Twisted Rogue (The Twisted Love and Rogue Love Collection) (8 page)

I took a deep breath and looked into the ornate frame of my full-length mirror. It was like a stranger stood there, staring back at me. Despite my lack of makeup and plain hair, I looked like a princess.  The low-cut lithe fabric clung to my body, showing off the firm round curves of my breasts and hips and the flat plane of my stomach. A thin silver ribbon accentuated my waist with a tiny crystal brooch right over my belly button. The fabric flowed down from my hips, looking loose and ethereal, but still clinging to my legs with every movement.

I turned around and admired the way my exposed back was only covered by a thin layer of sheer, shimmering lace. I wanted to wear this dress every day for the rest of my life. It was truly a work of art, and the most beautiful one I had ever seen.

I reluctantly slipped out of the dress and folded it back into the box. It was getting late and I needed my sleep so I could have the energy I needed to make sure the party ran smoothly. I quickly changed and washed up for bed, falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Saturday morning came far too soon. I woke up to the blaring of my alarm clock before the sun was up. I jumped out of bed, remember the dozens of last minute details that needed my supervision. I ran downstairs to find the caterers already setting up and the florists opening the back of a huge truck of flowers outside the back door. I rushed around, supervising the vendors and extra staff as they set up, for several hours before I remember to run by the kitchen and grab some coffee. Jane was waiting in the kitchen with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast.

“Mr. Harrison asked me to make sure you ate today,” she explained, shoving the plate into my hands.

I smiled as she hurried off to make sure none of the vendors damaged any part of the mansion. The eggs were already cold, so she must have been waiting there for me a while. The afternoon was a flurry of activity, as the flowers were carefully arranged, the food prepared and laid out, and the performers arrived and tested out the equipment.

Excitement started to replace my anxiety as I watched my visions start falling into place.  Before I knew it, it was time for me to go get ready. I rushed up to my room and jumped into the shower, careful to scrub myself down, wash and condition my hair with the expensive vanilla-scented products that Jane had left out for me, and shave every errant hair from my body.

I primped myself more thoroughly than I ever had before; blow drying my hair and then using a curling iron to create big, soft curls. I moisturized my whole body and carefully applied my makeup. I went with a strong smoky eye and a light pink, glossy lip to accentuate the dreamy quality of my gorgeous gown.

I finally stepped into the dress and zipped myself in and slid into the beautiful pair of strappy crystal-studded Louboutins that I had found left by the box with my dress. I felt giddy as I turned to admire myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl looking back at me. She looked glamorous, wealthy, and beautiful. I had never really considered myself beautiful. My friend Mary was beautiful, with her pale blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and long legs. I always considered myself average. My hair was long, thick and glossy, but the dark color next to my light skin and green eyes made me feel mousy. Unlike Mary, I was also tiny. When I stood next to her willowy body, my head only came up to her shoulder.

As I looked in the mirror, admiring how I looked all dressed up in the beautiful designer gown that Blake Harrison had left for me, I was finally able to admit that I could be beautiful. I didn’t have time to contemplate it for too long though, because one glance at the clock told me that guests would start arriving in half an hour.

I grabbed my clutch off the bed and ran down the hallway as fast as the tall stilettos would let me. I let out a small sigh as I reached the top of the main staircase. Even though I had pictured it a million times in my head, refining every detail, seeing it in person was incredible.

All the lights were out except the large crystal chandelier and hundreds of tall candles places strategically around the room in safe but aesthetically pleasing arrangements. The dim lights revealed the lovely flower arrangements spread around the room, designed to make it look like a wild garden. Long tables lined the sides of the hallways, with small gourmet bites of food that were designed to reflect the whimsical appearance of the entryway.

I walked down the hallway to the open doors of the ballroom. It had been cleaned out and spruced up with candles and flower arrangements like the entryway. A large champagne fountain flowed in the middle of the room and a bartender was busy at work on a variety of signature cocktails at the back bar.  Each one was exquisitely crafted, with layers of unmixed alcohol, floating flowers, or flames flirting around the top. A string quartet played quietly on stage and I could see the other musicians were preparing in the back.

Everything was ready. I just hoped that the guests would come, and that the guest of honor would remember his entrance.

The first wave of guests arrived all at once in a flurry of perfumed silk.  A line of limos pulled up to the grand front door and out climbed chatty socialites, business tycoons, gorgeous models, and celebrities in designer gowns and expensive suits. The sounds of laughter and chatter drowned out the soft music as the guests poured through the door and picked up the glasses of champagne and masquerade masks offered to them by the door attendants.

As the guests poured in, I watched from the side of the hallway to make sure everything ran smoothly. One of the servers handed me a glass of champagne, which I took with a grateful smile and sipped quickly to calm my nerves. The effervescent, almost floral tasting bubbles gave me an instant boost. I wasn’t used to alcohol at all, as it was just one of many things that my parents condemned as sinful. Of course Mercy River High School students often snuck beers behind the bleachers, but I had always tried so hard to obey my parents that I had only ever tried a sip or two.

“So good to see you Cassie!” The tall woman threw her arms around an equally gorgeous woman standing by the table next to me. “It seems like ages since we’ve been to a good party.”

“I know. I get so tired of the city sometimes. But I wasn’t expecting this invite. Guess Blake Harrison’s back on the market?” The girl giggled and picked up a strawberry, which she dipped in her Cristal champagne and popped into her mouth.

“Yeah, heard that he’s been in hiding cause his wife ran off with someone or something like that. Guess he has enough pull to keep it out of the media. Let’s go find him. I wouldn’t mind being the next Mrs. Harrison. He’s loaded!”

The giggling models wandered off, arm-in-arm while I looked disapprovingly at their perfectly shaped tiny butts walking away. They were certainly beautiful enough, but I didn’t think Blake Harrison deserved some snotty gold digging model. I felt a protective anger flare inside me when I thought about how flippantly they talked about his heartache and how they clearly cared more about the Harrison fortune than Blake Harrison himself. I thought about the strong lines of his jaw and how he hid his hurt beneath a mask of power. Blake Harrison deserved to be adored and cared for by someone with depth and intelligence.

As I wandered through the throngs of guests, I felt a tinge of jealousy. Those models might not be good enough for Blake Harrison, but certainly some of the women at this party were better suited for him. The strikingly beautiful, refined women with Ivy League graduate degrees, and blood that ran blue as the ocean milled about sipping champagne and making witty conversation with the top business executives. Those were the type of women that deserved a man like Blake Harrison. I had let silly fantasies get a hold of me, but I was just a low-level temporary employee from a small town that no one here had ever heard of and I would never be enough for someone like Blake Harrison.

“Hey, would you like to dance?” asked a cute guy in his twenties, with brown hair and a pert nose.

“Me?” I replied in confusion, looking around to see if there was another girl standing nearby.

“Yeah. Did you come with someone? Sorry, I just saw you standing here looking so pretty and I thought you were alone.”

I felt a warm blush creep up my cheeks. The guy looked like a model, with floppy brown hair hanging over his eyes and soft, rounded lips. I couldn’t believe he was calling
me
pretty.

“Oh, thanks,” I mumbled before managing to pull myself together. “I, um, have to take care of some things. But maybe a rain check?”

“Sure, I’ll catch you later.” The cute guy walked back into the crowd and I stood frozen for a few minutes. I tried to remind myself that he probably was just fooled by my designer gown, but I still felt giddy.

A quick glance at my watch brought me back to earth. It was only five minutes until Mr. Harrison’s grand entrance. I ran as quickly as I could in my Louboutins and made sure all the performers were in their positions. Finally I nodded to the lighting designer in the corner booth.

The lights around us dimmed and the gentle music stopped. The crowd glanced around as the lights went dark and the chatter died down as everyone focused on the small, glimmering lights in the corners of the ceiling. A gasp went through the crowd as the acrobats in their glittering black leotards came flying across the room on the wood and rope swings that had just been released from the ceiling.

Each acrobat carried a tiny light that illuminated only a little corner of the room. As each acrobat performed her routine, flying, jumping, and twirling with the tiny twinkling lights, I glanced over at the grand staircase.

I saw a tiny flutter and knew it was time. Several things happened in perfect harmony. The acrobats extinguished their respective lights, the music picked up again, but this time it was the popular indie rock band playing their hit song, and the lights turned on, starting with the chandelier over the staircase, which illuminated the lone figure standing on the center landing.

The audience clapped and laughed as Blake Harrison emerged from the darkness in his tailored tux, looking imposing and incredible handsome as he walked purposefully down the stairs and into the throngs of guests.

The entrance was perfect. Elegant, exciting, and mysterious. I felt the same thrill as the guests as Blake Harrison appeared among us. I tried to push my way towards him, but the crowd of people circled tightly around him as soon as he reached the bottom step.

“Are you ready for that dance yet?” I turned to see the attractive boy from earlier.

“Sure. But I’m warning you that I’m not a great dancer,” I replied, licking my lips nervously.

Popular dancing was yet another activity my parents had forbidden. I had danced secretly in my room with headphones on, listening to all my favorite boy bands in high school. But I had never really danced with a boy the way most girls knew how.

“I’m sure you are great, with a body like that.” The boy took my hand and gently pulled me to him, wrapping his other arm around my waist.

I felt the warmth of his body pressed against me and let him guide me as we swayed in time to the beating music. My initial discomfort dissolved as I found the rhythm and moved against the boy’s body. He held me tightly against him, resting his hands on my waist and hips.

“May I cut in?”

The voice caught my attention. I glanced up into Blake Harrison’s flashing green eyes. His angular face held a neutral expression but I could see the darkness in his eyes and he looked down at me.

“Yes, of course,” I breathed, pushing away from the boy who now looked so young and silly compared to Blake Harrison’s imposing, muscular form.

“I’ll, uh, see you later,” the boy said awkwardly as he backed away.

Blake Harrison moved in immediately and took my hand in his.

“Do you like him?” He asked me, his face still unreadable.

“Who, that guy?” I asked with a blush.  “I don’t even know his name. He just asked to dance.”

“I don’t like seeing you with anyone else.” Blake Harrison looked at me with an expression something like a menacing pout.

I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped my mouth. “You don’t really get to be jealous, you know,” I told him. “You are at this party with all these beautiful women. You could have any of them.”