Page 6 of Beauty and her Billionaire Beast
3
Isabelle
I’m not sure why I agreed to come to this engagement party. It feels like a bad call now, and painfully obvious that I’m probably the only person who attended such an elegant event without a plus one. The bride-to-be is a new friend, someone I only met a few months ago through my mother’s nonprofitfoundation, but my parents know her family through their respective circles. We hit it off so well that when she invited me to her engagement party, I had to say yes. Something also told me it would be a nice change from the everyday, getting out of the house, spending time rubbing shoulders with New York City’s wealthiest families in a decadently formal ballroom that’s decorated in ornatefinishes andaccents.
Not that those things have ever mattered to me. They haven’t. But it’s a welcome change from the everyday, especially considering that my day to day routine involves keeping myself cooped up indoors for months and months at a time, other than going to work five days aweek.
At least I thought it was a welcome change. Getting out of the house and meeting newpeople outside of work sounded good at the time, but since I walked in through these impressive ballroom doors, I haven’t found anyone I know personally. But maybe I’m wrong. I’m still hoping that if I could just find one friendly face, this night out won’t be a completewaste.
Although, with every passing minute, I feel less and less interested in beinghere.
What I should’ve donewas find an excuse to turn her down nicely. Other than the bride-to be, I don’t personally know a soul here. I checked and double checked. Sure, there are one or two familiar faces around. Most of them are contributors to Mom’s nonprofit. A couple are backers of my father, the Senator of this fine state. None of them are what I’d call wingperson-worthy. Except for the bride-to-be, and of courseshe’s surrounded by hundreds of guests all wanting to wish her well for her engagement to her fiancé. And rightly so. This party is forher.
Aware that the next hour or so will be incredibly awkward, I busy myself with ordering a drink. Then another. And a third and a fourth. The least I can do is get a buzz going with all this free top shelf booze before I head out for a cab home. Thatfourth drink does me in, though. I’m right at the point where my haziness can quickly turn to nausea, lowered inhibitions and bad, baddecisions.
Thankfully, I have just enough of my faculties to decide I’ll put a timeframe on my exit before I do anything I might regret. Having a politician as a parent has always meant that I have to mind my manners and keep a tight rein on what I do andsay when people are around. Which is why I’ve become such a homebody. There’s no point tempting fate by allowing myself to be in the public eye, with my actions placed under a microscope the second I step outside myhome.
As I wander through the thick crowd, counting down the time I’ll hang around before making my getaway, I’m acutely aware of myself. Shyness is my default setting, so beinghere alone only makes it worse. It took years of working on myself to break through my comfort zone when I agreed to take such a client-oriented job with my mother. Personally, I’d prefer to be hiding out in a back room reading. If I could do that for a living, I would. I like beingalone.
But right now, all the effort to step outside my shell seems wasted. The shy little girl I used tobe starts to push through to the forefront all of a sudden. I awkwardly drop my arms to my sides, unsure what to do with my hands, how to stand, and find myself looking away whenever anyone makes eye contact. The more I think about how weird this all feels, the harder it becomes to actnatural.
When I’m halfway through my allotted time to stick around, I throw in the towel. It’s pointlessbeing here. I decide to have one last drink, say a few words to the happy bride-to-be so she knows I honored my promise to show up, then I can leave. Maybe it isn’t the best attitude to have at a party, but then again, I’ve never been one for socializing at the best of times, so no amount of time, pasted-on smiles, or alcohol will help me get any closer to enjoying thisevent.
Knowthyself.
That should have been my mantra before I stepped into these basic four-inch pumps, threw on this red, sparkly knee-length cocktail dress that Mom bought me, and applied a bit of barely there makeup before coming out. Even at college, letting loose wasn’t something I did. I kept my head down and worked hard because it was easier than facing the discomfort of getting to know new people.Of course, it paid off when I graduated with honors, so it’s not all bad. Mind you, I’m still figuring out what I want to do with said education. Somewhere between burying myself in text books and avoiding people, I forgot to firm up my life plan along the way. But working at my mother’s nonprofit is enough of a challenge, and reasonably rewarding. It’s okay fornow.
All of a sudden, aweird prickle starts to crawl up my back to the base of my neck as I head to the bar near the front entrance of the massive ballroom. The hairs there stand on end. Goosebumps run up and down my arms. I have the sudden overwhelming sensation that someone in the crowd is watching me. It could be my imagination but the feeling is so intense I start to look around, needing to know who it is if I’mright.
As I make a half turn, a strange excitement comes over me. It’s as if my body is already expecting something epic and monumental to happen. And my weird one-time premonition is immediately confirmed the moment I find myself tumbling into the brilliant blue gaze that can only come from one face. A face I haven’t seen in a long time, and quite frankly one I never expected to lay eyeson everagain.
Especially not up close likethis.
KnoxSteele.
My heart pounds with a bit of fear, a smidgen of elation, and more anticipation than I thought possible. Knox is a blast from the past. He was my childhood best friend, someone I trusted with all my secrets, and the guy I always thought would be in my life so we could be there for eachother.
Until he leftforcollege.
We went from everything to nothing in five seconds flat. It still hurts that he’s not been in my life. And I still don’t know why. From where I was standing, nothing had ended on bad terms, and we didn’t have any bad blood between us. But he cut all ties with me and I never could figure out what I did to cause it. During the first couple of years, I assumed I must have slippedup somehow. Later on, I came to terms with the idea that he outgrew our friendship. Which was tragic for me because I have very few friends. I forced myself to move on. Forced myself to let himgo.
And here he is, standing in front of me with what are now sinfully sexy eyes full of broody darkness, that hard, sharp yet handsome face with the scar that adds a heaping dose of mystery anddanger to him, and this broad, chiseled, muscular body that ripples with every movement under his tux. How is he here at this event? I thought I’d seen everyone but clearly, I missed one. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to bump intohere.
“Isabelle.” Knox knits together his eyebrows as though just seeing my face is confusing to him. That’s fair, because I feel the exact same wayabout finding him here. “It’s been…a while. I almost can’t believe it’syou.”
My body’s fight-or-flight response is on overdrive. My legs desperately want to turn and run at a million miles an hour, and my fingertips tingle with an unbelievable urge to either slap him in the face or punch him hard in the jaw. But my limbs have gone numb. I can’tmove.
“Knox,” I eventually reply,and hear my surprise dripping off my tongue. “Same here. It’s been, wellyears.”
“It has,” he says quietly. Knox cocks his head to one side as he examines me closely, inspecting me from head to toe, snaking his gaze down my body so slowly that it may as well be his hands. It feels all kinds of wrong because he’s never looked at me this way. I can almost feel his eyes as it meets every inchofme.
“How have you been?” I ask, hoping to direct his eyes back to my face so I can regain the use of mylimbs.
“Good. We should catch up soon, if you’dlike.”
My eyes narrow. Catch up? I don’t want to catch up. I want to confront him. I want to know why he threw out our friendship like it was yesterday’s trash. I want to hurt him like he hurt me back then when he left withouta goodbye and cut me out of his life. I want his heart to hurt, to burn, to crumble, to break into a million pieces with no chance of ever being whole again. Like mineis.
But more than anything, as much as I hate to admit it, I miss him. I miss us. Desperately. I want what we used to have. I want my best friend back. Sure, he was an animal. A cruel beast. But he was mybeast.
