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“Hey, Azalea.”
“Have you spoken to the security at The Orchid?” I asked in a grim tone.
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “They are monitoring the buffet hall and every area you’ll be stepping in. You’ll be safe. Also, Tom and I will only be a few feet away at all times.”
“Thanks, Greg.”
Switching off the call, I sat down and tried to steady my breathing.
After the way, Corey and Caleb kidnapped me that afternoon, I couldn’t bring myself to feel reassured by anyone. The Amhurst brothers always found a way to break through all my defenses.
Spending the late afternoon by my mom’s grave hadn’t made me feel much better either. I didn’t know why but a guilty feeling weighed me down. Had I been wrong to tell Noah to never visit her? Didn’t Mom like that?
“Ugh!” I moaned, covering my face in my hands.
Getting to my feet, I headed into the bedroom and checked myself in the mahogany-carved vanity mirror.
The bold, dramatic eye makeup almost hid the blue of my eyes. My lips were painted a bright crimson.
The long, shimmery, black chiffon gown molded to my every curve. Red-strapped stilettos peeking from underneath the hem gave me an extra four inches of height.
I looked ready to conquer the corporate dinner party that evening. Deep inside though, I just wanted to put on my comfy PJs and snuggle in bed with a cup of hot chocolate.
The trilling notes of the doorbell sounded overhead.
Turning away from my reflection, I went to answer the door.
Tom and Greg stood at the threshold. They could easily pass off as corporate workers in their smart, dark suits.
“You look gorgeous, Azalea,” said Tom with a bright grin.
Greg cleared his throat loudly.
I chuckled. “Thanks, Tom. You look sharp as well.”
“I could look sharper if he’d let me put on the jacket I was planning to wear,” said Tom with a dark scowl.
I glanced at Greg before moving away from the door. They entered behind me and as usual, let their keen gaze rove around my living room.
“You need to work on your manners,” I heard Greg’s voice from behind me as I grabbed my purse. “You have to stay professional at all times.”
“Iamprofessional,” Tom insisted. “It’s good to make your client feel confident about themselves.”
“Yes,” Greg agreed. “But you need to make her feel confident inyourskills. Not over what she’s wearing.”
I chuckled to myself.
Tom was younger than me and a complete sweetheart. He was openly gay too. Greg didn’t mind that but sometimes, he exhausted himself trying to rein in his partner’s enthusiasm for fashion.
“Let’s go, boys,” I called, heading to the door. “I’m counting on you guys to keep me safe tonight.”
Tom caught up with me as I went out into the corridor and Greg made sure the door was properly locked.
“You’ve never been so nervous before,” Tom whispered. “You’re being worse than the drug dealer I once worked for.”
“This place isn’t like Cali,” I said in a grim tone. “This is the city I grew up in. I wasn’t always so...” Out of a word to describe my current wardrobe choice, I heaved a frustrated breath and pointed at my clothes. “I don’t want anyone thinking they can make a fool of me again.”
“No one’s going to dare, ma’am,” said Tom, winking his blue eye at me. “Not if they want to claim a spot in your good book.” He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively.
