Elena
“That dress looks fabulous on you,” Jorie exclaims as she claps her hands.
Examining myself in the full-length mirror in Jorie’s master bathroom, I have to agree. I look stunning. It’s an off-the-shoulder, A-line cocktail dress in a pinkish-gold with a paint-splatter design in black along the hem. Far more elegant than anything I have ever owned or could afford. Luckily, my bestie is married to a man who needs a fashionably attired woman on his arm, so her wardrobe is brimming with beautiful dresses, and oh… we wear the same size.
When I told Jorie I’d been invited to a charity gala “by a man I’d met online” and needed her help, she was beyond excited. She is so brimming with happiness over her own newfound love she wants the same for me. Wants me to find my own personal happiness, get married, and have babies we can raise together. Any time there’s a whiff I might have a date or an interest in a man, she gets over-excited.
Which is why I still haven’t told her about Benjamin, which is obviously weighing heavily on my conscience. More so because Jorie is indeed pregnant. After letting her husband in on the secret, I was the one and only other person she shared the information with. She had told me there was no way she was going to wait until the end of her first trimester like many people do before letting her best friend in on the singularly most happy event of her life.
And yet, I still can’t bring myself to tell her about the mysterious man who I have had two mind-blowing, carnal experiences with. Part of me is afraid I am going to jinx it with him if I let anyone in on this. I simply can’t let myself give credence to something so powerful—that could potentially have the power to change me in a fundamental way. Until I can get a handle on exactly what this is, I have resolved to tread carefully and quietly.
I let Jorie put some finishing touches on my makeup while she chatters on about being pregnant. She has an appointment with her obstetrician next week for a formal pregnancy test, so she can get started on her prenatal care.
When she finishes my makeup, fluffs my hair once more, and pronounces me sufficiently beautiful, we leave the master suite to find Walsh waiting in the living room.
Offering his arm to me, he says in an over-exaggerated British accent, “Let me escort you downstairs, milady.”
Rolling my eyes, I laugh, but loop my arm through his all the same. Jorie links arms with me on the other side, and we make our way down the private elevator, through the lobby, and out the doors to the Vegas strip.
Walsh keeps walking, though, and heads straight toward a black limo parked in front.
I stop dead in my tracks as I stare at the limo driver who opens the door.
“What is this?” I ask.
“I’m giving you my limo for the evening,” Walsh says. “So get in the damn chariot.”
“But it’s only a few blocks down to The Presario,” I say, trying to protest his generosity.
Jorie steps in front of me, then gives me a hard hug. “Get in the damn limo. Walsh is feeling overly generous because he’s so happy to become a daddy.”
I pull away from Jorie and turn to Walsh, going on to my tiptoes to give him a kiss on his cheek. “You’re a prince. Thank you.”
“Don’t I know it,” he replies with a wink before helping me into the car.
It only takes a few moments to drive the two blocks down the strip to The Presario, one of the newer casinos, where the gala is being held. I see Benjamin waiting for me in front. He looks amazing in a tuxedo, his cane planted dead center and making him appear even more regal and sophisticated as he scans the block for me. I had told him I would be getting ready at The Royale, and he expects me to be on foot for the short walk.
His eyes sweep out to the limo, then back down the block before returning to the limo as the door opens and I alight. His eyes flare with surprise, then he’s moving toward me, the cane tapping on the sidewalk. It’s an incredibly warm June evening, yet he looks dashingly cool and collected.
“Elena,” he says in greeting as he offers me his arm. “That dress is stunning.”
I flush with pleasure from the compliment. “It’s Jorie’s,” I admit. “I can’t afford the type of attire needed to attend these things. Luckily, we’re the same size.”
“Somehow, I don’t think it would look as good on her,” he says, paying me another gentlemanly compliment.
Again, it feels nice to have his acknowledgment. Still, I’d much rather have his grunts and groans, which speak more than his words. I fear I might have misplaced my priorities, but it’s the truth.
Benjamin leads me into the casino, and we head toward the bank of elevators that will lead up to the event ballroom.
“So what is this event?” I ask.
“It’s a fundraiser for the children’s hospital,” he replies.
“Do you come to a lot of these?”
We reach the elevators and he stabs at the button with his finger. “Not lately. Don’t seem to have the patience for them anymore.”
“So why are you attending this one?”
He grimaces. “Let’s just say I owe a favor to my partner. And thank you for being my date.”
I give him a wink and a lopsided smile. “Let’s be honest… it was the prospect of going to The Wicked Horse with you afterward that made me agree.”
His eyes round in surprise, his lips curving upward. “Really?”
“Really,” I say with a firm nod of my head. “Why does that surprise you?”
He shrugs just as the elevator doors open. He ushers me in, and we move to the back as a handful of other people enter. He sidles in closer as the doors close and we start to ascend.
Leaning down, Benjamin murmurs, “Most single women just aren’t into sex like that.”
There’s truth in his words. Most of the women at The Wicked Horse are in committed relationships. There is a lot of swinging that goes on with their partners. I have seen very few single women go there just for sex. On top of that, it’s sad to say very few women can afford the fee.
I tilt my head up. He leans a little bit closer to me so I can whisper, “Let’s just say I have found being involved in a committed relationship to be… un-empowering.”
We reach our floor, and the elevator doors open. Benjamin moves me through the crowd, and we exit. I put my arm through his, and we head down the hallway to the ballroom where we can see people mingling.
“And yet,” he says as we stroll along. “You give up all control to me. That doesn’t seem empowering.”
My laugh is husky, delighted. “On the contrary, giving up control is the height of empowerment for me. Knowing I’ve got the courage to do that, I mean.”
Benjamin halts, and so do I. He turns, eyes quizzical. “You continually surprise me.”
“Is that a good thing?” I ask.
He inclines his head. “It’s an incredibly good thing. It’s what I need.”
Benjamin takes my hand in his, and we head into the ballroom. The soft strains of a waltz hit my ears and the smells of delicious food assault my nose, making my belly rumble. Benjamin nods toward a group of people and says, “Come on. I see Dr. Metzer there. He’s the one putting on this gala. I need to say hello.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We maneuver our way over to the group. The surprised expressions on people’s faces when they see Benjamin proves him showing up is unexpected. I guess it truly is unusual for him to attend these types of events.
I’m introduced to a portly older man—Dr. Metzer—who gives me a polite nod. Benjamin next introduces me to a very handsome man and his wife, Brandon and Colleen Aimes.
“Brandon is my medical partner,” Benjamin explains as we shake hands.
Brandon and Colleen look stunned to see me, and I wonder why. Does Benjamin not date at all? Is he gay? What if he has a wife… and I’m just a side piece he’s brazenly parading around?
Those questions are all answered when Colleen seems to come to her senses and gushes, “It is so nice to meet you, Elena. It’s nice to see Benjamin getting out for a change.”
That puts me at ease, and I’m thankful it seems like I’ll have someone else to talk to tonight.
“So, Elena,” Brandon says. “What do you do?”
“I’m a hair stylist,” I say, expecting a little bit of disdain over my lower-class status.
Instead, Colleen pipes up, “Here in Vegas? Because I’m looking for a change.”
She pats her perfectly styled bob, tilting her head expectantly.
“In Henderson,” I reply. “I actually own my own place there, but if you don’t mind making the drive, I’d love to work with you.”
“I can totally come to you,” she chirps with excitement. “So how did you and Benjamin meet?”
I wasn’t expecting this question. In hindsight, it was stupid not to expect it. I freeze, shooting a questioning look at Benjamin, who just stares back impassively, willing to accept whatever answer I give.
“An online dating service,” I say as I turn back to Colleen.
She nods exuberantly. “That’s all the rage these days, right? Swipe right. Or is it left? Regardless, I’m just thrilled Benjamin’s out and about tonight. Oh, we should go get a table so we can sit together for when the auction starts.”
“Why don’t you grab us some seats?” Benjamin suggests to Colleen as he takes my elbow, making his intent to lead me away clear. “We’re going to peruse the art pieces up for auction and grab a drink. Want anything?”
“We’re good,” Brandon says.
Benjamin takes it as an exit cue to lead me away. “Sorry about that,” he murmurs as we meander through the crowd. “Didn’t think to come up with a story about how we’d met.”
“Well, what I said was sort of true.”
He stops, turning to face me with a serious expression. “Look… I had thought I’d get you a room here tonight, so you don’t have to drive all the way back to Henderson.”
I look up at him, startled, the change of subject unexpected. “That’s sweet, but unnecessary. I can stay at Jorie and Walsh’s.”
Benjamin looks slightly abashed as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key card. “Well, I sort of already got the room.”
“Oh,” I say, flushing deeply at the realization there is a room and a bed within close proximity to us. “What about The Wicked Horse?”
“I thought perhaps we’d just stay here. For convenience.”
While The Wicked Horse provides all kinds of temptation and takes debauchery to the next level, the thought of perhaps spending an entire night with Benjamin is intriguing.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask.
His eyes flash. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“We go to the room right now. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay here and socialize.”
Benjamin’s lips curve in a sexy grin full of promise. “Let’s go.”
For someone who uses a cane to walk, Benjamin moves with surprising grace and efficiency as he leads me from the ballroom. A few people nod in greeting as he passes by, but he’s moving with such purpose there’s no doubt he doesn’t intend to stop and engage.
I let him lead all the way to the seventeenth floor.