Breaking the Billionaire's Rules(65)
Go ahead and make her compete for your approval. Remember, you are in control.
~The Max Hilton Playbook: Ten Golden Rules for Landing the Hottest Girl in the Room
* * *
Max
Parker and I head to the auditorium at seven. We’ve put a lot into this; I really want it to be a success. It’s not just about polishing my image. The city’s best designers have gone all out donating clothes. The models have donated their time. Maximillion employees have solicited donations from businesses and vendors for the raffle. We’ve got some surprise models lined up for turns on the catwalk—comedians and musicians, mostly.
I go back to check on the Maximillion team of models. We’re trotting out the Vicious line tonight. Of course, the designers have things under control.
I’m not surprised; I’ve built the business by putting good people in place and letting them run with their ideas; checking on them is really just a formality. A way of showing them I’m right there with them. A way of trying to get my mind off of Mia, even though everything makes me think of her, right down to the snarky expression on her face that day she heard we had a fashion line called Vicious.
I head back through the front past the catering staff, thinking about her little notes. The sandwiches that she chose. I gave Parker every last one of the sandwiches. Like enjoying them might be dangerous, somehow.
I check on the team of event planners, whose base of operations is off to the side of the giant space. Everything’s running like clockwork just when I could use a disaster. The place looks great, though; a vast spread of candlelit tables beneath chandeliers and streamers. Guests in tuxedos and gowns are starting to arrive, moving through the sea of elegance like exotic fish.
Parker comes up and hands me a drink. “We gotta get over to the captain’s table—the show’s gonna start.”
It won’t start for twenty minutes, but there are lots of dressed-up people between here and there, which means photos. It’s easier to say no to photos when it’s somebody else’s event.
I make my way over, posing for pictures and saying Max Hilton things, being the carefree playboy who exists in the glittering two dimensions of screens and billboards and camera lenses.
It was almost enough for a while.
Lana comes up and hugs me. She’s with her real boyfriend, a man who’s allergic to public events. I shake his hand, thank him for making it. Everybody looks amazing.
That, too, makes me think about Mia, declaring herself more beautiful and fascinating than the models in my pictures. With enough force that you could almost think she believes it.
I knew it was true.
Fifteen more minutes, and we’re finally home free, heading for the four empty chairs at the table at the end of the runway. Our fashion industry co-hosts are already there, next to Henry and Vicky Locke. I go over and shake hands with Vicky, and then I clap a hand onto Henry’s shoulder. “So good to see you,” I say. And I mean it. Henry and I became friends while we worked together on rehabbing the studio complex. His foundation is involved in a big way with this night. In fact, the Lockes’ favorite animal shelter is this year’s charity.
Parker leans across the table and says something to Henry.
I feel something brush against my leg—once, then again, with more deliberation.
A wave of surprise comes over me; it can only be Vicky Locke, who’s seated directly on my right. Is she rubbing my leg by accident? It has to be by accident. She’s mad about Henry.
I angle away, but there it is again.
“I’m sorry, that must’ve been my leg,” I say to her.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“I think…our legs.”
“Oh!” She ducks under the table, bringing up a little white dog wearing a bejeweled bow tie. “Smuckers! What are you doing?” She gives me an apologetic look. “I hope it’s okay that he’s here.”
“Of course!” I ruffle his furry little head.
“We’re raffling off his diamond bow tie collar,” she says. “He’ll be modeling it later on. He’s the spokes-dog for this charity.”
“Spokes-dog,” I say. “A vital role.” It’s a little bit silly, because, really? Spokes-dog? But Henry Locke beams at his wife.
She grins back over at him, and I’m blown away by the affection they have for each other. The sense of their mutual acceptance and support. Something dark ripples through my chest.
The music starts up and models come walking out. Everybody’s showing their playful collections—this isn’t a hugely serious show. A few rounds in, Lana has bicycle messengers riding around the catwalk with her purses.
I order another drink. The night is going to be interminable.
27
Go ahead and choose a hot one. If you work my system right, you can have her.
~The Max Hilton Playbook: Ten Golden Rules for Landing the Hottest Girl in the Room
* * *
Mia
Kelsey lines up my Meow Squad co-workers and friends by height and hands out the squares. Jada adjusts our sequinned ears. Sienna complains about her letter. “Can’t I be the ‘L’?”
“You’re the ‘Y,’” Kelsey says. “The ‘Y’ is important.”