Page 8 of Take Me Under

As if sensing my nerves, Anton squeezed my hand. I shifted my eyes to meet his intense gaze. My nerves didn’t abate but seemed to shift focus. The heat in his stare made me restless in ways I wasn’t sure I wanted to be, and I flushed.

“Trustfall,” he reminded me quietly.

I smiled when he released my hand and moved his to the small of my back. It had been so long since anyone had touched me that way. I’d nearly forgotten how much I loved and appreciated the intimate gesture. I’d only just met him, but somehow, this stranger stirred a part of me that I’d long considered dead.

Asserting just a slight amount of pressure, he gave me an encouraging nudge. I walked through the entrance to the Costume Institute, and an otherworldly spectacle opened up before me. A gasp escaped my lips as I scanned the room. I felt as if I were Alice venturing through a looking glass into an extraordinary wonderland.

Floor lamps with shades crafted from enormous palm leaves were strategically placed around the periphery. A stunning centerpiece of four majestic elephants striped with rosy hues stood at the center of the room. They reared on their hind legs, gracefully perched atop a brilliant yellow base with their trunks raised high in perfect alignment. The elephants were constructed from tens of thousands of vibrant blooms arrangedin a kaleidoscope of colors towering at least twenty-five feet high.

At the far end of the room, a triangle stage decorated with more lavish flowers hosted a band of musicians. The lead singer swayed with the microphone, a popular Billie Eilish song falling from her lips. Her voice was low and honeyed, the kind that wraps around you and makes the world fade away. The smooth and steady rhythm only seemed to amplify the lush atmosphere.

The scene was a bit outlandish yet truly breathtaking. It was the very definition of luxury, and unlike anything I had ever seen.

“Wow,” I breathed quietly, and then turned to express my amazement to Anton.

However, before I could comment further, I was interrupted by a squeal followed by a familiar French accent.

“Ahhh! There you are, Serena!”

Startled, I turned toward the voice as Madeleine Toussaint approached me. I smiled, happy to see her.

“Hello, Madeleine,” I said. She didn’t have a train of chiffon trailing behind her. Instead, she wore a black rhinestone studded pantsuit. It was stylish yet practical, and more importantly, easy to maneuver in. While I was beyond grateful for everything Madeleine had done to get me here tonight, it would have been nice if I could have worn a less restrictive outfit. “Why have you dressed me up like a red cupcake, but you get to wear a sensible pantsuit?”

“Because tonight is not about me,ma chérie. It’s about you,” she declared in a matter-of-fact tone. She reached out to delicately lift the ruby heart pendant at my neck. She examined it for a moment before nodding her approval. Then, glancing toward Anton, she seemed to notice him for the first time. She gave him an appreciative once over. “Are you going to introduce me to your handsome date?”

“This is Anton,” I said, suddenly realizing that I’d nevercaught his last name. “Anton, this is Madeleine Toussaint, my dress designer and a family friend.”

He extended a hand to her. “I’m delighted to meet you, Ms. Toussaint.”

She raised a perfectly shaped brow. “Oh, I can assure you,monsieur. The joy is all mine.”

When she batted her eyes, I nearly rolled mine but smiled with amusement instead. Even at the age of fifty-nine, she was a constant flirt. My mother would say it wasn’t flirting, but just her French coming out—whatever that meant.

“Anton isn’t my date. He and I just met on my way here.”

“Ah, I see,” Madeleine said with a nod. “I was waiting for you near the main staircase. I do not know how you managed to evade me!”

“I wanted to avoid the cameras, so I entered through a side door,” I explained. She clucked her tongue at me in response.

“Pish posh. You are absolutely stunning. You were made to be captured on camera, and it does nothing for me if you aren’t seen. I don’t want you avoiding them all night.”

My stomach tightened nervously at the reminder that she needed pictures of me wearing her esteemed dress. I hated having my picture taken. I must have had a mental lapse when I promised to pose tonight, but offered my assurance, nonetheless.

“I won’t, Madeleine.”

“Good girl. Now, turn for me so I can see all of you.”

I playfully rolled my eyes and indulged her with a quick spin. Or at least, I attempted to. The train of my dress made it difficult to move with any haste. A sigh of frustration escaped my lips as I wondered if this was how Cinderella felt—all dressed up yet feeling more at ease in tattered rags. All I knew was that I couldn’t wait for the moment when I could shed my glass slippers.

I attempted to flex my toes in the restrictive five-inch heels. My feet weren’t actually encased in glass, but they sure felt likeit. I seriously wondered how much longer I would be able to remain upright in the accursed shoes.

“Oh, Serena Martinelli, you are a vision,” Madeleine said wistfully.

“I decided to splurge on hair and makeup at the last minute, and?—”

“I’m sorry, but did you say Martinelli?” Anton interrupted.

I stopped the awkward twirl and glanced his way.

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