachel is silent until she emerges. She’s wearing a sheath in a floral pattern.
“Oh you look so great,” I gush but she doesn’t smile. Her face is pale.
“How? The board and everyone will be here.”
“I’ll be discreet. I don’t want to cause a scene.” I shrug. I haven’t let myself sweat the details. It’s enough that I’m here and that I’m not leaving without this engagement being broken. “I’ll pull Adam aside and tell him. Honestly, he’s the one who planned this party. I’d have told him no, if he’d consulted me.”
Rachel looks so suddenly panicked, I catch her hand again. It’s cold as marble.
“Sheesh, you’re freezing,” I chafe her hand. “You look a bit pale. Are you feeling okay?”
“Fine. I just haven’t eaten all day.” She draws up her cheeks in a forced smile but there’s still worry in her eyes. “Come on,” she says. “Adam and the guests are waiting.”
I have to credit Adam; he has great taste in everything but engagement rings. And he knows how to throw a party. The building is gorgeous. The foyer is dripping with floral displays. I stop on the grand marble staircase and take in the sea of about a thousand roses. One display is smaller but more tasteful. I recognize the blowsy blooms as pink Edens, a climbing variety of garden rose.
Rachel pauses beside me. “Your father sent those.”
Shit. Dad. I never called back to try to catch him after his nap. “He’s not coming? He’s been resting a lot when I call but the nurse said he’s been feeling better lately.”
“Adam told him about the engagement party,” Rachel says. “Dr. Laurel was pleased.”
Of course he was. Dad always did like things neat and tidy. “I need to call him.” Tell him I’m breaking my engagement to his favorite surrogate son. Dad will be disappointed. A pang goes through me at the thought, but I shake my head.
What does it matter what my dad thinks? It’s my life. I get to choose who to marry and I deserve to be happy. Why does that feel like such a rebellious thought? It’s absurd that choosing my own happiness should have to feel like such an act of courage. But it only makes me more determined to stand firm in my new truth.
As Rachel leads me down a side hall so we can slip into the back of the ballroom, an image of me marrying Logan, dressed in a slave collar, jeweled piercings and nothing else flies through my head. I grin at the ridiculous thought, but then sigh. Dad would have a fit if I even mentioned the name ‘Logan’ and ‘marry’ in the same sentence. Better break it to him gently.
Then my eyes fly open wide at the thoughts so casually running through my head. Not that Logan wants to marry me. It’s too soon to be thinking about that. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I need to sort out my life first and he’s never even said—
“Here we are,” Rachel says, breaking into my thoughts as she pauses before a back door to the ballroom. Beyond the white and gilt doors, the crowd murmuring is a dull roar.
“One sec.” I check my purse and pull out my phone. No missed calls. Nothing from dad. Or Logan. Am I happy or sad about the latter? “The nurse said she’d have Dad call when he woke up. She must have forgotten--”
“Shit, Daphne,” Rachel interrupts. “do you have the ring?”
Right. Almost forgot. I pull it out of my purse. “Right here.”
A bevy of servers, dressed in black tuxedos with gold cummerbunds, stream by. Rachel pulls me into an alcove.
“Are you going to wear it?” Rachel’s eyes are wide.
“No.” Rach looks so shocked, I take pity on her. “I have a plan.” I dig in my purse and pull out the long green opera gloves I ordered along with the dress. I tug them on and drop the ring back in my purse, then waggle my fingers at Rachel. “See? Doesn’t go with the outfit.” She looks doubtful, but I pull out of a pair of white gloves for her. “It’ll make sense when we match.”
I check my phone again as she pulls on her own pair of gloves but no texts or calls have come in in the last minute and I put it away.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess. You seem eager.”
“I am.” I can’t believe it, but I am. I’m ready to get this done with and prove to myself once and for all that I have changed. I place a hand on the fancy gilt door, ready to push it open. Nervousness flutters in my chest, but I expect it, embrace it.
For the first time in my life, I’m owning what I want. And I’m going to fight until I get it.