Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(46)

I had to smile a little at Stephan turning a bankruptcy into a party, but hell, why not?

“We all have to get up so early in the morning,” I told him. It wouldn’t do at all to have a bunch of no-shows in the morning.

“It’s fine. It’s not like we do this often. Everyone just really needs to blow off steam.”

I well understood. I felt the same urge. “What time do I need to be there?”

He laughed. “In an hour. Get a move on, Buttercup!”

I did, showering, blow-drying my hair, and getting my makeup on in record time. There was a food tray set just inside my bedroom door when I came out of the bathroom.

I ate the turkey burger on wheat quickly, impressed with Marion’s efficiency. It was good, stacked with fresh vegetables, a spicy guacamole sauce giving it flavor. Either I was getting used to the fanatically healthy menu, or Marion was especially talented at making healthy taste good.

I cleared my plate in minutes, rushing to get ready.

I wore red. It seemed appropriate for the venue, and I loved the little dress. It draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, and the way it hung flattered my figure. It set off my collar just right, and I found the diamond cuffs on my jewelry vanity, which went perfectly. I wore diamond hoops in my ears as well, which may have been overkill, but why not? I had a whole team of bodyguards to keep me from getting robbed.

Jackie’s system pointed me in the direction of some nude heels with a red sole. These ones came with a note.

This dress needs stilettos. Please, I am begging you to change your mind on the wedge stance.

Jackie

The note made me laugh. I was almost beginning to enjoy tormenting that strange woman. I knew some fashionistas, but she took it to a whole new level. The idea that she had chosen every outfit, shoe, and bag so carefully, and then apparently left notes on some of them, just cracked me up.

I took the little yellow note to the bag closet and grabbed the tiny nude clutch with the matching number. At least it had a long strap.

I sent out a few texts before I went downstairs. The first one went to James.

Bianca: I’m going to Red for Stephan’s party. Will I see you there?

He responded quickly but shortly.

James: You will.

Cryptic man.

The second text went to the security contact on my phone. I wasn’t sure what the protocol was, but I’d prefer to keep them informed of my actions, as opposed to having them just wait for me at all hours.

Bianca: I’m going out. Heading downstairs now.

The response came back in under a minute.

Security: Roger that.

I thought that was an odd text response, but I just went downstairs.

Blake was waiting for me, wearing a black suit and looking as severe as always. I nodded at her.

She nodded back. “The others are waiting for us downstairs, Ms. Karlsson.”

We got into the elevator.

“You know you don’t have to call me that,” I told her. It was worth at least one try.

She looked startled. “Of course, Mrs. Cavendish.”

I slapped a hand to my forehead. Literally. “Don’t call me that. Call me Bianca.”

“That’s against my orders, Mrs. Cavendish.”

Hand to the forehead. Again. “Okay. Call me Ms. Karlsson, then, please.”

“Of course, Ms. Karlsson.”

I wouldn’t be trying that again. I had most definitely learned my lesson.

I was flanked by the rest of my security the second we stepped into the lobby of the swank building. I had the surreal realization as we walked through that lobby that all of the rich people were watching me, as though I was a person of note. I supposed having a team of bodyguards would do that for anyone.

Johnny walked slightly in front of me and to my left. He shot me a rather familiar glance over his shoulder, very obviously eying up my legs.

I blinked slowly, a little shocked that James wasn’t just being crazy possessive about the Johnny issue. That had definitely been a look, and he couldn’t be guarding me that well if he was that distracted.

“Looking hot, Ms. Karlsson,” he said under his breath, reaffirming my opinion.

And the point goes to Crazy Cavendish, I thought.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Mr. Controlling

Blake and Williams rode in the passenger cab of the limo with me, Johnny and Henry up front. It was a very short drive. I got the VIP treatment from the car to the club, being ushered in without a soul even trying to make eye contact with me. I even got a little perfunctory bow from the bouncer. Being the owner’s girlfriend had some bizarre little perks.

I was led to a VIP section that was already packed with familiar faces. The party was well under way. A loud shout went out from the crowd when they spotted me.

I had to smile. “You guys been at it for that long already?” I asked as Marnie and Judith rushed me, nearly spilling their red martinis in the process. I got side hugs on account of their drinks.

Jessa was right on their heels.

We all laughed as we realized that we were all wearing different shades of red.

“I heard the name of the place, and it just seemed like a good idea,” Jessa said, laughing. She swept a hand down her red halter dress as she spoke. She had a spectacular figure, with long legs, a small waist, and high br**sts.

Judith was wearing a red mini skirt with a white off the shoulder top, Marnie a black skirt with a red ruffled blouse. They had planned it, of course, and wore matching red heels.