Page 89 of The Renter
Dani Sommer
Going to a gala tonight in Monique Lhuillier.
Kelsey Wagner
You look insane!
Sam Johnson
Stunning! Don’t mind me being jealous. That dress definitely costs more than my wedding dress.
Sarah Meyer
Hottie!
Dani Sommer
I don’t know how celebrities do it. Sitting in a hair and makeup chair for hours every day. So boring!
Sam Johnson
Literally playing you the tiniest violin right now.
“What’s that face?” Nikola asks.
“Nothing,” I lie. I should have only texted the photo to Kelsey. Now, I feel bad about Sam’s reaction.
“Are you sure this dress isn’t, like, over the top?” I ask Nikola, admiring the floor-length halter top gown with a floral print.
“You’re going to the Lyric Opera House for a black-tie event. No.”
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As I head to the Lyric Opera House in a Town Car, I remind myself to only have two drinks. I’m still a little embarrassed about being drunk at Kent’s birthday party. Stepping out of the car, I’m thankful for Nikola’s insistence on the most formal option she brought. My dress is definitely not over the top for the crowd.Nikola knows best.
My phone lights up with a message from Adam.
Adam Harris
Two minutes away.
I wait outside on the sidewalk, observing the sea of people. It’s a unique mix of worker bees leaving their office jobs and people arriving in luxury cars in black-tie attire.
“Dani,” Declan greets me, his tone flat.
“Declan.” His quick glance over me and subsequent smile make me smirk.I feel hot … I’m also sober.Can he tell?
Declan continues walking in, not saying another word.Where’s the banter?I push down the feeling that I’m a little sad he didn’t talk to me more. An emotionless interaction with Declan. How bizarre.
Then Adam arrives, and his reaction is everything. “Dani,” he growls, and I’m happy Adam thinks I look hot. I can’t help but to eye fuck him too. He always looks good, but tonight, in a tuxedo, he looks too good.
We make our way inside, navigating through the crowd. The gala’s atmosphere is filled with the clinking of champagne glasses. The high ceiling, ornate with intricate designs, and the elegant lighting cast a warm glow over the crowd. There are easily three hundred people here.
When we reach the check-in, Adam doesn’t say anything, like he’s expecting recognition. I giggle and nudge him playfully. “Harris,” he says after a moment, and the attendant hands us a brochure and a paddle for the auction. Adam leans down, whispering, “I’m using this later.” I laugh, hoping he does. As we enter the main room, Adam looks at me. “We have a lot of hands to shake. Are you ready?”
“Ready.”
Adam interlaces his fingers with mine and guides us into the crowd. Extending his hand, he says, “Governor, always a pleasure. We need to continue our conversation next week.” I sense a tension between them.
