Dinner Party

[AVA]

"Seriously, Mom? Can you please stop?" I groaned, feeling exasperated yet again. However, her relentless attempts to tame my unruly frizzy hair made me push her hands away and step back.

"What's the matter?" she snapped, trying to keep her voice low but clearly irritated. "I'm just trying to help you. What's wrong with that?" She rolled her eyes and shook her head as if she had reached her limit with my childish behavior. "Tonight is a big opportunity for you. What did you do with the money I gave you to go to the salon and get ready? Don't tell me you wasted it on books or other academic stuff," she huffed. "Didn't I emphasize how important this party is, Ava? Why don't you listen to me anymore?"

I let out a frustrated sigh.

In simple terms, my mother was trying to set me up with a wealthy guy so that our lives could become a little less miserable, at least temporarily. While I tried to understand her desperation, considering our difficult circumstances, it didn't mean I could accept her going to such lengths to basically sell off her own child. It was a repulsive act, regardless of social class.

With another heavy breath, I ran a hand through my hair, pushing the wild curls away from my face. "I'm going to get myself a drink. There's no way I can deal with this situation while staying sober."

"Ava!" Mom scolded me and grabbed my wrist before I could reach the liquor station. "You can't miss this opportunity."

"I just want a damn drink. Relax!" I didn't mean to be rude, but she was really pushing my patience to the limit tonight.

For the past thirty minutes, she had been incessantly trying to introduce me to the supposed cream of the crop in the city. They all turned out to be the same: arrogant jerks who couldn't handle a speck of imperfection.

But that wasn't the issue. I didn't mind meeting new people; in fact, I was quite adept at socializing. The problem lay in the overwhelming judgment in their eyes. Perhaps Mom was oblivious to it, but our family had lost respect and credibility in society since we went bankrupt a year and a half ago. We didn't just lose our business, assets, and wealth; we also lost friends, relatives, and well-wishers. It was too much for her to bear. That's why I said I understood her desperation, and I truly did. If only she wasn't trying to use me as a pawn for her own purposes.

I made my way to the counter, maneuvering through the mingling guests. I ordered a glass of red wine while scanning the expansive area for any familiar faces.

The Johnsons were hosting the dinner party to celebrate their daughter's sixteenth birthday. The party venue was immense and sophisticated, as one would expect from a family of their stature, with flawless decorations. Flowers, balloons, and confetti were cascading from above like snowflakes.

If our circumstances hadn't been so dire, this type of gathering would have appealed to me. But now, everything felt fake and unnecessary as the harsh reality chased me like a relentless ghost.

"Funny seeing you here, Monroe," someone sneered. "From princess to pauper. How's life treating you these days?" She smiled, and I fought the urge to vomit on the spot.

Before I turned around to confront the ultimate bitch, Coraline Edwards, I rolled my eyes and silently cursed my terrible luck. We used to be friends, but after Valerie's death and my family's financial collapse, our once-adorable trio of friends fell apart.

Coraline's animosity toward me remained a mystery that I wanted to unravel, but I couldn't find the right time. There were too many things happening, significant changes in every aspect of my life. It was difficult to focus on anything else. And after much contemplation, I convinced myself that it wasn't worth it in the end.

"It's been an eye-opening experience," I replied, mustering a small, gentle smile of my own. "I've learned a lot."

"Oh, really?" Coraline scoffed.

"Yeah. For instance, a true friend is the one who stands by you in times of need. And those who run away at the first sign of trouble? They're your worst enemies. How about that?"

Coraline dropped the grin—the act—and scowled at me. “You think you’re so much better, Monroe, don’t you?”

"I never claimed to be, but I'll take that as a compliment," I replied, trying to sound genuinely appreciative. If only to further irritate her.

She bristled, her thin eyebrows furrowing. "Acting cool will only get you so far. Be careful, Monroe. People won't always be kind to your sorry ass."

"Aw, I'm truly impressed by how much you still care about me," I pouted, placing my hand over my heart. "But really, I can take care of myself. You can relax."

Her glare intensified, and she stormed past me, not uttering another word. But not before purposefully bumping into my shoulder and "accidentally" spilling her own wine on me.

"Oops! Sorry," she said, disappearing into the crowd with a mischievous wink.

Finally, I allowed myself to frown. I grabbed some paper towels from the counter and attempted to clean up the mess she had caused. "Bitch!"

"Excuse me?"

My spine froze, and my heart skipped a beat upon hearing his deep voice.

No. My luck couldn't be that terrible. Was he actually here?

It had been over a week since that unforgettable night. I couldn't stop replaying it in my mind. The sensation of his strong hands on my body, the warmth and deliciousness of his lips against mine, the way he filled me completely and then some.

Damn it.

I needed to stay composed. He had no clue that the escort he hired that night was actually me. There was no reason for him to know. Firstly, because the agency I worked for had a reputation for its discretion, and secondly, why would he suspect anything? It was just a one-night arrangement. We both got what we wanted. He had my company, and I received payment. It was a mutually beneficial transaction.

So why did I feel a tinge of sadness that he hadn't reached out again? Was I not good enough? Did he seek another escort because I couldn't satisfy him? Usually, clients came back for more. Why didn't he?

No. I shouldn't entertain such thoughts. Why am I even considering them?

I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and summoned my well-practiced smile. I only needed to lift my gaze, and there he was. Towering over me with his impressive height and chiseled muscles.

Brian Reinhold was a sight so stunning that it pained my eyes. His thick, dark hair looked even silkier than it had felt beneath my fingertips that night. His penetrating grey eyes seemed to contemplate the mysteries of the oceans and the universe with serene curiosity. Whether he wore a fitted three-piece suit or not, he exuded an undeniable charm. It was hard to believe someone his age could be so attractive. Granted, he was at least five years younger than my father, but the fact that he once had a daughter my age didn't make much of a difference from a purely physical perspective.

But I really needed to stop indulging in these inappropriate thoughts about him. It was wrong. So, so wrong. It was wrong. Valerie would have been furious if she had known. Then again, maybe things would have been different if she were still here. Who could say?

"You're Dean's daughter, aren't you?" he said, tilting his head slightly to the right, holding a glass of white wine.

"You remember me?" I asked, realizing how foolish that question was. Valerie and I were practically raised as sisters. Despite being the President of a multi-billion dollar corporation, he always made time for our gatherings and activities. He had even been there on the day of the accident. It was shortly after he dropped Valerie off at the bus stop for our summer camp...

"Of course, you're all grown up now," he said effortlessly, his voice carrying a hint of harshness and emotional weight that I couldn't help but notice. There was a longing, an empty void that no one could fill except Valerie. He was likely contemplating how much she would have grown if she hadn't been stubborn about attending that camp event. He probably despised the word "camp" now. And I couldn't blame him. I despised it too.

A blush crept across my cheeks, betraying my embarrassment, as I attempted to tame a rebellious curl that fell across my face. "Thank you, Mr. Reinhold," I murmured sheepishly.

For a fleeting moment, something seemed to flicker in his eyes before vanishing. It was probably just my imagination.

"Sure, good to see you. Where's your father? I can't seem to find him," he inquired.

"He wasn't... feeling very well," I replied, knowing full well that my father was seething with anger over my mother accepting the invitation. Even after losing everything we had, his pride remained unyielding.

"Oh!" he responded, his tone turning stern as he tucked his free hand into his pocket. "Well, all right then. See you around. Enjoy yourself."

And just like that, he was gone, mingling with other men and women of his age, laughing and engaging in lively conversations. While he seemed to be having a great time, I was still reeling from our brief interaction. Almost oblivious to the world around me, I nearly missed the vibration of my phone in my pocket, signaling an incoming text.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen in sheer horror.

I had completely forgotten about the job I had promised to do tonight.

Shit. I was running late.