The Gala

Susan

The gala was every bit as extravagant as I’d imagined...maybe even more so. The moment I stepped out of the car, I was greeted by a sea of flashing cameras and perfectly coiffed people who looked like they’d stepped straight out of a high-fashion editorial. I adjusted the sleek, floor-length black dress Meera had somehow managed to arrange from an exclusive designer. The fabric hugged my curves in all the right places, and the confidence boost was necessary, considering I was about to walk into Elliot Prescott’s world.

Elliot stood by the entrance, looking maddeningly perfect in a tailored tuxedo. The way his sharp jawline was highlighted by the golden light made me question my life choices for a second. But then he smirked...a trademark, infuriating smirk...and I remembered why I wanted to strangle him half the time.

"You clean up nicely," he said, his green eyes sweeping over me with an intensity that made my stomach flutter.

"So do you," I shot back, lifting my chin. "Though I see you didn’t bring a date. Too bad."

His smirk deepened as he leaned closer, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Didn’t need one. You’re here, aren’t you?"

I rolled my eyes, refusing to let him get under my skin.

As we stepped inside, the grandeur of the room hit me like a tidal wave. Chandeliers dripped with crystals, the orchestra played a soft, melodic tune, and the scent of fresh flowers mixed with expensive perfumes lingered in the air. It was a scene pulled straight from a fairy tale, and I was still figuring out if I was supposed to be the heroine or the uninvited guest.

Elliot led me through the crowd, stopping every so often to greet people. I stayed a step behind, a polite smile fixed firmly on my face. Meera’s advice rang in my ears: Blend in, exude confidence, and remember you’re stunning. I wasn’t sure about stunning, but I was doing my best to fake it.

Then, I heard a familiar voice.

"Susan?"

My heart skipped a beat as I turned to face her: Eleanor Prescott. Elliot’s mother. She was just as I remembered...elegant, poised, and intimidatingly sharp. Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, pausing briefly on my dress, before a faint smile curved her lips.

"What a surprise," she said, her tone as neutral as ever.

"Mrs. Prescott," I greeted her, keeping my voice steady and calm.

"I didn’t realize you and Elliot were still...acquainted," she said, her gaze flicking to her son, then back to me.

Elliot, ever the master of timing, stepped in smoothly. "Susan’s working with us on a major project. It’s been a great collaboration."

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind. "Is that so? How interesting."

"Very," I replied, matching her tone.

"Mother, don’t frighten off the guests," Adrian teased, his grin wide. But the moment his gaze landed on me, his smile faltered.

Eleanor gave him a pointed look. "I’m simply catching up."

Adrian grinned and turned to me. "Susan Hart," he said slowly, his voice laced with surprise. "It’s been...what, ten years?"

"Something like that," I replied, my tone polite but distant.

The conversation was thankfully cut short when another guest approached Eleanor, demanding her attention. As she excused herself, Adrian leaned closer. "Hang in there. She’s like that with everyone."

"Good to know," I muttered, feeling slightly less out of place.

Elliot caught my arm gently, steering me toward the bar. "You’re holding up well," he murmured.

"Was that a compliment?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

He chuckled, his voice low and warm. "Don’t get used to it."

As the night went on, Elliot and I danced around each other...figuratively and, at one point, literally. He made a point of chatting with a gorgeous brunette who laughed just a little too loudly at his jokes, while I engaged in what I hoped looked like a fascinating conversation with a charming investment banker.

By the time dessert was served, I was emotionally exhausted but determined not to let Elliot see it. The game we were playing was petty and ridiculous, but I couldn’t help myself.

And judging by the way his eyes lingered on me when he thought I wasn’t looking, neither could he.

Elliot

Galas were never my thing. Too many fake smiles, too much shallow conversation, and an atmosphere thick with insincerity. But tonight, I was actually looking forward to it...or rather, to seeing her.

I had no idea what Susan would wear, but whatever I imagined didn’t prepare me for the moment she stepped out of the car. The sight was enough to make me pause, and I had to consciously stop my jaw from dropping.

She was stunning. Her black dress hugged her in all the right places, shimmering subtly under the soft glow of the evening lights. The designer had outdone themselves...and, for some reason, I hadn’t pegged Susan as someone who’d go to such lengths for a gala.

She walked toward me with confidence, her chin high, as if she were unfazed by the grandeur around her. But I noticed the slight clench of her jaw. She wasn’t as composed as she wanted everyone to believe.

"You clean up well," I said as she approached, masking my surprise with a smirk.

"So do you," she replied, her tone cool, her eyes scanning me briefly before darting away. "Though I see you didn’t bring a date. Must be a slow night for you."

I chuckled, leaning in slightly. "Didn’t need one. You’re here, aren’t you?"

Her eyes narrowed, and for a split second, I thought she might say something biting, but she didn’t. Instead, she brushed past me and headed inside.

The ballroom was exactly as expected...ornate chandeliers, perfectly polished floors, and the unmistakable hum of wealth and power. Susan took it all in, her expression neutral, but I caught the way her eyes darted from corner to corner. She was taking mental notes, just as she always did.

We mingled briefly, exchanging pleasantries with a few of my business contacts. Susan handled herself with grace, offering sharp, concise answers that impressed even the most seasoned executives. She was good...better than I remembered.

But then came a moment I hadn’t anticipated.

"Elliot," my mother’s voice rang out, smooth yet commanding.

I turned to see her gliding toward us, dressed impeccably as always, her eyes sharp and calculating. And when those eyes landed on Susan, her expression flickered for just a moment.

"Susan," my mother said, a thin smile forming on her lips. "It’s been a long time."

Susan straightened, her calm façade barely wavering. "Mrs. Prescott. Yes, it has."

"I didn’t realize you’d be attending," my mother said, her gaze darting briefly to me before settling back on Susan. "What a surprise to see you here."

"She’s working with us on a project," I interjected, keeping my tone even. "A crucial one."

"Is that so?" my mother replied, her smile tight, her eyes unreadable.

Before the tension could escalate, Adrian appeared, his timing as flawless as ever.

"Mother, don’t frighten off the guests," Adrian teased, his grin wide. But the moment his gaze landed on Susan, his smile faltered.

"Susan Hart," he said slowly, his voice laced with surprise. "It’s been...what, ten years?"

"Something like that," Susan replied, her tone polite but distant.

Adrian’s eyes flicked to me briefly, a question lingering there, but he didn’t voice it. Instead, he chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, you haven’t changed much. Still as striking as ever."

Susan smiled faintly, but her gaze was guarded.

I watched the exchange closely, piecing together fragments of memories. Adrian hadn’t seen Susan since that Christmas party all those years ago...the one where she’d first met my family. Back then, the situation had been awkward, uncomfortable even. My mother had made no effort to hide her disapproval, and Susan had spent most of the evening on the sidelines, clearly feeling out of place.

Tonight, however, was different. She looked the part, her dress commanding attention, her presence undeniable. My mother couldn’t dismiss her so easily this time.

But there was something about the way Susan carried herself tonight...confident, but with a hint of defensiveness. It reminded me of that Christmas, the way she’d tried so hard to fit in, only to be subtly excluded.

Adrian’s grin returned, breaking the tension. "Well, it’s good to see you again, Susan. Don’t let Mother intimidate you too much. She’s all bark, no bite."

"Adrian," my mother chided lightly, though her tone lacked real warmth.

Susan offered a polite laugh, but I could see she wasn’t entirely at ease.

As the conversation shifted and the music swelled, I couldn’t help but watch her. She held her own, but I wondered...how much of tonight reminded her of that awkward Christmas? And why did it bother me so much that she might feel out of place again?

For once, this gala might actually be interesting.