She makes a good point. It could be a valid project, not that I'd recommend anyone taking that risk. Catarina has a confident head on her shoulders, and if anyone can handle the backlash, it would be her. "Fine, I'll meet you in front of your house at 7:15."
Explaining this to Harlyn is not something I'm looking forward to, but she'll understand once she knows everything.
Chapter Fourteen
Francis Harlyn Aldridge
The chime of the doorbell echoes through the house, and I hear Anderson answer.
"Greetings, Mr. Freeman, Miss Aldridge, is expecting you. Please come in and have a seat."
Heels of what I expect are thousand-dollar dress shoes, click on the marble foyer, and stop at the bottom of the stairs. "There's no time for sitting Anderson; we're running a bit late. Harlyn, are you ready?" He asks, his deep timber flowing up toward the second floor.
"I'll be right down." My response is shaky as nerves twist my stomach in knots.
I should've pushed harder at going to the party alone. If there's even a slight possibility, Asher will be there, arriving with Lance will put whatever we started, in jeopardy.
I have a suspicion this night isn't going to end well.
Taking a deep breath, I rest my hand on the railing and begin my descent down the stairs—the small train of navy-blue silk dragging each step behind. When I reach the midway point of the arched staircase, and my gaze meets the raised brows and parted lips of Lance's shocked expression, I know this dress was the right choice.
"Damn, Harlyn, you look amazing."
Lance's words are kind, and I'm appreciative, but in the back of my mind, I wish it were Asher waiting for me at the base of the stairs, and it was him watching me the way Lance is now. "Thank you," I tell him, reaching for his elbow as I take the last step.
Just as we reach the door and are about to step through, Anderson stops us. "Your wrap Miss. The night might have a chill, and you wouldn't want to be unprotected." He says, directing his attention to Lance.
"Down boy," Lance says before stepping toward my butler and flipping his coat jacket aside, revealing his badge. "Need I remind you I'm a detective and I can protect Miss Aldridge just fine?"
"No, sir," Anderson replies, standing a bit taller and setting the younger man straight with his next words. "It's just a coat, sir."
My eyes roll at the testosterone-driven verbal battle. If this mild banter is any sign of how the rest of the night will be, then I have nothing to worry about. At least, I hope.
Stepping through the doors, I'm surprised to find a sleek black car awaiting us and not the muscle car Lance is always so proud to flaunt around town. "I thought we'd be riding in the silver bullet."
He chuckles. "Not in that dress, sweetheart. Tonight, I wanted to be the one who treated you like a princess. Plus, if I drove, my eyes would've been on the road and not on you."
I grip his arm before he reaches for the car door. "Lance, this isn't what you think. I'm going with you as a friend, not your girlfriend. If you can't accept that, then I'll just have Anderson take me." Turning, I prepare to do just that, but a hand rests on my shoulder, stopping me.
"I understand, Harlyn. I'll try and contain myself. Please, just get in the car. We're already later than I'd expected we'd be."
Glancing from the house to the car, I concede and climb in. He gives no reason for why he's in such a hurry, and I don't ask. I just want to get there, make an appearance, and slip out the back. If we leave early enough, there's still a chance, I can take Asher up on his offer of a tutoring session at home.
The ride is filled mostly with idle conversation. It sets my mind at ease, and I relax back in the seat. After what feels like only five minutes later, someone is shaking me. "Har? Harlyn…wake up we’re here."
My lashes flutter until my eyes adjust to the bright white lights strung all about the exterior of the city hall building. How could I have fallen asleep? This is totally unlike me; I'm generally able to survive on only a few hours of sleep.
"Close the door, Danny," Lance tells the driver.
Wait, did he just call the driver Danny? "What's going on…" My question is cut off by Lance's hand covering my mouth.
"Before you give me the third degree, let me explain. Ok?" He asks calmly. It's not until I nod my response, he releases his hand. "Good. There's no need to be upset. I know how you feel about Danny, but since I obviously can't afford a limo AND a driver, he volunteered. I've told him hands off Harlyn, both for tonight and any other time."
"Do you think he'll listen? Because we've done this before and at some point, he always reverts to his old ways." I huff out, crossing my arms but quickly set them in my lap when I catch Lance's eyes have lowered to my cleavage.
"I told him if he doesn't, I'll shoot him."
I laugh at his response but stop mid-breath when I realize his response wasn't a joke. "Ok, Lance, but I'm trusting you."
"Finally." He says, winking at me before grabbing the door handle and exiting the car, reaching for my hand.
We walk hand in arm to the entry doors where Lance hands the doorman our invitations, and he waves us in. Our heels click on the aged marble floor of the city hall's interior as we make our way to the ballroom.
When the double doors open, the room takes my breath away.
Round dining tables perfectly spaced around the room, each with meticulous place settings and centerpieces of abstract gold weaved around lit candles: a dance floor
