Cruel Fortune (Cruel 2)

We were whisked the scant blocks up to The Plaza, and Lewis helped me out into the cold. We rushed across the snowy sidewalk and up the steps that led into the historic twenty-story building that occupied the prestigious space on the corner of Fifth and Central Park South.

Lewis dusted snow out of my hair and off my coat. “It’s practically a New York City blizzard out there.”

“I am not fully equipped for it.”

He drew me in for a quick kiss and then walked through the lobby and into the foyer that led into the Grand Ballroom. The interior of the ballroom was decorated with thousands of red and white flowers. The classical style of the ballroom was highlighted with the intimate chandelier and flickering candlelight. The entire effect was effervescent and utterly romantic. I had to hold my breath to capture the entire image in my head.

Lewis put his hand on my arm to hold me from walking out of the foyer. I glanced up at him in question.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“Well, more for us tonight.”

He removed a small plastic card from his pocket. He passed me the card with The Plaza logo stamped onto it. And, suddenly, I understood.

“You got us a hotel room?”

He shrugged. “I thought it would be romantic. A way to reset.”

Reset was an interesting word choice. I knew why he’d done this, of course. I had been more cautious about our relationship since all of that had come out. I hadn’t been staying at his apartment like I had before. I was the kind of person who lived by the motto, If someone shows you who they are, believe them.

It was why I still didn’t trust Penn. Why I detested Katherine. I couldn’t stomach Camden. And now, I’d never be able to look Edward Warren in the face.

But Lewis…I just felt unease about his actions. I wanted to move on from them. Reset, as he’d said. Maybe this would be the way to do it.

I pocketed the key and smiled up at him. “It’s a good idea.”

He grinned from ear to ear, wrapped his arm around me, and directed me through the doors to the reception. We gave a host Lewis’s name and were immediately directed to our table. As we got closer through the maze of tables, it became quite clear who was also seated at our table.

“Shit,” Lewis muttered.

Neither of us had considered it.

Katherine had put the crew together.

Penn and Rowe were already seated at the table along with a model, who appeared to be Rowe’s date, and four other people I didn’t recognize. There were three vacant seats. One between Penn and Rowe. One for Lewis. And one…for me.

Katherine must not have even looked at the guest list. Or the seating chart. Because my name was even printed on the card in sweeping gold letters. Right between Penn and Lewis.

I hesitated before stepping forward. I swallowed back my rising unease about coming here. It’d be so easy to turn around and walk out the door. Instead, I pulled my chair out and took a seat.

The table was silent. Everyone waiting for someone else to make a move. The other five people were oblivious to what was going on. Though I had no idea how they couldn’t feel the tension in the moment.

“Uh,” Rowe said, leaning forward on an elbow, “this is awkward, right? I’m not making this up?”

Lewis snorted. “Social cues.”

I cracked a smile. Rowe sure knew how to cut the tension even if he was just pointing out the obvious.

“Where’s your date?” I asked, gesturing to the empty seat at Penn’s side.

His blue eyes gazed back into mine, as if to say, That would be you. Instead, he said, “I never RSVP’d. Katherine just assumed.”

“Oh.”

“And you couldn’t ask one of the many beautiful women you’ve been seen with?” Lewis asked, leaning forward. “Who was that one brunette you were with all the time? Shelly?”

“Chelle is my teaching assistant,” Penn ground out.

“Yeah. Nothing going on with her?”

“That would be unethical.” His response was dead and flat.

Lewis shrugged. “Never stopped you before.”

“So,” I interjected at that. I shot Lewis a look of distress. “How about this place? Really something.”

“You’ve seen one wedding in the Grand Ballroom, you’ve seen them all,” the woman to Rowe’s left said to me. She was a standard unit of buxom blonde model. The kind Rowe tended to favor. “But your dress is gorgeous. I saw that at Bergdorf and am kicking myself for not trying it on.”

“Seconded,” said one of the other women at the table. “So jealous.”

I blinked, surprised by the attention. I’d loved the purple off-the-shoulder dress with its old Hollywood feel. The way it’d hugged everything while still looking classy and sophisticated. I hadn’t expected people to be jealous of it.

“Thank you,” I said.