Chapter 12

The party was in full swing, a glittering affair of high society elites mingling effortlessly, their laughter and chatter echoing through the grand ballroom. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, casting fragmented light across the room like stars in a polished night sky. Servers glided through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and appetizers, their practiced grace blending seamlessly into the opulence of the evening.

I was impressed. Even I, couldn’t pull it off at all.

I clutched my champagne flute tightly, it’s cool stem grounding me as I fought the creeping unease breathing to choke me. The faces around me were unfamiliar, save for the occasional nods and greetings directed Mr. Railway. I was, quite frankly, out of my depth.

“Smile, Veronica,” I whispered to myself, pasting on the same polite expression I had on all evening. Mr. Railway had been kind enough to introduce me to a few of his clients earlier, but I quickly grew weary of the thinly veiled judgements hidden behind their polished smiles and casual remarks. It seemed wealth and rudeness were two sides of the same coin in this room.

“Mr. Railway, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” a deep voice with a thick French accent interrupted my thoughts. I turned toward the source and had to stop myself from grimacing. The man addressing us was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with a balding head that glistened under the chandelier lights. His face was flushed, likely from one too many glasses of wine, and his round, chubby frame strained against the buttons of his suit jacket.

“Mr. Aubert,” Mr. Railway greeted warmly, extending a hand for a firm handshake. “The pleasure is mine.”

The conversation flowed between them easily, but I found myself slightly, slipping behind Mr. Railway in attempts to save myself from Mr. Aubert’s overly interested gaze. The sense of exposure I felt only deepened, making me regret my choice of dress.

I had agonized over it earlier in the evening, staring at the sleek black number hanging on my closet door. It hugged my curves perfectly, accentuating my pear-shaped figure in a way that made me feel both powerful and vulnerable. For someone who rarely ventured beyond her comfort zone, the dress was a bold statement. Tonight, though, I felt raw—like a painting without a frame, exposed to every judgmental eye.

“I must say, your date is truly exquisite,” Mr. Aubert’s words brought me back to be present, his words dripping with exaggerated charm. “Such elegance is rare these days. You must be the jewel of the gathering.”

He punctuated his remark with a wink that turned my stomach. I took an unconscious step back, willing myself to disappear. My discomfort was palpable, yet Mr. Railway’s response caught me off guard.

“She’s my assistant,” he said flatly, the tension in his voice unmistakable. Though, his words were meant to clarify, he inadvertently painted a target on my back.

Mr. Aubert’s attention shifted to me, his smile widening into something that made my skin crawl. He was pleased with Mr. Railway’s response. “Ah, such a beauty with intelligence,” he mused.  “Your name, my dear?”

“Veronica Maslow,” I replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. My instincts screamed for me to run, but I knew fleeing would only cause a scene instead. Instead, I prayed silently for an escape.

Thankfully, Mr. Railway seemed to sense my discomfort. “I’d love to continue this conversation another time,” he said firmly. “But we have somewhere we need to be.”

“Hallelujah,” I thought as Mr. Aubert nodded, allowing us to slip away. The moment we were out of earshot, I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“Thank you,” I whispered under my breath, though I wasn’t sure if Mr. Railway heard me. He didn’t acknowledge it, his focus already shifting to the next interaction.

As we made our way across the room, I spotted Austin standing with an older couple. They were laughing at something he said, their joy lighting up their faces in a way that made them seem approachable, almost warm. When we approached, the woman’s expression transformed into one of surprise and delight.

“Neil! You look so different from the last time we saw you!” she exclaimed, pulling Mr. Railway into an affectionate hug. Her thick French accent softened the edges of her words, making them sound melodic.

Mr. Railway’s lips curved into a faint smile as he hugged her back. Austin, ever the joker, made a witty comment that had the couple laughing heartily while earning a half-hearted glare from Mr. Railway.

The exchange was unexpectedly endearing. Seeing Mr. Railway so at ease—showing emotion beyond his usual stoic demeanor—was a rare sight. For a moment, I forgot the unease lingering from our earlier encounter.

“Is she your date?” the woman asked suddenly, her gaze settling on me with curious warmth.

The question caught me completely off guard. My mind raced, trying to formulate a response, but before I could, Austin chimed in.

“Yes, she is,” he said with a mischievous grin that only added to my confusion.

I opened my mouth to protest, but Mr. Railway cut me off. “She’s my assistant, Glenda,” he corrected, his tone sharper than usual. The look he shot Austin promised retribution, but Austin merely grinned, seemingly immune to the warning.

“Relax, Neil,” Austin teased, clapping him on the shoulder. “Let’s focus on the important stuff, shall we?”

The older man chuckled, nodding in agreement. “We do have a lot to catch up on.”

Sensing an opportunity to extricate myself from the awkward exchange, I spoke up. “I’ll be close by,” I assured Mr. Railway, earning a curt nod in response. Without waiting for further acknowledgment, I slipped away, weaving through the crowd with a practiced ease born of necessity.

I found refuge in a quiet corner near the terrace, the cool night air beckoning me through the open doors. Stepping outside, I was greeted by a gentle breeze that carried the faint scent of blooming jasmine. For the first time that evening, I felt like I could breathe.

Leaning against the marble balustrade, I let my gaze wander over the sprawling gardens below. The soft glow of lanterns illuminated the pathways, creating an almost magical ambiance that contrasted starkly with the suffocating atmosphere inside.

I replayed the events of the evening in my mind, frustrationbubbling beneath the surface. Why had I agreed to come here? Oh wait, I had no choice. I knew better than to think I could blend into a world so far removed from my own.

“Veronica,” a familiar voice interrupted my thoughts, and I turned to see Mr. Railway standing a few feet away. His expression was unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—concern, perhaps?—in his eyes.

“You left without saying anything,” he said, his tone soft yetfirm. He was different from his usual self.

“I needed some air,” I replied honestly, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, stepping closer until he was standing beside me. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching comfortably between us.

“You handled yourself well tonight,” he said finally, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “These gatherings can be… challenging.”

I glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thank you,” I said, my voice steady this time.

As the party continued behind us, I found myself relaxing in his presence, the tension of the evening slowly melting away. Maybe tonight wasn’t a complete disaster after all.

Maybe…