I knew what you really needed to be complete.
Love.
You just needed love. And the older I got, the less that notion seemed like it would be my reality.
Chapter Three
Beatrix
The first thing I thought when I looked at the dress was how much skin I’d be showing. In fairness it wasn’t even that much, but for me and how modest I normally was, it was almost too much. It was far more than I’d probably ever shown in my entire life. But it was gorgeous, this emerald-green, floor-length dress with beading around the bodice, the material no doubt forming around every curve and hollow of my body, showcasing every nook I didn’t want seen.
I was a little hesitant. I wasn’t some svelte model with a perfect form. I was just like any other normal, average woman, thicker in places I didn’t want to be thick in, with bumps and blemishes, and a self-esteem that could use a good boost.
But I couldn’t deny that the very feminine part of me wanted to wear it, wanted to feel pretty.
“Beatrix, I know what you’re thinking.”
I blinked and looked up at Patrice, who watched me with skepticism.
“What?”
She lifted an eyebrow, and I gave her a sheepish smile. “You’re thinking about backing out, that the dress isn’t something you can pull off, but that’s where you’re wrong.”
Patrice had been my friend for so long I couldn’t picture my life without her in it. Not only was she genuinely sweet, but she told me how it was, not mincing words, knowing I appreciated honesty more than anything else. I didn’t need somebody to sugarcoat things for me. I didn’t need my ego stroked.
“That is what I was thinking,” I muttered, my focus on the dress.
“No one will know you’re you until after the event.”
I felt my brows knit and glanced up at her. “What do you mean?”
She turned and grabbed a small paper bag off the table, one that had the boutique’s name embossed on the front in silver lettering. She reached inside and pulled out a black, gorgeously beaded mask. It was the kind people wore to a mascaraed ball.
“Um,” I said as she handed it over and I took it. I stared at it for long moments, running my fingers along the satin and crystals. “So the auction is really going there, huh?”
She chuckled. “Believe me, having the guests masked wasn’t my idea. But the committee thought it would add more mystery to the whole event, make it more interesting.”
I guess, but it almost seemed silly to wear a mask, as if we were in some Eyes Wide Shut scene. On the other hand, wearing it would give me a modicum of anonymity, and I couldn’t deny that appealed to the very shy part of me.
“The masks were a last-minute add-on by the committee. I would’ve told you about them when I asked you to do the auction, but I just found out about it myself.”
I glanced up at her, and she shrugged, giving me another smile. An employee from the boutique came up and started talking to Patrice, and I focused on the mask once more then turned my attention to the dress. The gown hung from a hanger on the back of the dressing room door of the boutique. There was a small table beside it, a pair of black strappy stilettos on top of it. And those scared the hell out of me.
I could barely walk in ballet flats on the best of days. How the hell was I going to walk in those killers? And we wouldn’t even talk about my lack of coordination.
On top of the table, they set out a couple pieces of jewelry I could choose from. I looked at the dress again, the strapless gown snug around the bodice before flaring out slightly at the waist. I wasn’t much of a jewelry wearer, but one necklace really called out to me.
The chain was delicate, fragile-looking, and so thin it was almost as if it weren’t even there. And hanging from it was this tiny diamond, one I knew would lay right against that little hollow of my throat. There were matching earrings with it, small diamond solitaires that looked feminine. I knew nothing about fashion, and working as an administrative assistant at a nursing home meant I didn’t have to know the latest couture.
I reached out and picked up the necklace, running my finger along the little diamond. It was beautiful and no doubt expensive, but it wasn’t flashy, and I think that’s why it called to me the way it did. It didn’t stand out, just like me.
“So, we’ll have you at the venue at half past seven on Saturday. The auction starts at nine, so there will be time for you to mingle and catch your breath. You can have some champagne to unwind, and there will be some appetizers and whatnot served.” Patrice gave me a smile, because she no doubt saw how nervous I was. “The boutique is donating not only the dresses, but makeup and hair too. They are making house calls, so I’ll text you the time they’ll be at your house. Sound good?”
I nodded, because my throat was too tight to actually say anything. I looked back at the gown and jewelry. I’d never been around so many expensive things firsthand, let alone been the one to wear them. I’d feel like Cinderella at the ball come Saturday, but on the heels of that thought, I remembered why I was there and that I’d be auctioned off to the highest bidder.
Chapter Four
Beatrix
The auction
There was nothing quite like feeling as if you were completely at the wrong place at the wrong time, wearing clothes that weren’t yours, as if you were literally Alice and had fallen down a rabbit hole.
I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb, like I had this flashing neon sign above my head that screamed I didn’t belong here. I had the right clothes on, the right hair and makeup, with diamonds dripping from my ears and neck… but I so didn’t belong here.
Gorgeous women who looked more like supermodels climbed out of luxury cars, the men who followed dressed in tailored tuxedos, the aura around them screaming they had enough money to buy anything, to get whatever they wanted.
I heard the car door close behind me, drawing me out of my thoughts. I glanced over my shoulder, the limo door now shut, the black gleaming vehicle provided by the charity event for all the “fresh meat” that would be on that auction block.
All the woman who were being auctioned off tonight had been picked up in that limo, but I’d been the last woman to leave the confines, lingering behind and trying to calm my nerves. Everyone else was so excited, chatty in the limo, anxious to see how much they’d go for, who would want them enough to bid a small fortune. It was clear I was the odd ball in the group, all the other girls coming from money, their positions in the event orchestrated by their families who had ties.
I’d been the extra girl they needed, because they didn’t have enough, the friend of the event organizer. A favor she needed. But I’d do anything for Patrice, so here I was.
I turned back around and stared at the building once more. I did a little bit of research on the “venue,” which was actually the residence of the St. James family, who also owned the St. James Distillery and were the healthiest family in the entire state.
The plantation-style house was gorgeous and reeked of money. It had large pillars in the front, looking straight out of Gone with the Wind. It had a sprawling, massive fountain in the center, an angel made out of stone reaching for the heavens as water sprayed all around her. The steps that led up to the main doors was wide, marbled. The driveway wrapped around the front in a circular pattern, allowing cars to come and go in an easy, quick formation. And the manicured lawn surrounding the property went out for as far as the eye could see. The accent lighting around the entire property had things lit up like we were at a damn baseball field, with only shadows hinting in the very far recesses of the property.