“Alexandra, you look stunning,” she gushed, leaning in to kiss my cheeks.
“Uh,” I stammered, completely caught off guard. “As do you, Ms. Grant.”
“Please, we are not in the office. Call me Madeline.” She waved a hand, dismissing the formality. Her eyes widened as Drew stepped beside me and handed me my glass. Madeline glanced between us, pursing her lips and nodding her approval.
“Madeline, this is Andrew Collins,” I said.
“Drew,” he clarified, shaking her extended hand.
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Drew,” Madeline said, her eyes roaming over him from top to bottom like he was a life-size chocolate sculpture. Yep, she was drunk.
I took a sip of champagne to hide my giggle, eyeing the actual life-size chocolate sculpture that stood across the room. I would have to get a closer look at that later on. Damn, I should have brought a bigger purse.
“Alexandra has told me so much about you.” Madeline placed a hand to her chest, toying with the insane diamond pendant nestled there. I was impressed she wasn’t hunched over from the sheer size of the thing. Madeline was hammered and flirting with Drew. It was quite the show.
Drew retreated closer to my side, placing his hand on the small of my back. “Well, I’m sure only half of it is true.”
An awkward smile spread across his face. His eyes shifted to mine, begging me to save him from my inebriated boss. I bit my lip to suppress a giggle.
Madeline giggled. “Oh nonsense.” She placed a hand on his arm. Totally sauced.
“Can I get you a drink, Madeline?” Drew asked, clearly looking for an escape.
“Champagne, please,” she said with a brilliant smile. As he turned back to the bar to get her drink, she leaned in to me. “He is delicious, darling. Well done. Best to hide him from Gwen.” She winked. Drunk Madeline was my new favorite person! I immediately started devising a plan to start slipping Kahlua into her morning coffee.
I heard the telltale stomp before I saw her. The sound stopped just behind me and a chill ran up my spine.
“Alex,” Gwen said. I could hear the irritation in her voice, and I could feel her cold glare on the back of my neck.
I took a deep breath, slowly turning to face her. I was met with an eyeful of exposed breast. Holy shit! There was more boob out of her dress than there was in it. I swear it looked like the fabric was doing everything it could not to just rip open. I couldn’t look at her face if I wanted to. My eyes were locked on her boobs. She might as well have come topless.
Gwen shifted, pushing her breasts even further up, causing me to take an involuntary step back. For a moment I thought they were going to attack. She must have noticed Drew and aimed her torpedoes in his direction.
Gwen flipped her extensions over her shoulder as Drew approached. With a smile, he handed Madeline her glass and turned to address our new arrival. Poor bastard never had a chance. All he saw were breasts. It was a direct hit, with no chance of survival. I couldn’t blame him. Hell, I couldn’t look her in the face either.
To his credit, he eventually snapped back to himself and looked up at her face. “Hi, I’m Drew,” he stammered, extending his hand to Gwen. She took it and stepped closer, almost pressing herself against him. She practically shoved me out of the way, pretending not to notice that I was standing right fucking there!
Gwen’s eyes ran up and down Drew like a predator inspecting her prey. “A pleasure, I’m sure,” she said in her best breathy Marilyn Monroe voice. Oh come on, was she for real?
Without breaking eye contact or even releasing Drew’s hand, she said, “Nice dress, Alex.”
“You too, Gwen. Too bad there isn’t more of it.”
Drew coughed, almost choking on his drink. Calling that a dress would be a serious exaggeration. It was more like strips of black fabric glued randomly to her body. Gwen glared at me and I met her evil eye head on, neither of us wanting to be the first to flinch.
Madeline looked frantically between Gwen and me, searching for a way to defuse the tension. I was tired of Gwen and her bullshit. Everything with her was a competition. She made it her personal goal to ruin my life and my career. I was not going to let her ruin this night. I was done taking her shit. I knew, at the time, how childish I was acting, but all my sense of reason and maturity vanished when that glorified blow-up doll confronted me.
Madeline smiled, spotting something over Gwen’s shoulder. “Ms. Stevens, come. I see your father. Let’s say a quick hello,” Madeline said, reaching for Gwen’s arm and pulling her away as quickly as possible. An evil grin spread wide across Gwen’s lips as her eyes shifted to Drew. She wiggled her fingers at him as Madeline dragged her off.
Drew let out a long breath. “I have to admit, that was kind of hot. I couldn’t tell if you guys were going to fight or make out. Either would have worked for me.”
I punched him in the arm. He rubbed it, pretending to be hurt.
“Well, now you have met Bitchface in all of her surgically enhanced glory.”
Look, there’s nothing wrong with plastic surgery. I have contemplated it myself many times, usually while wearing a bikini, but this girl was a walking disaster. She was like a sarcophagus, a hard, beautifully painted outer layer hiding the shriveled corpse underneath.
Drew put one hand in his pocket, leaned toward me, and whispered, “Your boss is smashed.”
“I know, right?”
***
I was determined to enjoy the rest of my evening and clear all thoughts of Gwen from my mind.
It was turning into such an incredible night. I met the most amazing artists and musicians and spent most of the time gazing at them in wonder and listening to their stories about botched art installations and obsessive symphony groupies. Who knew classical violinists had groupies? I was in heaven!
I fell head over heels for a man named Charlie Peterson. His father played jazz trumpet for the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra when he was a kid. I mean, the man shook Sinatra’s hand!
Drew stuck with me for bit, but I was so in awe, I was hanging on every word of anyone willing to talk to me. So, eventually, he left me to worship and kiss my temple. He smiled and told me he would find me later.
After dinner was over, the band started to play some of my favorite old songs. I was a sucker for jazz classics. I accepted an offer to dance from a man named Chester who played Patrick Dennis in The West End production of Mame. I found my nerd Nirvana.
As Chester whirled me around the floor, I caught Drew’s eye for a moment. He stood at the edge of the floor holding a glass of champagne, talking to an older gentleman and his young wife. He raised a hand in a brief wave, watching me for a moment before returning to his conversation.
When the dance was over, I thanked Chester, who bowed graciously, and made my way to the bar. The bartender set a glass of champagne down in front of me while I swayed to “Isn’t It Romantic?”
“Alex McCabe,” a slow, deep voice said from my right. I turned to see who it was and was captivated by a set of gorgeous gray eyes.
“Peter Russell,” I said as he stepped forward, resting his arm on the bar in front of me.
He raised two fingers to the bartender. “Scotch, neat.”
As the bartender took off to get his drink, Peter turned to me with a sexy half smile.
Peter and I dated briefly in college. He was charming, obviously good-looking, and a fan of sorority girls, which was one of the reasons why we dated briefly. He still had the good looks and charm. Hopefully his tastes in women had changed in the years since graduation.
“You look incredible.” He took a step back, taking me in from head to toe.
“So do you,” I replied with a smile, and damn did he. His light brown hair was clean-cut and had that Clark Gable quality, even if he did use a bit too much product. He had a nice smile and strong features. His broad shoulders filled out his tux nicely and the thin silver tie he wore highlighted his eyes. He definitely knew how to accent his best features, a sure sign that self-esteem was not a problem for him.
“How are you?” I asked. “I heard you moved to London.”
“I just moved back, actually. I was offered a position with Franklin & Burke.”