Adelaide Confused Page 7

  It was a fairly obvious answer. “Because if he sees you then he’ll never be interested in me.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” I wasn’t.

  “It’s not like we’ve been flirting back a forth. Things are always awkward between us.”

  “Like how?” she asked, intrigued.

  “Like when he looks at me, I can’t tell if he’s repulsed or attracted by what he sees. Honestly, it’s a toss-up.”

  “Why would he be repulsed?” Her confusion was flattering.

  “He’s only seen me acting strange.”

  She wasn’t surprised by my confession—that wasn’t so flattering. “So if it’s not chemistry, what’s the attraction?”

  Good question. I thought about it for a moment, trying to be as honest as I could. “You know... I just don’t know. Maybe it’s the mystery.”

  “He’s mysterious?”

  “Extremely so.”

  She smiled. “Don’t forget hot.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  * * *

  Francesca took me to a little boutique where you didn’t simply pick off the peg. Instead we had a consultant, a young wisp of a man with perfect posture named Dominique. Dominique and Francesca put their heads together, speaking softly. They sounded as if they were trying to solve a particularly delicate crisis—and maybe I was.

  I tried on a little black dress first. They said it washed me out and we moved on to the next. It was a stunning red number that swept the floor regally, but they said it was at odds with my red hair. I corrected them. My hair wasn’t red, it was strawberry-blonde. We tried a strappy cream and a low cut yellow, but neither fit me well. There was no door on my dressing room, and Francesca took pleasure in popping through the curtain whenever I was indecent to thrust a new gown my way. The winner ended up being an emerald gown I’d been forced into last, perfect in its simplicity. They said it was also at odds with my hair, but in a good way.

  Francesca charged it to Reed Wallace. He’d given her a card for the occasion. She made sure I had shoes, a clutch, and other accessories. And since Reed had insisted she treat herself to something, Francesca bought some dirty lingerie. She said they were naughty; I said they were nasty.

  On the ride home she asked, “Will you put in a good word for me?”

  “Since I’m temporarily in his employ, I assume you mean in a professional capacity.”

  “No,” she said, matching my snarky tone. “I mean you should tell him I’m single.”

  “I thought Brock didn’t leave town for a few more days.”

  She waved a hand. “He’s practically gone anyway.”

  “So in other words, you already got the carpets.”

  “You should see them. They’re so soft.”

  Chapter 12

  Room nine had the best lighting, so that was where I went to get ready. Stephen sat on the bed, attentive and curious. The door was propped open so that we could keep an eye on the office. Outside the ghost paced, or gave the impression of pacing. He was agitated, but I didn’t have the time to figure out why.

  I was trying to pin my hair into place when headlights flashed, signaling a car had pulled into the lot. Stephen jumped up, jogging to the door. “It’s him!” he said, unable to contain his excitement. I knew it wasn’t mine.

  “Go get him,” I instructed, still struggling with my hair.

  Stephen loped off, running through the ghost, oblivious to the fact that it had been blocking the doorway. As if blown by the wind, the ghost swirled in Stephen’s wake, but didn’t dissipate, rather, seamlessly converging with fluid grace. The misty cloud restricted into a man of alabaster smoke. He drifted through the room, coming closer.

  His features were difficult to distinguish, but I thought he might have once been handsome, and young. I put him at around thirty when he died. He came to loom just behind me. I watched him through the mirror, unable to look away. His eyes weren’t hazy but glassy pools of awareness. He needed something, just like the little ghost dog. I could feel it, and it was overwhelming. His desperation and anticipation warred with each other, and there was misery, a deep misery.

  I shook it off. Gaining control over myself, I whispered, “I know you want something from me, but tonight I don’t have time to figure it out. And I’m only going to make time later if you make yourself useful.” He shifted around me feeling slightly relieved. I added, “And no more popping out unexpectedly. Do not scare me, or even surprise me. I hate it.” Earlier when I was pulling into the lot at Sterling’s he’d breezed through the passenger door, forming a solid gray mass of the sickliest hue on my passenger seat. I had screamed—obviously.

  The ghost shifted suddenly. It was not with caution, more of an awareness that warned Reed was coming. Sure enough, he coasted through the open doorway a moment later. “Adelaide, you look lovely.”

  “I told you not to call me Adelaide,” I said to his reflection.

  Stephen followed Reed in, reclaiming his seat on the bed.

  “I’ll have to call you Adelaide if we’re to act the part of a couple.” He was looking extremely attractive, and I usually didn’t go for men in formal wear.

  I had to give myself a mental shake. I wasn’t immune to his charm, and it snuck up unexpectedly. I’d have to be careful tonight. “We’re not acting yet.” I nodded at Stephen who was watching us with a keen eye. “You need to pay Stephen. He’s covering the rest of my shift.”

  “Of course,” Reed said, while pulling out his wallet. “I don’t mean to appear gauche, but truly this is the smallest bill I have on me.” He handed over a one hundred dollar bill, nice and crisp. He gave Stephen a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’m sure you deserve it.”

  “He deserves three hundred dollars, a bill for every hour.” I gave Reed a pointed look as I applied a pale blush.

  “Adelaide!” Stephen spluttered, appalled at my temerity.

  I shrugged. “Put it towards your college fund.”

  Reed was irritated, but he covered it like a champ, extracting two more bills and passing them over to Stephen. “Most of the women I see try to at least pretend they aren’t interested in my money,” he said wryly.

  I feigned surprise, “Why? It’s your best quality.”

  He ignored the insult with grace. “The women I see don’t get ready while I watch, either.”

  I smudged on some clear mascara. “Why not?”

  His annoyance was only growing, but he answered calmly. “I suppose it makes them uncomfortable to be seen when they’re not looking their best.”

  Stephen piped up. “I think girls only get ready in front of men they’re not attracted to.”

  Reed Wallace was so aggravated I thought he might explode. I smiled and turned around as I glanced down at myself. “I guess I’m ready.”

  “Not yet,” said Reed, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket.

  “If that’s a piece of jewelry,” I said, pointing at the box, “then you can shove it up your ass. This isn’t a movie and I’m not really your date.”

  Reed was pissed, and that was putting it mildly. It was more a contemptuous outrage. I was supposed to fall at his feet in adoration. After all, I had no money or social standing, insignificant in his eyes.

  “Have fun, Adelaide,” Stephen said hesitantly.

  I handed him the room key. “Thanks for covering for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left the room, not waiting for Reed to follow. Unfortunately, I knew he would.

  The driver waited, hulking next to the sleek town car. I thought he seemed strange though he didn’t give off any unfitting emotions. His large and square shaped head was filled with exaggerated features. It was hard to miss the bulging eyes, bulbous nose, thick lips, and I won’t even go on about the gapped front teeth. He was like a caricature, though his body was nothing to laugh at. Large and muscular, he towered over me as he opened the back door. He was big enoug
h to be a bodyguard, and maybe he was. Maybe he was Reed’s.

  The ride was uneventful. Reed and I didn’t speak. His emotions had calmed and were shallow enough to ignore, though his charm was a different matter. It was like a sickness, a plague, hovering unseen, just waiting to infect you when you least expected it.

  The charm made me aware of his breathing, slow and steady. It made me curious of his thoughts, were they of me? It made me take notice of his sleeve and how it brushed against my arm. It made me want to strangle Reed Wallace.

  The ride ended not a moment too soon. The large circular drive was filled with cars, all shiny and expensive. An attendant ran up and opened the door. I slid out, ungracefully I’m sure, and started walking toward the entrance. Reed caught up, his hand finding the small of my back as he led me to dinner.

  Sleeping Oaks looked a lot like the White House, sprawling with pillars. The main doors were overlarge and left open for the evening. Reed didn’t have to give his name. He just swept me straight through.

  The foyer had a vaulted ceiling, complete with chandelier. I’d never actually been inside of the country club, though I’d dropped Francesca off a number of times. A set of double doors to our left led to a ballroom, and Reed took me inside. Small round tables covered in creamy cloth and candles filled the cavernous space. Women in gowns and men in suits chatted in casual clumps, most middle-aged and white.

  “What’s the name of your company?” I asked.

  “I have more than one, but you can refer to any of them as Wallace Enterprise.”

  “Your employees aren’t a diverse bunch,” I noted aloud.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It was just an observation,” I said innocently.

  “You’re supposed to be my latest... paramour. You might try to act as if you like me,” he suggested. He rested his hand on the back of my neck, an intimate and possessive gesture. The feel of it made my stomach strangely queasy and I shivered in response.

  He was triumphant and smug. His reaction brought me back to reality, effective as a dunk in icy water. I elbowed him in the side, not bothering to whisper, “Fuck off!”

  He only moved closer, cocky and conceited, he smiled down at me. “Why don’t you find our table, it should be near the front. I’ve got some business to take care of.” He moved away before I could respond, leaving me alone in a room full of strangers.

  Across the ballroom a small platform and podium identified the front which Reed had indicated. I made my way slowly, stepping between tables in a roundabout fashion. This was the exact situation I usually avoided—stuffed inside a room full of people. A few years ago I’d have been hysterical by now. But I’d come a long way since then, pushing myself, learning tolerance and control. But this wasn’t a simple Sunday stroll through the center of town. This was a potential nightmare.

  Lucky for me most of the guests were at ease. It wasn’t a new environment for them, these functions were commonplace. And commonplace was good. I felt for the unusual, emotions you wouldn’t expect at a dinner party. It wasn’t easy. It was like playing hot and cold.

  Classy jazz drifted through the room, setting a quiet background tone. No one paid much attention to me as I wandered, most didn’t even look away from their conversations, totally engrossed. It suited me just fine.

  I was nearing the front, but wasn’t ready to sit so I doubled back to the bar. I accepted champagne, though I had no intention of drinking. It was not that I didn’t want to drink. I was relatively young, so of course I did. But being the perfect candidate for alcoholism had always made me hesitate. Although in this particular situation holding a drink made me fit in with the rest of them, so I carried it around like a security blanket.

  I was stepping between two separate groups when a wave of emotions crashed over me, drowning out everything else. Pure pleasure, ripe with passion and rippled with a thrilling carefree, it was glee. It was bliss. It was strong.

  This was where the hot/cold came in. I had to wander around trying to gauge if the emotions were more potent or fading away, hoping to follow the feeling trail to its source. This time wasn’t a challenge.

  She stood surrounded by admirers, attracting more than her fair share of attention. She wore red, making me glad I hadn’t. The dress was cut low, her cleavage high. She had long legs, tall heels, and perfect hair. Honestly, she reminded me of Francesca, except I hated her.

  I didn’t join her group at first, hanging back to eavesdrop. I learned her name was Danielle Smathers, and she was engaged to a prominent figure at Wallace Enterprise. One man joked that her intended had gone off to fetch a drink, but had forgotten what he was doing halfway there. I took this to mean her fiancé was old.

  I was wrong, he wasn’t old—he was ancient. A small and stooped man shuffled past, shouldering through the small crowd of men. In each hand he held a champagne flute, and slowly, almost painfully, he extended one to Danielle.

  Men who should have been chatting up their wives scattered to the wind, staying only long enough to greet the senior employee as if they hadn’t just been shamelessly flirting with his fiancé. It happened so suddenly I didn’t have a chance to flee along with them.

  Danielle noticed me immediately. She smiled sweetly, “Oh, hello, I don’t believe we’ve met.” She radiated a euphoria that was irresistible. Offering her hand, she said, “I’m Danielle Smathers.”

  Unable to resist her happiness, I found myself moving closer with a goofy smile plastered across my face. Abruptly I gained control, cursing myself and sedately saying, “I’m Adelaide Graves.”

  She turned to her intended. “Harold, would you mind terribly if we went off to chat. You know, just us girls?”

  He gave her a lecherous look and I felt the stab of his lust. I grimaced, trying to control that pesky gag reflex. He squeezed her arm, the wrinkled spots of his hand sagging to and fro. “Not at all, dearie, you two girls go have fun.”

  She gave him a farewell smile and hooked her arm through mine, leading me through the room. “It’s not often I find someone my own age to talk with at these events,” she confided cheerfully. It was true. We stood out from the crowd. “Who are you here with?”

  I considered taking offence. I mean, I could work for the company, couldn’t I? But I wasn’t really hurt by the assumption, not to mention I was buzzing from her happy thoughts. So I said, “Reed Wallace.”

  “I’ve been trying to land him for months! How did you manage?” Surprisingly, she wasn’t jealous, just impressed.

  I shrugged. “This is a one-time thing. We aren’t, you know... together.”

  Her breasts came uncomfortably close to my nose as she leaned down to whisper, “If I was you, I’d do everything and anything to get his ring on my finger.” That wasn’t news to me. “Your best chance is to get a bun in the oven.” Deliberately she looked to my stomach with a knowing smile.

  “Well, thanks for the advice.”

  She didn’t stop there. Danielle continued to give me unsolicited advice for another quarter-hour. By the time dinner was being served I knew the best breast doctor (Danielle had strongly suggested I get some work done). I also knew the four men she would dump Harold for in a heartbeat. She’d said all this and more in a jolly fashion. I didn’t respect her, but I was finding it hard to hate her as I’d originally intended.

  I sunk into the chair beside Reed, having finally separated myself. It hadn’t been easy, Danielle’s emotions were addicting.

  Reed was busy speaking to a couple of peons when I arrived. He stopped talking to introduce me, thankfully not as his girlfriend but simply Adelaide Graves. I smiled like a robot and shook their hands, bored to tears. I didn’t understand a word they said, but I didn’t really care either. Reed wrapped his arm around the back of my chair, leaning close. I would have shaken him off but we weren’t alone, so I pretended to like it while reminding myself that I really didn’t.<
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  When they left he asked, “Did you feel anything interesting?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “I found your female counterpart.” I glanced in her direction.

  “Danielle Smathers?” He smiled. “I think not.”

  “Why so?”

  “She’s an attractive woman, but beyond that she’s nothing but fluff. I’m sure Danielle classifies herself as a social climber, but no, she’s not even that.”

  “She’s charming.” It was true.

  “How clever of her,” he said dryly.

  “She’s also high as a kite,” I admitted.

  He laughed. “She’d have to be if she’s with Harold Determeyer.” He leaned closer, speaking into my ear. “Most are under the impression that Harold has retained his position at Wallace Enterprise because he’s passionate about the work.” Reed shook his head faintly, I could feel it. “He’s mismanaged his money, investments gone bad. Danielle is in for a shock when he passes.”

  “You mean he has no money?”

  “He still makes a pretty penny, don’t get me wrong, but he has no substantial savings. Ultimately, he works because he has to.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  Reed looked at me like we’d never met before. “She’s after his money, there’s a term for that you know...”

  “Yes, she’s a gold digger, I know. But it’s not as if he doesn’t know what she’s after, and vice versa. So if they’re both aware of the other’s motives, then no one is being taken advantage of. It’s just a sordid arrangement, but something they’ve both agreed to.”

  “This sounds like the opinion of that friend of yours, Francesca.”

  Realizing he was doodling circles on the back of my neck, I swatted his hand away. “Speaking of Francesca, she asked me to put in a good word. But obviously, since I know what a schmuck you are, I won’t. Instead I’m telling you to fix whatever mess you’ve made. She thinks she’s in love with you and it’s making her... well, not herself. Fix it.”

  His good humor fled in an instant. I’d made him angry. “I’m as incapable of turning off the charm as you are of tuning out emotions. It’s impossible to get rid of the gift. If there was a way I’d know about it.”

  I looked down at the ring on my finger knowing he was wrong but unwilling to tell him so. Instead I said, “Fix it some other way then.”