She didn’t see Aiden that night or the next morning. He had already left for yet another round of meetings by the time she awoke, so she called down to Cavanaugh, who took her on a sightseeing tour. They rode the ferry around the harbor. It was drizzling, but Cordie didn’t mind. In her estimation the afternoon was perfect. Seeing the spectacular city from this vantage point only made her want to see more.
Miss Marie and two assistants arrived at the penthouse at promptly six o’clock. They came in with a rack filled with clothes hidden by garment bags. Cordie was rendered speechless when she was told all of the clothes were for her. Since most of the items had been altered, she couldn’t send them back.
Once again she was treated like a mannequin. They tugged and pulled, spackled, sprayed, and curled, and by seven thirty the transformation was complete. Her hair was brushed back and fashioned into curls with loose tendrils floating down to the base of her neck. In the past, Cordie had always applied makeup sparingly. She never used eyeliner or shadow. Occasionally she would brush on a little mascara, but that was rare. Miss Marie, however, had her own ideas and went to town with her makeup kit, all the while chastising Cordie for ignoring her incredible features. Never in her career, she said, had she seen such a flawless complexion, such beautiful eyes, such full lips. When she finally let Cordie look in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. Her eyes, her face, her body, had been transformed. Miss Marie really was a miracle worker.
The gown, in a color that matched her eyes exactly, was exquisite. It had a plunging scoop neckline, and the bodice fit so perfectly it looked as though it was molded to her body. The floor-length skirt was straight with a slit that reached the top of her knee. Cordie had never worn anything so magnificent and didn’t think it could possibly be improved on, and then Miss Marie handed her a hooded cape. It was black velvet with a lining the same sapphire blue as the dress. Miss Marie even provided a small beaded clutch. Cordie couldn’t believe the vision that stared back at her in the mirror and decided she didn’t want to know how much it was all going to cost her. One huge splurge in her life was all right. Besides, she was going to a ball with Aiden.
She felt like a princess in a fairy tale. Too bad Aiden wasn’t acting like Prince Charming. He had knocked on her door several times and reminded her they were going to be late if she didn’t hurry up. From the frown he gave her when she finally joined him in the living room, she concluded he was more of an ogre than a prince. He obviously was irritated at her for making him wait, and his only comment when he saw her was negative.
“That top doesn’t cover much.”
“Thank you,” she said sweetly. “You look nice, too.” She smiled as she gave the jab.
It was an understatement. Aiden in a tuxedo was perfection . . . even with a frown on his face.
“You’re beautiful, Cordelia. That color suits you,” he said, seeming a bit contrite.
“I should look beautiful. It took a team of women to make this,” she said, putting her arms out as she did a slow turn.
“A team, huh?”
“I’m serious.”
He laughed. “I know. Are you ready?”
As he was helping her with her cape, he bent down close to her ear and whispered, “I like your perfume.”
His warm breath on her neck made her shiver. She wanted to lean into him but took a step forward instead. “Shall we go?” she asked.
He pushed the elevator button. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Yes. I’ve given it a lot of thought. I still don’t want to talk to her, but I have a letter for her. I’ll ask a waiter to give it to her.”
“You wrote a letter?” He waited for her to answer. She was biting her lip and staring down at the bag clutched in her hands as though still weighing her decision. She didn’t answer his question.
“I want to see the look in her eyes when I give her the shock of her life. If that makes me petty, so be it.”
Cavanaugh was waiting for them. He did a double take when he saw Cordie, but Aiden’s frown stopped him from making a comment.
The Gallery Ball was being held at the Hoffman-Sitz Center, which was located just a few miles south of the hotel. Town cars and limos lined the drive to the front doors in a slow procession. Cordie’s stomach was in knots. She was too nervous to talk, and Aiden must have noticed her unease, because he took hold of her hand.
“I can feel you trembling.”
“I’m a bit anxious,” she admitted. “I’m afraid I might do something to humiliate you.”
He was astounded by her worry. He looked into her eyes and smiled. “Nothing you could do would ever humiliate me.”
Wanna bet? she thought. It was a terribly kind thing for him to say to her, but also totally untrue. “So if I lose it completely and go for Simone’s throat, you won’t be bothered?”
“Not at all,” he said with a straight face. “Do you plan to go for her throat?”
The laughter in his voice made her smile. “I might.”
They came to a stop in front of the steps leading up to the doors. A valet came forward, an open umbrella at the ready.
“I’ll be around the corner waiting for your call to collect you,” Cavanaugh said.
It was beginning to drizzle, so Cordie pulled the hood of the cape over her head. She took Aiden’s arm and went up the steps, lifting the hem of her gown as she moved along.
Aiden wanted to find a spot where Cordelia could watch the crowd. He suspected every eye would be on her as soon as she removed her cape, and he was right. He even heard several gasps. In case they needed to make a hasty exit, he didn’t check her cape. He draped it over his arm, took hold of her hand, and led her into the gathering.
The main ballroom was like a huge and beautiful inverted fishbowl, circular with a leaded-glass dome overhead. Guests entered on the first level, which wrapped around the room, and a ring of steps led down to a round dance floor. Huge pillars soared to the ceiling, and between these were small round tables that sat no more than four people, perfect spots for the guests to observe the orchestra stage at the far end of the room and the dancers below. The colors were muted, which made the colorful gowns the women wore all the more vibrant.
They had walked halfway around the circle before Aiden stopped. From where they stood, they could easily see the entrance and all of the dance floor. He draped her cape over one of the chairs and turned to the entrance, satisfied that the pillar next to them would conceal Cordelia from the crowd but still allow a wide view.
“It’s chilly in here,” she remarked.
It wasn’t, but he decided to agree. He put his arm around her and drew her closer. “Better?”
“Yes,” she answered, grateful for his warmth and his reassuring hug.
Aiden knew quite a few of the guests, and as the ballroom began to fill, several couples stopped to say hello. While Aiden was politely shaking hands, Cordie noticed a very good-looking man making his way toward them. He was in his thirties, with brown hair streaked blond by the sun and a smile that would make most women weak in the knees. His hair covered his collar, longer than what was considered fashionable, and she made the deduction that he was a nonconformist. She couldn’t stop staring at him. He looked almost as good as Aiden in his tuxedo. He was every bit as tall, though not as lean. His clear green eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief.