“Whatever.” I threw another creeped out look at the folder, then met his gaze again with my determined one. “I am not going.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He stood his ground as well, and upon seeing the look I threw him, he added. “Sir.” Still, he carried on. “The first one is the same person that’s been on Mrs. Gloria’s top list, Zara Rutherford.”
“Again?” I’ve lost count of how many times at this point my mother has tried to set me up with this woman. And I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve turned it down. I don’t have anything against her personally, in fact, I’m to weigh it all rationally, she’s the best candidate I have. However, I can’t agree to her, not when there’s someone else I’ve set my mind on.
Carter nodded, to confirm my question. “Under Mrs. Gloria’s order, I’ve sent her a gift under your name to look forward to your blind date on Sunday night.” His lips slanted upwards into a smile. “Cute designer heels that are of a limited number-befitting of your image.” He then dropped his tablet on the table, pushing it towards me. “I’ve cleared up your schedule for the weekend, so you don’t have a way out of this.”
I gave him a deadpanned look, wondering when he became all in on my mother’s team. I should probably get a new assistant, yeah? Someone that doesn’t follow my mother’s instructions back and forth? Then again, Carter is the best I have, and I doubt anyone can replace him-not that I want anyone to. But, is he keeps up with this, I might really just consider getting someone else. Someone that wouldn’t force me on blind dates.
He suddenly added, his words changing my course of thoughts. “Speaking of which, Mrs. Grace’s exhibition is starting in thirty minutes. She’s sent you an invite, as one of the investors of the gallery.”
I waved it off, sinking back on my seat. “She can handle her exhibition on her own. There’s no need for me to go there.” Art has never been my thing, I think Grace is the one that exhibited the art talent in the family. I on the other hand is the sibling that hasn’t quite grasped the talent and love for art. I’d rather not go.
“I’ve checked the guest list for any potential business clients.” As if there’s any need for that. “CEO of Brian and Co. will be there, so it might be easier for you to meet than to set another appointment. Don’t you think?”
“Set the appointment.” I gave him a pointed look.
Still, he ignored me and carried on, “Others are Zara Rutherford.” Oh, God. There it is, the reason why he’s trying to get me to go there. He didn’t stop though. “Kuffer Grande, Prime Minister Joe Ally, CEO of Heralds, CEO of Montague Concept, do you still want me to cancel your invite?” He looked up, offering me an innocent smile.
I blinked, letting the names he just called out sink in because there’s a particular one he said that caught my attention. “Wait, did you just say…”
“Yes. Miss Montague will be there; in case you have a business issue to discuss with her. Should I still cancel it?” Though he’s sporting an innocent look, I have no doubt he’s doing this intentionally. “I’ll take your silence as my cue to get the car ready then? Alright. I’ll be on it.” Then he offered me a curt nod and walked out.
My lips slowly slanted upwards into an instant smile. Remember when I said I’ll consider changing an assistant? Yeah, I take it back. I pushed my chair back and got my suit jacket, hastily shrugging it on like an excited kid about to see his crush. Truthfully, I feel like so, and throughout the drive to the Gallery, all I could think of is seeing her again, to talk to her, just…anything.
By the time I reached the Gallery, the auction had already started and was ongoing. I stood by the entrance, my eyes skimming the room as I tried to spot her amongst the crowd of guests there. I’d sported Grace and Zara seated together on the same table, but I couldn’t spot her anywhere. I frowned, wondering if Carter fooled me into being here for some other reason. However, before I could dwell on that thought, I heard the voice I had been yearning to hear in two years.
“15 million dollars.” Her voice, it was just as I remembered it, only more assertive. It didn’t take long to pinpoint her then, considering everyone else pretty much looked in her direction. I couldn’t see her face, but the mere sight of her back had me grinning.
She’s seated alone in her table, seeming unbothered by the seclusion. If anything, I could tell from her square shoulders and confident posture that she couldn’t care less about it. And without much thought, I found myself raising my paddle, raising the bid higher. Why did I do so? Well, certainly not for the piece of art.
Like I said, art has never been my thing. Rather, I’m looking for a way to stir up this woman. I derive joy from it, and it’s just what I need to brighten up my day. I was hoping she’d turn around to look at me like the others did, but she didn’t. Instead, she stubbornly raised the bid till I called for fifty million.
She didn’t argue further; I guess she wasn’t in the mood nor did she find the little game amusing. And like that, the painting was sold to me. I made my way to the stage to receive the documents of the art, but really, all I was yearning to do was to meet her gaze. Even as my gaze met Grace’s one that swirled with question-though something about the knowing look on her face told me she knew what I am up to, and that I would get an earful from her later on.
I wasn’t bothered. All I wanted was for my eyes to meet hers, to meet Isabella’s, and it did. Because as I looked in her direction, our gazes met, and upon seeing the surprised look masking her expression, I found myself grinning, my heart swelling. However, all it took was for me to look away for a split second, to receive the documents and stuff, then when I looked again, she was nowhere in sight.
***
Isabella Montague.
I stared at my reflection through the mirror, giving myself a quick onceover. From the light make-up to the mustard colored wrap dress I’d picked out to wear for the event, I convinced myself that it’s still not too late to drive back to my apartment and ditch the wedding event all together.
However, I know I couldn’t just go back when I’ve made it this far. So, I released a small sigh, picked up my pouch and stepped out of the car, locking it behind me. Being welcomed by the sun up high, I brought out my sun glasses and donned it, before making my way into the wedding venue just like all the other guests are.
By the entrance, I handed my invitation card, before stepping into the grand set up for the wedding. With each step I took, my strapped heels clank against the smooth cobblestone pathway leading to the wedding grounds set outside in the backyard of the bride’s parents’ home. There were people situated by the entrance, tasked with receiving guests for the about to be wed couple to which I stopped by, handing my envelope to them. I meant it when I said I’m in no mood to pick up any gift, money should be enough.
Most of the guests had already arrived, each settled in their respective seats, shielded from the sun by the canopies set up, thankfully. My eyes surveyed the place, trying to spot any familiar face. The bride is nowhere in sight, as expected, but the groom is already on the aisle talking to a few guys, his groomsmen no doubt.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.