Say the Word(134)

We traversed the carpet and arrived at the atrium, its glass doors propped wide to receive us. When my eyes had cleared of haze caused by too many camera flashes, they swept the hall to take it all in. One glance around the huge lobby told me the company had spared no expense for Centennial. It was just as grand and girly as Jeanine had promised it would be.

Huge swathes of pink fabric hung from the ceiling, elegantly draped from the overhead steel beams like Cirque du Soleil ribbons. I did a double take when I realized there were, in fact, aerial artists performing on each suspended strip of material. Spotlight beams shot up from each corner of the room, illuminating the high vaulted ceiling with colorful lights that pulsed and changed with the beat of the music blasting from the lofted DJ booth across the hall. Waiters dressed in avant-garde pink costumes wound their way through the crowds, trays held aloft as they offered a custom, Luster themed cocktail — which was, of course, pink.

I grabbed two from the nearest waiter and took an immediate sip. Despite the girlish coloring, the concoction wasn’t terrible — it tasted like strawberries covered in whipped cream, the sharp burn of vodka somehow tamed by the sweetness of the fruit juice. Taking another gulp, I offered the second martini glass to Bash.

His face twisted into a grimace of disgust. “Men don’t drink things that are the same color as cotton candy.”

I shrugged, taking another healthy swallow from my first glass. “More for me. God knows I’ll need it to get through this night.”

“Let’s find the bar,” Bash suggested, wrapping an arm lightly around my body and guiding me across the room.

It took us a while to navigate through the throng of Luster employees, all dressed to the nines in glamorous gowns and sophisticated suits, who’d gathered in numbers around the bar — as was the norm for any company party with mandatory attendance and free drinks.

When I heard familiar boisterous laughter coming from the center of the crowd, I glanced over at Bash and grinned. He chuckled as we broke through the crush of people and spotted Simon and Fae, both looking extremely chic as they sat on two barstools holding court for their many admirers. Their inappropriate jokes and sordid stories had the entire crowd in stitches.

“Baby!” Simon squealed when he spotted me, throwing out a hand and waving me forward. I smiled sheepishly as the cluster of people parted so I could approach, Bash hovering close at my back. “You look fabulous! Whoever made that dress is a marvel!” Simon winked at me playfully, squeezing my hand when I reached his side.

“You two clean up pretty well,” I said, grinning as my eyes swept their outfits — Fae’s red beaded gown was heart-stopping and Simon looked dapper in a dark gray suit, his red tie exactly matching the shade of Fae’s dress.

“And how does Mr. Covington feel about the gown?” Simon asked, his eyes on Bash.

“Right now, I’m wishing there was a little more of it,” Bash muttered, glancing around at the men in the crowd, some of whom had their appreciative eyes fixed on my naked back. “But I can’t really blame them for looking. She’s the most beautiful woman in this room — I’d look too.”

“Oh, don’t worry, love,” Fae said, a small smile on her lips. “Most of the men here are gay.”

“True,” Simon added. “In the world of fashion, it’s probably a five to one ratio, gay to straight. Not that I’m complaining.”

Bash laughed as he leaned forward to place his drink order with a passing bartender.

I cast another glance around at the crowd. There were at least four hundred people gathered here, along with more food than I’d ever seen in one place and enough alcohol stocked behind the huge bar to send the whole place up in a fiery inferno if someone were to strike a match.

“This is a pretty elaborate spread,” I noted, tilting my head back once more to examine the acrobats entwined in the ribbons overhead. Their costumes were nude spandex, affixed with thousands of clear gemstones that glittered like diamonds each time they caught the light thrown by a pulsing spotlight.

“It had to be — it’s Centennial! The most important night of our lives!” Fae gushed in a fake British accent, mimicking Jeanine.

Simon snorted. “Where is that old cow, anyway? I haven’t seen her yet.”

“Let’s hope that trend continues,” I muttered, in no rush to see my boss any time soon.

Bash, a fresh scotch in hand, nudged me with his elbow and leaned down until his mouth brushed my ear. “There’s Mr. Harding,” he said in a low voice, gesturing toward the entryway where an imposing, white-haired man had just stepped into the atrium. “And Cara,” he added, nodding subtly toward the opposite side of the room where a group of models had taken up residence in front of the DJ.

“And there’s Jeanine!” Simon hissed in a hushed tone, nodding toward the raven-haired woman approaching from our left. “Crap, she’s spotted us.”

“Great. That woman hates me with a passion,” Fae mumbled.

“She hates everyone,” I said, sighing as I watched our boss move closer, her eyes narrowed on me.

“She likes me,” Bash contradicted with a grimace. “I’ll distract her. You three make a break for it. I’ll meet you on the other side of the bar as soon as I can get away.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down for a lingering kiss. “You’re my hero,” I whispered in a thick Georgian accent, batting my lashes in a coquettish manner. “How ever will I repay you, sir?”