Page 20 of The One Who Got Away

Watching the city zip by, knowing that Lincoln was at the end of the tunnel, made my body rattle with anxious energy. Someone else needed to give me guidance because I didn’t trust the voices inside my head. They were ready to wipe the slate clean. To take a step off the ledge and find out if there was room in my heart, in my life, for second chances. The only other person I trusted for advice that was within reach was Ashton, and I already knew what her answer would be. I wasn’t objective, she wasn’t objective-

Phillip!

Even though he worked for Lincoln so he was Team Carraway, he was more balanced than either of us. And if I was making a terrible mistake, I’d realize the error of my ways really quick and never see him again anyway.

I swept my tongue over my teeth and scooted the sleeves of my blazer to my elbows. It was time to get to it. I knew these streets and the hotel was just a hop, skip, and a jump away.

“Can I ask you a question?”

He nodded, and I knew if it didn’t mean moving his hands from their position at 9 and 3, he would have touched the rim of his invisible cap. “Absolutely, Miss Wilkes.”

“Please, call me Catherine.” I had a feeling he wouldn’t, but I couldn’t help but offer, especially since I was about to put him smack dab in the middle of my business. I shifted in my seat and spit it out. “Do you think there are things that are unforgivable?” I cringed, realizing how stupid that must sound. Of course there were things that were unforgivable. “I mean, do you think that people can be redeemed? That you can forgive someone that did something incredibly hurtful?”

We approached a stoplight and once the car was fully stopped, he gave me his full attention, kind gaze and all. “Personally, I don’t believe in lost causes. But forgiveness is something that only the person who was slighted can give, and that person alone.”

I swore he could see every heart-wrenching detail all over my face, so I thanked him for the advice and pretended I had pressing business to take care of on my cell.

It was up to me, and me alone.

****

“So, what do you think?”

I swiveled toward the mirror and almost brought my hand to my mouth until I remembered that would screw up all her hard work. I shifted my eyes from the stylist, hired by Lincoln of course, to the primped and preened woman in the mirror, then back to the stylist.

Yup. Still in shock.

After I checked in at the hotel and warily took the cushy elevator up to the penthouse suite, I’d opened the doors and was faced with an elegant room that screamed glamour and luxe. The first thing I’d seen, besides a breathtaking view of the lake, was a metallic clothing rack filled with cocktail dresses. Just as I was about to call Lincoln and tell him that it was too much, a jet-black haired, waif thin woman who looked like she belonged on a runway strutted out of the bathroom. After I took a step back toward the door, ready to dash back in the hall or use my briefcase as a weapon, she told me that Lincoln had hired her to be at my beck and call. My wish was her command, like a fairy godmother. I realized I had a choice. I could tumble into this rabbit hole, or I could get off the ride.

So I walked over to the vanity, where she’d turned the space into a pop up salon, sat down in the beauty shop chair, and told her I wanted him to walk in...and forget all about dinner.

When I looked at myself, I forgot all about dinner.

My fingers hovered above my face, vibrating and pulsing in awe.

I’d micromanaged her for the first five minutes before her saccharine sweet voice turned to hard candy and she wheeled me away from the mirror until she was done. To be honest, I’d been worried because her face was so meticulously made up. Don’t get me wrong. Nothing was out of place from the perfectly arched eyebrows to the bold red lip. But that would have looked like a mask on me. Like I was trying too hard. She’d winked when I told her that I was looking for something low key and natural. She’d delivered and then some. My skin glowed from the inside out. From my cheeks to my eyes, I looked like some sun-kissed mermaid, my blue eyes as wild as the sea and the pale pink gloss on my lips as alluring as some hypnotic siren’s song. She’d taken my blonde and brown strands and tousled them just right, the waves cascading around my face.

“Sasha, I look amazing!”

She clapped her hands together with glee. “I’m so glad you like it!” She untied her apron, her smile glittering with excitement. “I’ll let you finish getting ready. I’d tell you to have a good night, but I think that’s kind of inevitable.”

I bit my lip, but my natural blush rivaled the added rosiness in my cheeks. When I was alone, I looked at myself for a few more minutes, then migrated to the rack. My first instinct was to look at the price tags, but I averted my eyes to the fabric instead. Everything felt so beautiful. The indulgent, soft fabrics all seemed perfect when I held them up to my body. I decided on a ebony colored one with a neckline that dipped low in the front and curved down to my behind in the back. When I saw myself in the full-length mirror, heat pinched my cheeks and swelled in my core. It was like dark chocolate had been drizzled all over my body. Like I was good enough to eat.

I ignored the nerves that tumbled in my stomach and glanced at my phone. I still had a few minutes until the time I’d agreed to meet him in the hotel restaurant, but waiting around in the room would just make me more nervous. At least I could get a drink downstairs.

I gathered the train on my dress and glided to the elevator. I smiled at the people who took stock of me in a dress that seemed more appropriate for the Oscars than dinner. When I got to the restaurant, I paused behind a man decked out in all his golfing finery. There was a single staff member at the door and from his pained grin and the golfer’s gruff tone, things weren’t going well.

“What do you mean the entire restaurant has been reserved?”

My eyes bulged.

“I’m sorry, sir. The restaurant will be open to the public for breakfast tomorrow.” The smile never left the host’s lips. “Perhaps the concierge could assist you in finding an alternative?”

The man whirled around in a huff, leered at me for a minute, then stomped in the direction of the lobby.

The host locked eyes on me and some light weaved into his grin. “You must be Miss Wilkes!” He didn’t wait for me to confirm or deny, turning on his heels and opening the heavy oak door.

I’d expected a room awash with light, glittering chandeliers sparkling overhead, but darkness beckoned. I hesitated, then took a breath and powered forward. Candles illuminated the way, but just barely. I could see the shadows of tables and chairs filling a ballroom sized space.

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