Chapter Four
1257 Words
Chapter Four
“And none of this would be possible without the stellar chefs and caterers who provided the meal for you this evening,” Trent said, standing in front of the crowd of two hundred people, still finishing off the remains of the chocolate éclairs.
Adalia stood with her arms at her sides, back straight and staring straight ahead. If she played this right, she might get more clients. If she didn’t, she’d likely lose the bakery.
Either way, it was pretty darn difficult to concentrate with Trent a few feet from her. That cologne was in the air, enticing her with the promise of dreams that night.
“I believe that children should have access to three basic needs,” Trent went on, confidence oozing from his every pore. He held up one finger and continued, “The need for food.”
Audience members nodded as if this was a breaking news special.
Trent’s middle finger came up to join his index. “The need for shelter.”
More nods of approval and low murmurs.
The ring finger appeared alongside the other two, and Adalia pressed her lips together, intrigued in spite of her skepticism. “The need for education.”
“With these three basic needs met, a child, no matter what his or her upbringing or background, has a fighting chance to succeed in life.” He turned to the side and pointed to a screen on the wall behind them. “Which is why we’ve decided to use your funds to build the Inner City Eat, Live and Learn Shelter for all kids, eighteen and under.”
An image of the proposed shelter appeared, and Adalia restrained a gasp. Trent Dawson had a lot of time, money or power – maybe all three – if he could help fund something like this.
It was brick-faced, but with grand entrances, a pool, sports center, basketball courts, dance studio and classrooms.
Trent continued his speech, picking up a laser pointer to indicate the facilities. “Here, the children will have room to board, a safe house if they have no other home or things at their homes aren’t what they should be.”
He moved the beam along the image and pointed toward the section of classrooms. “They’ll be tutored in various topics, including science, math, technology and literature. Everything a private school would offer.”
Trent paused and glanced toward Adalia, then moved the laser back to the center of the building. “And here, the children will learn how to cook and bake, giving them the opportunity to follow a culinary career path should they see fit.”
Her heart melted in her chest, and her knees shook a little, but she kept herself upright. This kind of thing brought tears to her eyes. She’d been one of those kids. Luckily, she’d had a father who’d worked every day to keep her in school. He’d taught her the lessons of hard work, hard knocks and following your dreams.
“Thanks to your generous donations, we can now make this dream a reality and give hope to children across the city.” Trent Dawson finished without bells or whistles. He simply switched the pointer off and placed it on the podium beside him. It didn’t roll off onto the plush red carpet.
The audience applauded, rising to their feet, and Trent nodded and waved, but didn’t make a big show of himself. He simply gestured to the band, which struck up a chord and the music began.
There was a shrill squeal of delight in the crowd, followed by several gasps. Lana Del Ray, the famous singer, was on the stage, swaying from side-to-side. She sang Ultraviolence, and Adalia’s eyes widened. It was one of her favorites.
“Thank you for coming today,” Trent said, closing in on her with the future in his gaze. He had her attention now, and he could see it. She couldn’t help be taken in by his goals, his choice in music and that heady scent.
It made her feel weak, and she was anything but that.
“Thank you for inviting me.” There was no other reply to this.
“Hopefully this brings in a couple customers to that bakery of yours.”
“Is that why? I thought it was because you wanted to show off your inner city dream.” Adalia couldn’t help the hostility. She needed him to know she wasn’t easy, she wasn’t some blonde assistant bimbo who’d cave to his every need.
I love you the first time
I love you the last time
Yo soy la princesa, comprenda mis white lines
Cos I’m your jazz singer
And you’re my cult leader
Lana Del Rey’s dulcet tones filled the blanks in their conversation, giving meaning to what Adalia felt. Or what she thought she felt. How was it possible to be this attracted to a man from another world, from another time, from a place she couldn’t follow? Not because she wasn’t good enough, but because he wouldn’t want her to.
She was not a follower.
Trent moved toward her and held out a hand. “Dance with me.”
“What’s the magic word?” Adalia folded her arms.
“I wasn’t asking.”
“That’s your catchphrase.”
He grabbed her and pulled her in close to whisper in her ear. “Have I caught you?”
“Mr. Dawson,” Michelle Van Heerden called over the heads of the crowd. They swayed and danced in time to the music, and the song changed. “Trent,” she said again, but he didn’t pull away from Adalia.
Instead, he lowered his lips to her neck and breathed on her skin, tracing a line from her collar bone up to her ear. “Have I caught you?”
Adalia had disappeared, replaced by a woman she barely knew, one who wanted nothing more than to feel Trent’s embrace, his hands on her body. Michelle was near now, clacking across the floor in her stilettos until she reached the carpeted area they stood on.
“Have I caught you?” he asked a third time.
“No,” Adalia replied, every nerve screamed at her, begging for his touch. “You can’t catch the wind.” She detached from him, breaking the connection she’d believed impossible.
She didn’t know anything more than his name, and the fact that he was arrogant, but it was as if she’d been with him before. Known his touch, seen forever in those bright blue eyes.
“Trent,” Michelle sighed, sidling up to them with assurance. “Everyone is dying to talk to you about the project. They’re overwhelmed by the thought of it.”
“Overwhelmed is hardly the correct term,” he replied, irritation snipping the words off.
Adalia backed off slowly. She didn’t need another embarrassing encounter with the chic Ms. Van Heerden and her boss.
Michelle nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” Then she slipped her arm through his and gripped his bicep. “Though, I must say the entire event went off without a hitch.” She prattled on and Trent didn’t pay attention to her.
“It’s thanks to the chefs and caterers, like Adalia,” he replied, smiling.
“Oh, yes, of course. But the planning, the time and effort you put in? That’s priceless. It was an honor working with you on this one. Congratulations, sir,” she murmured, shooting a triumphant glance at Adalia. She craned her neck upward and kissed him on the cheek, near that flawless jawline covered in stubble.
That jealousy from earlier came back, amplified tenfold. This was bad. This was too much to handle after DeShawn. She’d been right about Trent. He was obviously a player and involved with Van Heerden.
Trent frowned and moved away from Michelle, but it was too late.
“Adalia, come back here.” It was a blatant command, and she blatantly ignored it. Adalia Montclair was not a pushover. She tucked the anger and hurt into her core.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Dawson.” Adalia called back as she gave a formal nod, then turned and strolled back to the kitchens.
- Writer
