Chapter Ten

Ava

“So… Final check for the opening reception tonight,” Robbie begins, stopping by my cubicle. He’s in a pale button-down shirt and khakis, which I’ve dubbed “Robbie Style.” I haven’t yet seen him in anything else, and am starting to suspect he doesn’t own any other clothes. “Everything good?”

“On target,” I say with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

He huffs. “I’m not used to dealing with nonprofit medical centers like this. Nate barely gave me any warning about this grand opening fundraiser.”

I suppress a smile. Apparently Robbie—whose previous positions were in health care management—has never had to do a fundraiser before. He’s been a bit frazzled.

“If he’s going to invite all those rich people, why not ask them to chip in?” I ask lightly. Surely they can spare some change for the poor. Stop all those minor illnesses from becoming something major because of money.

“Right.” He exhales roughly. “Don’t forget you have to be there tonight.”

I almost roll my eyes at his tenth reminder. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there.”

“Okay. See you tonight then.” Robbie hurries toward the elevator. Something else I learned since started working here—Robbie’s previous easy and slow manners were for my benefit, so it didn’t look like he was rushing me through the tour. Normally he moves so fast it looks like he’s practically jogging.

Since the opening reception is a fairly fancy event, I shut down my laptop a little bit early so I can prettify myself and get to the hotel where the reception will be held. I need to change into a more formal dress than the simple lavender one I’m wearing. Thankfully I have a classic black cocktail dress that’s right for the occasion—yay for impulsive clearance rack browsing—and I freshen up my makeup. As I squeeze my feet into pointy-toed heels, I sigh. I miss Japan and its love of comfy but stylish shoes. But there’s no way I’m wearing flats at a function like this.

The opening of the center is a big deal. One of the main tenets of the medical center is that you deserve to be treated with dignity and respect the moment you walk through the door. Bennie once remarked that rich people probably need to do this to earn a ticket to heaven, but I don’t care about the motive. If there’d been more guilt-laden rich people in the town where we grew up, Mom could’ve gotten the care she needed.

The hotel where Nate Sterling decided to host the event is modern and chic, just like the medical center. Contemporary art and furniture fill the sleek main lobby, and the reception hall is huge, with a smooth marble floor and rectangular chandeliers that look totally space-age. The hotel management is sponsoring the event—thank God—so we’re hosting it there for free. I can’t imagine how much it would cost otherwise…although from what I can tell, Nate isn’t the type to care about money.

Just like Lucas.

Then I mentally smack myself. You decided not to think about him anymore, remember? I moved across the entire damn continent to put distance between us, so I wouldn’t be tempted to check for women’s cars parked in his driveway.

This too shall pass. Bad moments disappear if you stand strong. And I don’t care what it costs: I will be the last one standing.

I do a final check with the hotel staff to make sure the arrangements are perfect. Thankfully, everyone’s professional and on top of things. Nobody seems to notice or care that the event is really to benefit the poor. Their attitude surprises me; the poor always seem to get snubbed or patronized in subtle ways.

Within half an hour, the reception hall starts to fill with people in expensive designer clothes and jewelry. I scan the crowd, then spot Jon stepping inside. He’s changed into a fresh suit—this one is dark gray, giving him a little extra gravitas—and I have to admit he looks fantastic. I go over to him.

“You made it.”

“Of course.” He looks around. “This is awesome.”

“It is, isn’t it?” I grin. “Come on. I’m supposed to mingle until needed.”

“Cool.” He snatches two flutes of bubbly from a server and hands me one. “To reconnecting.”

I clink my glass against his. “Cheers.” I take a sip, let the flavor of crisp alcohol fill my mouth. It’s almost as good as what I had on Lucas’s plane. And the second the thought enters my mind, I stiffen, unable to help myself.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks.

“Have to be on my best behavior,” I fib. “My boss is coming our way.”

Robbie reaches us in the next five seconds. He’s dashing in a navy suit, and escorting a slim middle-aged Asian woman in a bright red dress that flatters her complexion and vivid coloring.

“Robbie,” I say.

“Great job, Ava. You’ve done well,” he says. “This your date?”

“Yes. Meet Jon Barkley. We went to school together.” I turn to Jon. “This is my boss, Robbie Choi.”

Both men beam, and they shake hands.

“Jay, meet my new assistant Ava. I couldn’t have pulled it off without her help. Ava, my wife.”

Jay shakes my hand, her grip firm and strong. She also gives Jon’s hand a couple of determined pumps. “Lovely to meet you, Ava. Robbie can’t stop singing your praises.”

Is it my imagination, or is there a hint of censure in her tone? I blink once and look at her face. She’s smiling expectantly, and I realize I should say something. “Oh, I haven’t done much except help. This is Robbie’s event.”

“Nonsense,” she says. “Behind every great man is a capable woman.”

She seems nice, but my internal alarm is blaring. I force a smile. “He has you.”

“And now you as well.” She turns to Robbie. “I think I’ll go grab something to drink…”

“I’m fine. I have to check on a few things.”

“All right, then. I’ll leave you to it.” She walks away.

Robbie flashes a quick grin, but somehow it looks tight. “I’m hoping you’ll mingle and get to meet the people on the list I gave you.”

Despite myself, I flinch inwardly. The list contains Elizabeth Pryce-Reed, and the last person I want to see is someone from Lucas’s family—the people he never wanted me to meet…people who must’ve known why he was pretending to care about me.

Robbie continues, “Those are the most likely donors for our cause, and they’ll be more receptive if they know you and like you.”

Not even my own parents thought I was worth anything, but I can probably fake it for a bit. After all, I won’t be spending more than a few minutes with each of them, and I can probably avoid Elizabeth. Let someone else woo her. “Okay.”

He nods his approval and introduces me to a few people to start. After that, I’m on my own, along with Jon. “Sorry,” I say with a cringe. “I didn’t realize he’d ask me to mingle with people neither of us know.”

Jon shrugs. “I expected it to be that kind of event. I’ve had to attend a few for work reasons.”

So, Jon’s hand at my elbow, I do as instructed. I don’t know how Robbie keeps track of all the people. They start to blend together after a while. It’s much worse than meeting a class of new students. At least there was a seating chart with names to help me remember. And it doesn’t help that my shoes are starting to kill me. I’m not used to being in heels for so long.

Jon runs into a former client, and I quietly excuse myself while they chat. A short break won’t be remiss. I’ll go out to the lobby, sit in a quiet corner for a few minutes and make notes of the people I got a good reading on for follow-ups.

I start to return to the party, then stop when I see Elizabeth coming in my direction. She’s even prettier in person, all delicate bones and gentle curves wrapped in ivory silk. Naturally blond, she looks nothing like Lucas. If I didn’t know from my Google searches, I would never suspect they’re related.

All the things I read about her flash through my mind. Angel. Champion of the Poor and the Hungry. Charity Queen. No cause for the less fortunate too small to be ignored.

But she’s taking part in a scheme to marry some unsuspecting man for financial gain—a painting worth millions. Just because she has a perfect public persona doesn’t mean she’s the same in private. I should know—all you have to do is look at Dad. Or Mom. They both played the loving, struggling parent to perfection until death did them, and I was the one left hurting.

Not wanting to face Elizabeth, I turn and go to the opposite end of the lobby. There’s a door that leads to the restroom, but I also spot a looping staircase to the second level with restaurants and gift shops. I turn and start to climb the steps.

The skin at the nape of my neck prickles, and I look over my shoulder. A dark-haired man has intercepted Elizabeth, and she smiles at him, but her gaze flicks in my direction.

I make a loop and return to the opposite end of the lobby from where she is. I put a hand over my chest. I doubt she wanted to see me for a donation. Most likely she wants to try to persuade me to marry Lucas so the siblings can get their paintings.

I breathe in, but my lungs are tight. Need some fresh air. I go toward the main entrance.

A crisply uniformed valet brings out a black limo and hands the keys to a waiting driver. A couple is standing to the side, waiting to get into the car. I shiver as the cool evening air brushes my bare arms.

The woman turns her head, arches an eyebrow as she notices me and whispers something into the man’s ear. My lips part. It’s Faye Belbin. The jet-black hair, the pale skin and the dainty face are unmistakable. A low-cut royal-blue dress clings to her stunning body like she had it glued on.

Then the man shifts and I see the unforgettable profile—Lucas. His presence slams into me like a sucker punch, and it’s all I can do to remain standing.

Faye tilts her head, and her gaze locks with mine. A corner of her mouth quirks up, and she pulls Lucas closer and kisses him, her eyes still on me.

He’s still thin, but the black suit fits him like a glove, showing off his wide, strong shoulders. Hot and cold move through me swiftly, and I can barely breathe.

A low moan tears from someplace deep in my throat. The longer they kiss, the more my flesh seems to flay. I bite my lower lip, hoping the physical pain will overwhelm the crippling ache in my heart.

The driver opens the door, and Faye drags Lucas into the car like some mythical siren, their mouths still fused. Lucas palms her waist, and the door shuts.

I clench my shaking hands, then clasp them together. It’s not just my hands—my whole body’s trembling.

He’s moved on. The only person who hasn’t is me. My reaction tonight proves that. If I ever meant anything, he couldn’t have done what he just did with Faye so soon after the breakup. His “I’m in love with you” was fake, a lie, just like everything else he’s ever said to me.

But telling myself that doesn’t lessen the hurt. Blinking away tears, I turn back to the hotel. Lucas might’ve gutted me, but I still have work to do. And I have a date waiting for me inside.

“Oh my God, is that you?”

What now? I sniffle, then turn. The air whooshes out of my lungs. It’s my half-sister, Elle—my father’s real daughter.

It would be impossible for this night to get any worse.

We both have our father’s hair, but her eyes are green like her mother’s. Elle’s in a slinky red dress, her thick blond mane twisted into a fancy updo. “What…” She shakes her head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be back in Hicksville, Virginia?”

“I’m working. What are you doing here?” Elle’s family was in Northern Virginia last time I checked, and she works for some bank in Boston.

She shifts her weight and straightens. “I’m here to support the poor, of course. My fiancé’s family is into stuff like that.”

Right. Her Harvard lawyer fiancé, a man who gazes at her like she’s the center of his universe. And unlike me, what Elle has is real. A girl like her doesn’t get played by slick guys full of empty words.

“I can’t believe you’re in L.A. working for a hotel.”

I shake my head. “I’m not. I work for the Sterling Medical Center.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I merely stare at her.

She huffs and looks off into the distance. “Damn it. This is a disaster.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? Cedric can’t know about a familial blemish like you. And what would his parents think?”

I realize that I don’t measure up to anybody’s idea of perfection, but being called a blemish is a little too much. “Why would they find out about me unless you blab? Do you think I’m proud we’re related?”

Her complexion turns red. “Are you serious?” She rests her hands on her waist. “It’s your mother who caused all the trouble. She should’ve left Dad alone. He was married.”

“And if your mother”—I sneer—“had been a better wife, maybe he wouldn’t have strayed. It takes two to tango. Don’t forget, Elle, men like us crude, crass girls, too.” For a cheap, dirty thrill that leaves the woman feeling worthless and used, but Elle doesn’t need to know that.

“Are you done?”

I’m not, but I don’t want to fight. If her fiancé’s family are potential donors, antagonizing them won’t go over well with Robbie.

“Oh, there you are!” comes a soft voice.

Damn it. I close my eyes for a moment. Elizabeth.

Elle’s demeanor instantly changes. “Oh my goodness, Elizabeth! So good to see you again.”

“Likewise, Elle. You look beautiful. Engagement must agree with you.”

Elle flushes.

“You’ve made Cedric so happy.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you mind giving us some privacy?” Elizabeth says, gesturing at me. “There are a few items I need to discuss with Ava.”

Elle glances between me and Elizabeth. “Of course. It’s always a chore, isn’t it, instructing the help?”

My cheeks redden at the snub. She is just like her obnoxious mother. I press my lips together and wait for Elizabeth to join the snotty fun.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Elle. Ava is a valuable member of the Sterling Medical Center. I’m here to consult, not instruct.” The pleasant expression on Elizabeth’s face remains the same, and her voice is just as sweet. But a subtle shift in body language makes it clear she’s just delivered a rebuke.

Elle looks at me again, this time less certain. “Oh. Well, my mistake. I’ll get going now. I hope you have a productive talk.”

“We will.” Elizabeth smiles warmly. Once we’re alone, she extends her hand. “I’m Elizabeth Pryce-Reed.”

I ignore her hand. I don’t want anything to do with people related to Lucas. “I know.”

I wait for her to be upset, maybe deliver a reprimand the way she did to Elle. Instead, she drops her hand back to her side and smiles. “I like you.”

“You don’t even know me.” I wrap my arms around myself. “If you’re here to ask me to help Lucas fulfill the conditions so you guys can get the paintings, forget it.”

“I would never ask you to do that.”

I snort. “Really? Why don’t I believe you?”

She regards me quietly for a moment, and there is compassion in her gaze. “I saw you watching him with Faye.”

My face heats. Goddamn it. The last thing I want is public humiliation. “You must’ve enjoyed the show.”

“You care about him.”

“What do you want me to do about it?”

“Has he told you he loves you?”

I can’t hold her eyes anymore. She’s seeing too far into me, and I hate that, even though I’m certain Lucas told her everything. “Don’t you know?”

“What am I supposed to know?”

“Didn’t he tell you how he couldn’t act well enough to convince me? ‘I’m in love with you.’” I look up and blink as my vision blurs. The memory of it still hurts. The pain is doubly bad after having seen him with Faye. “What a joke.”

With horror, I realize I’m crying, and turn away.

“Come on.” Elizabeth wraps an arm around me and leads me into an alcove behind a giant planter to give us some privacy. She hands me an embroidered handkerchief from her clutch. “He didn’t lie, Ava.”

I dab at my eyes furiously. “Sure. That’s why he’s already moving on to the next candidate—”

“He’s with her because you didn’t fight for him.”

My hand fists around the damp handkerchief. “Oh, bullshit.”

“I know he loves you. Otherwise he would’ve never stayed in Charlottesville or gone after you in Asia.” A beat of silence. “Where I sent him.”

My mouth opens. I wondered why he waited so long before coming after me. To learn that it was Elizabeth’s doing—it’s the last thing I suspected. “You?”

She nods. “I tracked you down and let him know.”

Anger blazes through me. “You must really want those paintings.”

“They aren’t my main concern. I want Lucas to be happy. I thought you could do that for each other.”

“You know what people say about assuming.”

She sighs. “I’m sorry his love wasn’t enough for you.”

Bitterness churns inside me. It takes all my control to maintain a somewhat civil tone. “He never loved me. It was all about those damn paintings.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong. He never wanted to marry for them. He told us that loud and clear when our father threw that…ridiculous proposition in our faces.” Elizabeth pauses. “Has he ever hinted he wanted to marry you? Or done anything to trap you into marriage?”

“He was working up to it. He forced me to come to the States. Got me fired at my old job.”

Elizabeth’s mouth thins. “He’s used to getting things his way. But did he ever ask you to marry him?”

I shake my head. “He knew I’d never say yes without some serious convincing.”

She gazes at me somberly. “You can draw whatever conclusions you like, Ava. But don’t blame Lucas for being with another woman if you aren’t willing to fight for what you want.”

Her words hit me like a backhand. Elizabeth has no right to lecture me like this. She’s nobody to me, and I don’t trust her motives. She might be a saint, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want the paintings, too. “Maybe a pretty girl from a nice family doesn’t understand what it’s like for people like me, but wanting and fighting aren’t always enough.”

Elizabeth moves forward, and I almost take a step back before I catch myself.

“You’re awfully prejudiced, aren’t you?” she says.

“Prejudiced?”

“Dismissing me for my appearance and background.”

“And what else do I have to go on? It’s presumptuous of you to act like you know me, and I don’t believe you’re on my side.”

“I know you—and your circumstances—far better than you think. Including your daughter.”

It’s like she’s thrown a bucket of iced water over me. Is this a threat—that she’ll take my child away? I’d never be able to stop Lucas’s family. They’re too powerful, too connected. “I don’t have a daughter.” I manage to force the words out through numb lips.

Elizabeth sighs, letting her shoulders droop for a second before straightening again. “Because you gave her away. You shouldn’t have. We would’ve taken her in.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” I throw the handkerchief at her.

She lets it drop to the floor, over her stilettos.

“And there’s no reason for you to ‘take her in’. She’s not Lucas’s,” I say firmly.

I start walking away. Her gaze on my back feels like a knife digging between my shoulder blades. My hands are shaking again, and I make fists so she won’t see how badly I’m reacting. How does Elizabeth know about Mia?

I stop at the revolving door leading outside—I don’t even remember how I got there—and turn around. Elizabeth is gone.