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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DO NOT RIP THE VERSACE DRESS!!!!

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Lucas

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Barely a few hours of sleep after finishing his revised letter to Bella and Lucas woke to a string of texts pinging his phone. Lucas rubbed his eyes and attempted to blink the blurriness away. Annoyingly, it wouldn't go away. Finally, Lucas realized he had slept in his contacts.

Once in his glasses, he squinted at texts; each became bolder, more emojis and pleading for Lucas to 'get his ass to B's place.' Another dropped down from the top of his phone while he read.

Alicia: Seriously, dude! 911! Get over here!

Lucas went in search of Chris and answers, except Chris wasn't in his condo or answering his phone. Whatever had happened, Lucas was moving sluggish enough that he needed coffee before attempting to intervene in matters of Bella, no matter what the emergency was. Nothing too terrible could have happened if no one had mentioned the police.

Once dressed in his regular work attire, black slacks and white oxford, Lucas pulled out a Christmas tree tie Bella's father gifted Lucas the year before his passing. He slung the tie around his neck without tying, then stashed the new letter for Bella in his jacket pocket. Lucas was ready to tackle whatever the emergency was once he filled a thermos with enough coffee to start a small side business.

Finding a parking spot near Bella's apartment took longer than the drive, but finally, he was at her door and digging out his key. A wild string of profanities came through the door.

“Bells? Why am I getting 911 texts from you and ‘Licia...” Lucas jammed his shoulder into the door and crashed into a rack of dresses covered in bags.

Alicia spared no time in digging into him. “Because it’s a God damn emergency! That’s why!”

Lucas used one finger and pushed a dress along the rack until he saw the label on the next. Oscar de la Renta. Promptly, he pulled his hand away and backed into Bella’s kitchen, dropping the thermos of coffee safely away from dresses worth months of salary.

“What is going on?”

From her bedroom, Bella shouted loud enough to startle her brother out of the room. "What in the ever-loving fuck is this shit?"

“Bella! Do not rip the Versace! Do not!" Alicia rounded the rack, advancing on Lucas. "Lina fucking found out Preston asked B to the Astor Gala, and she cornered Bella last night when we were cleaning the clinic!"

Lucas’ body went numb. Bella hadn’t answered his last text, leaving it on read all night. He assumed she didn’t know what to say. That this was the perfect time to give her the letter.

It was not.

“Lina never steps foot in the clinic,” he said.

“She stepped more than a foot in the clinic last night,” Alicia continued, hardly audible over Bella’s next rant.

“Shit.” Which felt like an understatement to end all understatements.

“We cannot keep her calm. She’s going to destroy those dresses. And her mother expects her at the gala on Preston’s damn arm! All lovey-fucking-dovey!”

“I’m with Alicia. Get your ass in there.” Chris slapped a few dresses to the side. He yanked one off the rack in a black plastic bag and held it out for Lucas to take in with him. “We’ve tried everything, and it’s not working.”

“Save us, Lucas.” Alicia deadpanned the famous line. “You’re our only hope.”

Declining the dress, Lucas stepped into Bella's bedroom doorway. A simple full bed, dresser, and nightstand, all in matching dark black wood, offset with vibrant blue and green sheets. Folded on the foot of the bed was the second t-shirt blanket Bella made from Lucas' old high school t-shirts. In the corner, between the dresser and a tall window, Bella growled at her reflection in the standing mirror.

A cape of black satin draped gracefully to the floor, covered in dazzling crystals glinting like stars against the dark velvet of night. Bella whipped around, the dress just as stunning as the cape. Twinkling and hugging her curves gracefully.

Staunch anger on Bella's face didn't bring reality back to the fog inhabiting Lucas' mind as it should.

Alicia shouted again, “Don’t rip the damn dress, Bella!”

“Where’s a different one? Short sleeves? Nothing that will fucking strangle me!” Bells yanked at the collar and turned in circles, trying for the zipper.

“They’re all long sleeves, high collars.” Chris drolled.

“Fuck!”

“You look...” Lucas mumbled incoherently.

“I look like a starry night painting vomited on me and is trying to strangle me.”

Not how Lucas would describe her. It was easy to forget that Bella’s beauty was natural, even when she didn’t think it was. She’d done nothing with her hair. It was down with a wave and a few curls, no makeup. All the same, Lucas could hardly breathe, think... anything.

“I’m just done! I’m fucking...” Bella dug at the zipper until Lucas jumped in and stopped her from undressing in front of him.

His hand slid over hers, against her ribs, and finally ended her tirade.

“What happened?”

“I... I... was going to call Preston. Call off going to the gala because... I don’t know. I just...”

Lucas brought his hands first to her shoulders, then tucked hair behind both of her ears.

"But mother found out and insists I need to fix all these stupid mistakes I've made lately. And this was the perfect fucking opportunity because it will be public and the people we know and...”

There was a big ‘and’ coming.

“And?” Lucas prompted.

“She threatened the future of the clinic.”

“Of course she did.”

Classic Lina Astor. The board of directors would do her bidding no matter what Chris argued as Astor Pharm’s CEO.

Bella smashed into Lucas’ chest, hugging him and hiding any new tears. So he wrapped her in his arms, resting his chin on top of her head.

“One night...” he whispered.

Bella jumped into his chin at the first buzz of his phone. He pulled it out to silence the call when the world fell away.

“I need to take this.”

Wiping her face, Bella pushed onto her tiptoes. “Mother?”

Lina Astor’s name in big blocky letters scrolled along the top of his screen.

“If I don’t take this, your mother will have me tied to cement and dropped in the Hudson.”

“She would not. Let me!”

“NO!”

Lucas didn’t bother fighting. Once he was free of Bella, he stumbled from her bedroom.

Chris and Alicia stood watching from the dress rack. Lucas made a beeline for the exercise room behind the kitchen with Bella on his heels. Even under threat of bodily harm, Alicia stepped in Bella's path.

“Hello, Ms. Astor,” Lucas answered on the last ring.

“Mr. Holt!” Bella’s mother instilled a deep-rooted fear even in answering the phone. “I will make this succinct. You will not be in attendance at the Astor Gala.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing is to interfere with Bella setting her future right.”

“Bella’s... future?” Lucas felt confusion, anger, and a sudden spike of sadness burned his lungs. “Bella is the one in control of her future.”

"It's laughable that you or she ever thought that." Then Lina's tone turned gentler, which somehow sounded more frigid than any other woman Lucas had ever met. "Security for the event has been informed. You're not to step foot inside the Astor Manor.”

The call cut off. Lucas’ stomach hardened. Bella stood in the doorway, with her sparkling black gown, taking huge gasping breaths.

It’s just one night.

The words rang in his mind as much now as they did every time her parents forced Bella to galas or balls during their early college years. All in search of a husband.

Bella, the woman he met back in college, who made it her mission to make headlines to get her way, sneered through drying tears.

"Alicia, we're going shopping."

“B?”

Lucas flipped around as Bella contorted to unzip the dress and start dropping it off her shoulders.

"An Astor Gala is a night no one ever forgets." Bella sighed. Cloth rustled, and a second later, her bedroom door slammed shut.

Chris moaned, "A night no one forgets?" After, he shouted, "Preston didn't do anything this time. Leave him out of it."

Bella threw the door open again, standing in her bra and half-zipped jeans, and said, "I'll be perfectly cordial.”