pas.
They all deserved it.
She didn’t doubt that each and every one of them would look down their fake noses at her if they knew who she was and what she’d been to their precious Harrison. He kept her tucked away at home in Paris like some dirty little secret.
Nora suppressed a bitter laugh. No, she didn’t plan on remaining a secret much longer. As for being little...well, her bump would tell its own tale in time.
A waiter walked past bearing a tray of the golden caviar Nora had only read about in Marie Claire and on Billionaire.com. Since her arrival at the reception, dozens of trays of the stuff had been carted around as if it cost nothing, except she knew the true cost of the world’s most expensive caviar. These people treated it like nothing when one mouthful could pay her rent for a month! Not that she’d ever paid rent. Since she’d turned sixteen, her many lovers always cared for her. And Harrison was no different. Until he walked out a few months ago, leaving her future uncertain...
She flicked her hand out to stop the waiter as he would’ve walked past her. For an instant he looked startled to see her standing there, in the shadows beside the delicate cake tree bearing three hundred cupcakes frosted with edible twenty-four-carat-gold leaf.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you there,” he blurted, confirming her suspicions.
She waved his apology away, took her time to spoon a heap of the expensive gold onto a delicate cracker, then flicked her hand in dismissal.
As he hurried away, she turned back to observe her quarry, musing on how best to strike for maximum effect and maximum gain. With a smile, she placed the cracker on her tongue, let the flavor of success suffuse her senses.
Her hand dropped to rub her bump. “Very soon, mon cher enfant, this will become our daily staple.”
* * *
Vanessa smiled as the band struck up a more up-tempo beat. The waltzes and slow smooch songs were fine for a bit, but while she’d thoroughly enjoyed the Cinderella dreaminess of it, the dancer in her preferred music that heated her blood and spoke to her soul. Even in this dress that cost more than she would earn in a year, even feeling as she did today—like a fairy-tale princess granted one night’s reprieve from drudgery—she couldn’t deny who she was. Or what she was.
Tomorrow would come soon enough, and with it the uniform that announced to whomever she came into contact with just what her role was within the esteemed Marshall household.
But right here, right now, she could pretend she was one of these people.
You are one of them.
She smothered the voice inside her head and smiled wider at her dapperly dressed dance partner.
“Thanks for agreeing to come with me. I’m sorry for the short notice.”
Her date, Bernard Atwater, raised his eyebrows. “Are you kidding? This is one of those times when I’m not ashamed to admit I don’t mind coming second on your list. Although I was a little surprised to hear from you. What happened to your date, anyway? Did she bail on you at the last minute?”
She laughed. “Yes. Her loss is your gain.” Joy had decided at the last minute not to come, preferring to stay back at Casa de Catalina and defy Mariella’s strong hint that she wanted all her staff to be here.
Vanessa got the feeling her absence wouldn’t go down well. One of the mounting set of negative marks the disgruntled chef was accumulating. Fireworks were brewing between her friend and her employer, and Vanessa, for one, wasn’t looking forward to the eruption.
She caught the smitten look in Bernard’s eyes. “You look sensational.” His gaze dropped to subtly brush her cleavage on the way down her body.
She tried to fight the blush that rose in her cheeks and failed miserably. The dress Mariella had lent her fit like a dream. Her jaw had dropped when she’d spotted the label. And she hated to be superficial, but God, the dress made her feel like a million bucks. Finally she was beginning to get why these filthy-rich people looked like they were walking on air all the time. Money certainly gave one a cushion against most things. Not everything, though...
“Thanks. But you don’t need to say things like that,” she murmured.
Bernard smiled. “Why not? It’s true.” He leaned closer. “I know I’m supposed to say the bride is the most beautiful woman in the room, but to be honest, you beat her hands down.”
Vanessa shook her head as she laughed. “Seriously, stop it.” She couldn’t let it go to her head.
Just like she couldn’t let this thing between her and Luc continue.
As if she’d conjured him straight from her imagination, he crossed her line of vision with his woman on his arm. Tall, broad shouldered, suave and elegant, he carried that inherent sophistication all the Marshalls seemed to have been born with so effortlessly, it was almost impossible to overlook him. The laughter dried in her throat, and her whole body stiffened before she could stop the reaction.
“Hey, what’s the matter? Did what I said offend you?” Bernard’s gaze held a touch of contrition.
She hurried to reassure him. “No, not at all. I just...there’s someone here that... I’m trying not to bump into someone and...” She stammered to a halt and hid a grimace.
“Someone like...an ex-boyfriend?” he inquired. His voice was light, but the question in his eyes was serious.
Her heart lurched. She and Luc Marshall could never have a relationship like that. Not that he seemed prepared to take the hint. Even now she could feel his gaze on her. She’d felt the sensation on and off throughout the day. “No. But he’s determined to be...something.” How could she elaborate without giving away her secret?
Bernard frowned. “You’re my date.”
“Yes.”
“Is he watching you?” Bernard pressed.
The question threw her for a moment. “Um...yes. Why do you ask that?”
His grin reappeared along with a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Well...do you want to send a clear message that we’re together?” he probed as she continued to stare at him.
Her eyes widened, her mind darting in several random directions. Did she? What if she pissed Luc off enough to jeopardize her position at the Marshall household? Her job meant everything to her. She didn’t want to lose it. “Uh... I don’t think...”
“Relax. I’m not suggesting anything risqué. And the last thing I want to do is embarrass you, but I really want to kiss you again.” He leaned forward, and his soft lips were on hers.
Dios mío! He was a good kisser. They’d gone out several times after striking up a conversation over the past six months when he’d started delivering the exclusive brand of bottled water the Marshalls preferred to have on hand at Casa Cat.
Finally coming up for air, Bernard asked, “Do you trust me?”
“Sure,” she answered, slightly breathless.
He laughed. “You could sound a little more convincing, but...look, just go with the flow, okay?”
Vanessa wondered if she wasn’t risking jumping from the frying pan straight into the fire. Before she could make up her mind one way or the other, Bernard dragged her closer, clamped his hand on her hip and began to move to the unmistakable rhythm of a tango.
It was the last thing she’d expected. So much so, her mouth dropped open for an inelegant second before her ingrained rhythm kicked into place. Another second later, she was moving with him and they were flowing together as if they’d been practicing for years.
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