Page 68 of Expecting an Argument
He held up the shoe box. “Those are on loan from great-great-grandma Adelaide, but these are all yours.”
Beau opened the shoe box to reveal a pair of nude mesh flats dotted with rose gold gems. My hands couldn’t yank them out of the box fast enough. The gems glittered and the lacquered red paint on the soles shone brilliantly under the bathroom lights.
I lifted an eyebrow. “What’s the point in buying red-bottom shoes if no one is going to see the bottoms?”
Beau gave me a quizzical look. “Because…you like them?”
I turned the sole of the shoe toward him. “I’m surprised you didn’t glue non-slip rubber pads onto these. Are you sure you trust me waddling around without my precious safety shoes?”
He gave me a half smile. “Just hang onto me all night and you’ll be fine.”
I bit my lip and turned around to face the bathroom mirror. With my guidance, Beau securely worked the butterfly comb into my half updo. Then he brushed aside my hair to put on the necklace. I sucked in a breath as he placed the cold emerald pendant on my flushed chest. The hair stood on the back of my neck as Beau’s gentle hands fastened the antique clasp.
Once the jewelry was secured, he guided me to one of the bedroom chairs. He knelt in front of me and slipped on my new shoes, one by one.
I could barely breathe at the sight of him on his knees in a damn tuxedo. Slowly, he rose to his feet and gave me an appraising look before extending a hand. “Ready, spring queen?”
I bit my tongue to temper my growing flush and took his hand. He escorted me through the house and helped me into the truck. I cuddled with a pillow and a fluffy throw blanket he had put in the front seat and took a nap while he listened to the Bored Bros on the drive to the city.
When I woke up, the sun was setting and Beau was handing the truck keys over to a valet. Another male valet opened the passenger door to help me out, but Beau quickly stepped in.
“She’s delicate,” he said to the valet as he offered me his arm. “I’ve got her.”
Beau helped me out of the truck and we walked on a strip of red carpet into a hotel lobby. The light smell of jasmine tickled my nose. A huge chandelier surrounded by dazzling rectangular crystals hung overhead as Beau escorted me across the polished marble floor to the row of elevators.
“So, I’mdelicatenow?” I asked with a raised eyebrow as he called an elevator.
The golden elevator doors opened and we stepped inside.
“It’s better than what I wanted to say,” he replied. “Which was, ‘She’s carrying my babies. Touch her and I’ll break yourarm.’”
I rolled my eyes as the elevator ascended. “Since when did you get so protective? Doctors and nurses touch me all the time.”
“Femaledoctors and nurses.”
The elevator doors slid open and a crowd of people in pastel gowns and black tie finery waited outside. I clung a little tighter to Beau’s arm since I didn’t see a single face I recognized in the crowd, but luckily Beau didn’t talk to anyone as we waited to sign in.
A cheerful woman at the registration table sat beneath a banner for the Harmony foundation…oh! That was the charity that bought my clarinet when I was in middle school! My inner band kid almost jumped out of my throat and cheered.
“Mr. Fontaine! What a surprise to see you!” The registration woman beamed as she scrambled for a clipboard. “Just a moment and I’ll get you set up for the silent auction.”
Beau pulled out a folded-up check from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. “Don’t bother.”
Beau quickly turned away and led me into the gala, but I glanced back just in time to see the woman’s face turn stark white when she read whatever number was on the check.
As obnoxious as Beau was with his money, at least he would give kids just like me new instruments that weren’t held together with duct tape and band directors’ tears.
We parted a shimmering blue tinsel curtain to enter the dark ballroom. Blue and gray uplights along the walls created the illusion of being caught in a rainstorm. White umbrellas full of blue balloons hung upside-down from the ceiling, each decorated with strands of silver beads ending in teardrop-shaped jewels that glittered in the low light. A four-piece band played soft jazz music from center stage.
“You almost gave that woman a heart attack,” I said as weweaved through the tables. “I appreciate the sentiment since I used to be a little kid with a song in her heart but moths in her pockets, but do you have to literally throw your money around?”
“Galas arefundraisers,Olivia,” he replied, “I don’t get invites for my dazzling charm and cutting wit. I’d rather just give them the money outright than go through the humiliating circus of an auction.”
He led me to the table closest to the stage and pulled out a chair so I could sit before he left to get food. Feeling lost without one of my steel tumblers at my side, I reached for the water goblet in front of me and took a drink. Though I didn’t expect anyone else to join us at our table, all eight place settings had a full goblet of ice water in front of them. Beau could get a drink at the bar—those waters were mine.
I clinked my nails against my goblet when I caught sight of the little table sign. I picked up the sign that read “The Fontaine Family.”
We weren’t having a night out on Fontaine Energy’s dime? Businesses usually purchased tables at galas, not private individuals.
