I ignored their cruel whispers and retreated to a
quiet corner. My phone buzzed. It was my
mother, her voice shrill with anger. “Ashley, the
Howards are calling off the wedding! They want
half the engagement money back
—
five
hundred thousand dollars! Three years, and you
couldn’t even hold onto him? You’re useless!
Figure it out yourself; we don’t have that kind of
money!”
I hung up, my heart pounding. This glittering
world of champagne and diamonds wasn’t for
- me. I just wanted to escape.
- 4.
“I heard Ethan Blackwood’s back in town and
might be here tonight.”
<
“No way, he never comes to these things.”
“True, last time he was seen in public was on
national news.”
My chest tightened. I reached for my purse to
get my medication, but the rustling alerted the
gossipers, and they walked away. My heart
began to spasm, the tight dress suffocating me.
I fumbled with the clasp, desperate for air, but
my freshly manicured nails were too long. I
gasped for breath, leaning against the railing,
my face pale. The party was in full swing. Mark
and his new fiancée were probably dancing,
oblivious. And me? I was going to die quietly on
this deserted deck.
- 5.
“Mr. Blackwood, shall we go in?”
Ethan didn’t answer. He took a cigarette from
his case, dipped it in a small box of fragrant
“You go ahead. I’ll finish this,” he said, walking
toward the railing.
“It’s windy out here, sir.”
The group dispersed, leaving him alone. Ethan
was back in LA to consolidate his power. He’d
soon be running the city. The gala organizers
had pulled every string to get him to appear,
but he wasn’t interested. His family had been
hounding him about marriage, so he’d come for
a breather.
Halfway through his cigarette, he saw a fragile
figure slumped against the railing. He started to
turn away but then heard a thud. He looked
back. In the dim moonlight, the figure lay on the
deck, a vision of unexpected grace.
- 6.
My vision swam. I saw a man, a stranger, and
clung to him like a lifeline. My grip was
Mulling hin
chant
<
surprisingly strong, pulling his arm to my chest.
I struggled to breathe, my heart racing. He
seemed to understand. Kneeling down, he took
my wrist. “Where’s the zipper?” he asked calmly.
I couldn’t speak. I grabbed his hand again, pressing it against my chest. He frowned,
removed my hand, and looked at the neckline of my dress. Deftly, he undid the row of tiny hooks. Relief washed over me as I gasped for air, completely forgetting that my dress was skintight, with only small, petal–shaped pasties underneath. Now, with the front open… I was exposed.
- 7.
A warm, heavy suit jacket covered me. I blushed crimson, finally realizing my predicament.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“Can you stand?”
<
I nodded, clutching the jacket, and pulled
myself up with the railing.
“Should I call someone for you?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” I mumbled.
