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A male attendant in a black uniform and white gloves opened the door and offered his hand to help me out of the car. Oliver quickly followed, thanking the attendant and taking my hand.
We ascended a set of stairs, where another attendant opened the double front doors, welcoming us into a grand foyer illuminated by a huge crystal chandelier. Our coats were taken, and we were given tickets in exchange.
The brownstone was elegantly decorated with walls adorned with art that, to my untrained eye, looked authentic. Jazz music filled the air, and Oliver tucked my arm under his, leading me further inside. Waitstaff dressed in black circulated with silver trays of appetizers and champagne.
The floors were made of dark, rich wood, and above us were ivory-colored pressed tin ceilings. A curving staircase with iron railings led to the second floor, which Oliver had mentioned housed eight bedrooms. But we weren’t going upstairs. The open floor plan was crowded with partygoers dressed in fashionable dresses and tuxedos.
Oliver grabbed two flutes of champagne off a passing tray and handed me one. I drank half the glass in one gulp.
“Sweetheart, calm down,” he murmured, his voice soothing.
“These are your friends,” I said, feeling the nerves creep in.
He leaned into my ear, his breath warm. “Do I have to take you upstairs?”
My face reddened at the thought of Oliver and I sneaking away for a tryst while the party continued below. “God no. That would be embarrassing.”
“We’ll see,” he said with a mischievous grin, taking a sip of his champagne. It was clear he was considering using one of those eight bedrooms before the night was over.
“No,” I said firmly, though my resolve wavered under his playful gaze.
Our conversation was interrupted when Dax approached with his date. He was dressed in a white tuxedo with black lapels, and his date, a redhead with what I suspected were fake breasts, wore a skimpy black gown that showed off the top of her ass.
"Hey, you two."
Dax leaned in to kiss my cheek, then backed away to shake Oliver's hand. He introduced us to his date, Candy. I could have guessed her name. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Dax put his arm around her waist and pulled her away to meet some other friends. The last time I saw them, his hand was sliding down her back.
"That's quite a dress," I remarked, raising an eyebrow.
Oliver leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "It makes her look cheap, but Dax likes them easy. It wouldn't surprise me if he disappears upstairs with her."
We circulated the party, and as Oliver introduced me to some of his friends, my nerves began to ease. I even felt comfortable enough to nibble on some of the appetizers being circulated.
An hour later, we were sitting on a moss green velvet sofa talking with Ivan and his date, a former model. She was stunning with long, flowing honey-colored hair, statuesque and down-to-earth. We shared a conversation about the Vicarias since she had modeled for them before.
As midnight approached, I was feeling tipsy from the several glasses of champagne I had drunk. I also had to use the restroom. I interrupted Oliver’s conversation with a business associate to ask where it was.
“Do you want me to go with you?” he offered, his concern evident.
“I can manage. Just point me in the right direction.”
Once I had an idea where I was going, I headed there, only to run into the one person I didn’t wish to see—Lara. She was elegantly dressed in a short gold sequined dress, much like mine. She narrowed her eyes as I approached.
“Well, Oliver’s little fiancée. I didn’t think you would be here,” she sneered.
I stood up straighter and looked her right in her green eyes. “Why not?”
“Oliver told me you’re a homebody. It seems you’ve turned him into one too. Boring.”
"Excuse me?" I snapped, my voice sharper than intended.
"Boring. He used to be a party boy, but you’ve changed him for the worse," Lara repeated, a smug smile playing on her lips.
"Why would he need to go out when he has me?" I shot back, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I’m sure you’re not as exciting as he needs. You’ll see. Eventually, he’ll tire of you. I don’t give your marriage long," she taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.
My blood began to boil, and I felt a fierce urge to scratch her eyes out. "Your jealousy is showing. You had your chance, but he didn’t want you."
