Page 33 of Confusing Cade
I exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Thank God. I was up half the night obsessing over it.”
“I figured. Which brings me to the other reason I called.” He paused, his voice shifting to something lighter. “I got an email a few moments ago from Commissioner Frances Fisher. Looks like the Palm Beach Historic Preservation Fund is hosting a donor dinner this evening, and she’d like us to attend so she can talk about some ways the Promenade will improve tourism in the region and bring more visitors to some of the historical landmarks.”
“A dinner? Tonight?” My stomach twisted again, this time with hesitation. The last thing I wanted was to face a room full of people who might have seen... everything. “Cade, I don’t know. After what happened, I’m not sure I can handle being out there.”
“It’ll take your mind off things,” he said gently. “A distraction, something normal. And trust me, these Palm Beach types are too snobby and refined to mention anything about an internet doxing.”
I bit my lip, clutching the phone tighter, his words battling the shame gnawing at me. Could I really step back into that glittering world without whispers chasing me? “You really think so?”
“They’d sooner discuss the weather or their latest yacht purchase than admit they’ve been scrolling through scandalous leaks online,” he assured, his tone steady, coaxing. “It’ll be fine. Boring, even, in the best way.”
I exhaled into the receiver, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction as his confidence seeped through the line. “I hope so.”
“I know so. Come with me. Let’s just... breathe for a night.”
Cade had a point; I had to admit it. My thoughts had been spiraling all day, tangled up in the hack and its fallout. A room full of pretentious strangers, their chatter drowning out my ownworries, might not be the worst thing. It could be a temporary escape, a chance to breathe. But my gut still churned with doubt.
“I’m not sure I can pull of beingnormalat some fancy party,” I said.
“You sound like you need more convincing,” Cade said, his tone teasing but with a knowing edge, like he was onto me.
“I do.”
Cade didn’t miss a beat. “Frances Fisher will be there, you know. Loves her caviar, that one. I’m talking the good stuff—black pearl, top-shelf, melt-in-your-mouth caviar. Bet she’ll have mountains of it at this party.” His voice was smooth now, each word dripping with temptation, like he knew exactly which buttons to push.
I licked my lips involuntarily, the memory of caviar flooding back. Briny. Rich. And rare. Caviar was a treat during childhood summers at my grandmother’s, when we’d sneak spoonfuls from her fancy tins. It had been years since I’d tasted it, and the thought made my stomach rumble. My resolve wavered. I wandered to my closet, my feet moving almost on their own, and yanked open the bifold doors. The hangers clinked as I rifled through, already picturing myself at this ridiculous party, a plate of caviar in hand.God, if I go to this thing, here’s hoping no one recognizes me.
“What would I need to wear?” I asked, hoping I sounded casual, and like I hadn’t just caved.
“Now we’re talking.” Cade’s voice warmed, a grin practically audible through the phone. “It starts at seven. I’m sure whatever you wear, you’ll knock ’em dead.”
“I honestly doubt I have anything,” I replied as I sorted through the various pieces of clothing on the hangers. Some ancient black pants from a previous job selling cruises over the phone, a jacket I used once in an interview, a sundress or two,and a blue gown I last wore six years ago. I took it off the pole. “Oh, actually, I might have something.”
“Good.”
He sounded happy, excited even, and we hammered out the details before he ended the call. Once we did, I stripped off my robe and slipped into the blue dress. At least it still zipped up with no issues, even though I was sure I weighed more than I had when I bought it. Smoothing the fabric across my stomach, I walked to the mirror.
The dress style was a little dated, maybe even a lot. It was too much of a throwback to the early aughts, and not in a good way.
Except, what else am I going to wear?The gown for the charity fundraiser also hung in the closet, but I didn’t want to wear it again. Cade might remember it, and worse, so might some of the other people at the event. This was Palm Beach, after all, and some women wore a new dress every night during the winter season as they attended endless parties, galas, and fashion shows.
I had to keep up.
I crossed the room to my dresser and fished out my jewelry box. I rifled through it, sorting earrings and necklaces until I found a combination I thought worked with the neckline of the dress.
Maybe this won’t be such a big mistake. Maybe.
After deciding on the jewelry, I started getting ready. It was already after four, and while Cade had said he’d come by my apartment around a quarter to seven, those two hours would pass quickly once I started getting ready. I pulled my clean hair into an updo on top of my head, painted makeup on my face, and was putting the finishing touches on my look when Cade texted that he’d arrived in the parking lot of my apartment.
I gave myself one more glance, took a deep breath, and walked out the front door. He was outside the car already, and he jogged to the front walk as I locked the deadbolt behind me.
“You look... beautiful.” He wore a fine-cut tuxedo and a pair of blue velvet loafers. He smelled like sandalwood.
He looks like he stepped out of a magazine.
Cade’s hair was impeccably styled, each wave or sleek line catching the light like it’d been sculpted by a professional for a magazine cover shoot. His outfit was a work of art, and he wore a tailored jacket that hugged his shoulders, paired with trousers that tapered down to his shoes. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, his skin glowing with an unreal, almost retouched smoothness.
“You look good too,” I said, fumbling my keys into my cheap satin purse, feeling the contrast between us. His eyes flicked over me, and he grinned. “So, you think this dress works?” I asked, smoothing it around my hips with my free hand.
