CHAPTER4
LARISA
Williams Manor was the kind of place where I kept expecting to see the ghosts of old-school lords and ladies dressed in fancy attire. Brittany and I were assigned to a table with a man Trevor knew from work and his wife, but I was having trouble focusing on their conversation when there was so much else to take in.
So this is what the obscenely rich do on weekends.Typically, I either worked or lazed around the house, and when I did leave my apartment, I liked spending time outside. Farmer’s markets, parks, terraces, or pools were my thing, and I definitely didn’t need to dress up for any of that.
The outfits here were incredible, though. Men looked dapper in their bespoke suits and the women were beautiful in dresses that were probably one of a kind. Mine was from the fifty-percent-off rack at a sale last year, but I didn’t think I looked that out of place.
It wasn’t just the people I was having a hard time looking away from. My designer’s eye just wouldn’t quit noticing things about the manor itself. While it was lovely and had been incredibly well maintained, there were definitely things I would have updated and improved if I could’ve.
As I returned to our table from the restroom, I was staring at the chandeliers and wondering how old they were. Probably decades.
Not paying attention to the people around me, I pulled out my chair and stepped around it to sit down, still unable to look away from the chandeliers. They were pretty, but they gave the hall a dated look that—
My thoughts were cut off when I nearly collided with a man as I stepped around my chair. I barely kept from spilling the champagne I’d just taken from a waiter while winding my way back to our table. The man apologized immediately, but my next breath got stuck in my lungs when he spoke while I was still making sure the champagne had stayed put and not splashed all over my dress.
“I’m so sorry,” he said in a rich, melodic voice that resonated somewhere deep inside me. “I didn’t see you there. Sorry.”
When I looked up, the eyes I found myself looking into were a clear pale blue that sparkled in the low light of the chandeliers I’d been so taken with. They were the kind of eyes that made me think of midsummer skies and days spent lounging by the pool. My favorite time of year and my favorite activity of that time of year.
The guy’s features were arranged into an apologetic frown, but he was still handsome. Very much so. With those eyes, short light brown hair, and sharp jawline, he looked like a model. Even though he was one the bespoke-suit-wearing men around, it was obvious that he was in good shape. Maybe he’s an underwear model, then. If he isn’t one yet, he can certainly consider it as a career. He’d make a killing.
Tall, broader at the shoulders than the hips, and with a face that I’d have been able to keep staring at for hours meant that he’d sell a shit ton of copies of any magazine that featured him on the cover. There was also something about him that sparked something in me, and it wasn’t just attraction to a good-looking man. While I was stuck on trying to figure out what it was, his attention drifted over to something or someone behind me, and I realized that I hadn’t even said anything yet.
“No, I—” I started to tell him that it was all right. That it hadn’t been his fault and that I had been the one not looking where I was going, but he was already walking away.
Wow. Hot, but rude. I rolled my eyes as I watched him hurrying toward the other side of the room. I tried my best not to check him out any more than I already had. Why do the pretty ones always have to be such dicks?
The encounter left me feeling silly for trying to work out if I could’ve been right about him being different. For a minute there, I’d thought that he wasn’t as arrogant as so many of the attendees around me. Obviously, I’d been imagining things, but I’d really thought that he seemed almost uncertain.
It’d been endearing for a moment, making him seem more human than his looks made him appear. It triggered the strangest urge to help him with whatever was bothering him. But I must’ve been mistaken. There was nothing different about him. That spark must’ve just been hunger. Or my imagination.
Brittany frowned when I dropped down beside her. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I just need to start looking where I’m going when I walk instead of staring at things. There are so many people here and I’d hate to spill on a dress or a suit that costs more than my apartment. I’d never be able to replace it.”
She chuckled. Her features smoothed out of the frown as she shrugged. “I doubt they’d expect you to replace it. Most of these people won’t ever wear whatever they’re wearing tonight again. Everyone who’s anyone is here, and most wouldn’t be caught dead in an outfit they were seen in at an event like this.”
“Well, that’s depressing.”
The other woman at the table laughed. “It’s not so depressing if you think about the fact that you could pick up a lot of these dresses for a steal online by tomorrow.”
“They sell them?” I asked, my eyes nearly bugging out of my head.
She waggled her brows at me. “Some of them. Others will donate them, which is great, of course. A few will keep them stuffed in the back of their closet until they toss them out a few years from now, but with the current trend being to declutter and only keep the things that bring you joy, most will get rid of them.”
“I guess you learn something new every day,” I said, wondering if it might be worth looking into a charity where people could donate these dresses they wore at upmarket events, and then those dresses could be sold and the proceeds donated to the same cause that the event had supported. Kind of like doubling down on the cause, using even the clothes people had worn to make it a little extra money.
If only it was as easy as coming up with an idea to give some extra support.Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. I’d had a few ideas for charities before, but I didn’t have the time, the money, or the knowledge of operating a nonprofit to turn any of those ideas into reality. Maybe someday.
Over dinner, I learned that Brit had been right about these people. Trevor’s colleague and his wife, at least, seemed nice enough. They were rich, but like she’d pointed out, they donated a lot and supported a number of causes, which left me feeling a little guilty over the tiny temper tantrum I’d had about millionaires the day she’d invited me here.
As the auction started, however, my guilt and every other thought took a back seat when I noticed that the guy who’d run into me was onstage. All the men lined up were supposed to be millionaires, at the very least. Brit had told me on our way here that the main source of fundraising for tonight would be the auction.
The tickets had gone for astronomical prices, even if they had been by invitation only, and given the amount of people who had come, they’d already managed to raise a fortune. Since I hadn’t paid for my ticket, I’d planned on making my contribution by buying something at the obligatory auction. What I hadn’t known before, though, was that it wasn’t pearls or trips going up for sale tonight, but a weekend with one of the city’s most well-off bachelors.
As soon as I’d found out about it, I’d resolved to make my donation by paying over some money to the cause instead. Since there was no way I’d win even if I did try to bid on one of these men, there wasn’t really any point in even trying. They were probably going to go for tens of thousands, and I just didn’t have that kind of money.