Special night.
1553 Words
JANE.
.
.
.
“Stay still, Jane,” Abby’s hands pulled at my black dress, she knelt on the worn out rug of our shared apartment, tugging the slit of my black dress even higher, sharper. “This has to be perfect.”
After she was done, she grabbed a brush, swiping blush on my cheeks, then shoved me toward the mirror with a satisfactory grunt.
The mirror reflected how I looked. My brown hair was let loose, falling from my shoulders. Silver earrings to match my silver purse, the black dress slit revealing a deeper part of my thighs and my dark heels to match.
I could see the nervousness in my grey eyes. I was scared.
Abby met my eyes, noticing the chills in my face. “Janet, you’re shaking. Chill.” She assured me.
I exhaled, fists tightening to somehow ease the tension. “What if this fails, Abby? Three years, after three good years, I’m finally walking into his life again. What if Ambrose sees the setup?”
She dropped the brush she was holding and grabbed my shoulders. “You’re not some pushover Jane. you’re a damn edge. We’ve tracked them for three years. We know their weakness and their strength. Ambrose is the play, and you’re ready. You’ve been building this since Leonard destroyed you. No backing off now, honey.”
I stared deep into her blue eyes, trying to catch any hint of uncertainty in her voice, but I found none. “He’s not like them,” I said, low. “He’s like this… this vault. What if I can’t break in?”
“You will,” she said, fiercely. “You’re Jane Motherfucking Dean tonight. You are solid, strong, smart and untouchable. He’ll chase you because you won’t fold. Trust it, Janie. This is yours.”
My throat locked as I struggled to swallow. But she was right. “Okay,” I said, firm. “Three years. Three years is not to waste. I’m doing it. I’m f*****g doing it tonight.”
She grinned, fixing my hair. “That’s it girl. Go get him.”
.
.
.
The Gallery buzzed under low lights as I stepped in, the auction party was already alive with sharp voices and beautiful faces. Music hit me first as I stepped in and I paused.
A few couples swayed in the center of the hall, a small dance routine that went along with the soft music playing. I leaned against a wall with my arms crossed, watching a woman in blue turn under her partner’s arm. It broke off fast, applause scattering, and I pushed forward, with confidence in my heart.
I stepped inside, and the air tensed. A wave of silence hit me as every eye snatched on me. I didn’t just enter… I invaded. The black dress shone even brighter, the slit was more open than I’d imagined, and my heels struck the marble with everything step I took. It was like I had this magnet on me that they couldn’t look away.
I ignored, and focused more on finding my target.
A man broke from a group of people and approached me, bowing low, his cologne filled the air as he spoke. “A dance, my dear? You look too exquisite to linger alone.”
I tilted my head, my grey eyes slicing through him. “And you’re too eager to assume I’m waiting.” I clapped back with a smile and stepped past, leaving him mid-bow, I didn’t even bother to watch his smile falter as I kept moving.
The air thickened the more I moved further into the hall, I could feel stares on me but I didn’t dare look so I don’t break down.
My eyes roamed through the staring eyes across the room, and as I turned to move to the left wing of the room, I caught a flicker at the edge of my vision.
It was him…
Ambrose Usher.
He stood apart, framed by a towering canvas, his hazel eyes glinting under the blue light, his dark hair swept back, his black suit was sculpted to his frame.
He didn’t flinch at the chaos surrounding the room, he didn’t even blink. He just watched me, like a hunter targeting its prey. I held his stare with my chin high, daring him to move first.
A lady’s voice broke our gaze as she moved to the podium to begin the bidding fully.“ Ladies and gentleman, we officially begin the bidding of our special items. First item, oil on canvas, ‘Storm Break.’ Opening at three thousand.”
Bids flew around… four, five, six… hands were up, trying to be the best bidder. I stayed still, scanning. I knew in my heart that my target was still looking at me, or waiting patiently for his moment to shine.
And the good news was, I was waiting for him too.
“Sold, seven,” she said, hammering down. “Next, a marble bust. Five thousand.” Six, eight, ten, no noise. “Sold, twelve.”
Then the third. “Bronze raven sculpture,” she said, lifting it wings wide. “Opening at five thousand.”
“Six,” I called, numbing the quiet, steady voice. Eyes shifted to me, but I held forward. If I want my plan to work, I need to stand out.
“Seven,” came a dark, low voice from the back. I glanced towards the voice, and there he stood.
Ambrose Usher.
His stare hit me, unflinching and I retained my stare, trying to look confident.
“Eight,” I said flatly, staring deep into his soul. I didn’t want to back down at first. If I want my plan to work, I need to stand out.
“Nine,” he countered, stepping up, voice calm but firm. The room tensed even more as the staring continued.
“Ten,” I shot back, hard, my pulse jumping. I didn’t want the thing actually… I wanted him snagged. I wanted him engrossed by my confidence.
“Fifteen,” he said again, a leap, gaze locked. His eyes were daring me but I didn’t move.
The auctioneer’s voice came next. “Sixteen?”
My eyes were still fixed on him but my heart was pounding. Sixteen was a huge amount of money, and I didn’t even have it at the moment. I needed to back down.
“Sixteen?” The auctioneer asked again.
I shrugged, stepping off.
“Sold to Mr. Usher,” she said, hammering down. He’d taken it, but I’d caught him… I knew it.
The first half ended after three more sessions of bidding, and I cut to the bar, ordering a neat gin. As I gripped the drink, a familiar voice hit me from behind.
“You held back,” The voice said. He was standing closely.
I turned, taking a sip of my gin to control my nerves, “No point in dragging it.”
“Ambrose Usher,” he said, no hand extended for a handshake, just that look of amusement in his eyes.
“K-” I hesitated, considering if I should say my real name or a fake. “Jane.” I smiled.
“Just Jane?” His brow rose.
“You always bid like it’s a war?” I ignored his question.
“Only when it’s worth it,” he said, leaning on the bar. “You didn’t seem moved.”
“Should I?” I said dryly. “It’s just a bird.”
“Then why play?” he asked, hazel eyes digging deep into my grey ones.
His rich cologne hit me with great force and I gulped, hesitant not to lose my cool. “To see who’d c***k,” I said, giving off a weird smile. “Guess you don’t.”
He tilted his head in amusement, a smirk flickering. “Are you a collector?” He asked.
I turned fully to him, giving off a weird smile. “More of an artist, actually.”
“Really?”
My eyes skimmed through the crowd to find my work, “See that painting over there?” He looked towards the direction I was pointing. “My work.”
“You don’t say,” he gave me a proud look as I owned my work. “I just got that art minutes ago.”
W-what?
“Maybe fate brought us together tonight.” He finished.
Yes, fate indeed.
“If you wanted that raven so bad, why not come see it? My villa in Frostmere, tomorrow. I’ll be hosting a private show.” He handed a red card from his suit pocket. “You’ll be impressed.”
I snorted. “Not my style.” This was what I ever wanted right? Why was I saying no?
As I moved to get away from him, he gripped me and pinned me to the bar. “Jane,” he said, showing me the card again. “Please…?”
I gulped and nodded, taking the card from him and straightening my dress as he released me.
He straightened too, fixing me with that damn smirk again. Taking my right hand in his, he bent to give it a kiss and said. “Eight p.m. I’ll have it there.”
I nodded.
- Writer
