A Night Of Regrets

Chapter 3:A Night Away

Joy checked in the small bathroom mirror, tugging on the black dress that clung a little too tightly to her figure-not hers, but borrowed from a friend at work, smelling faintly of cheap perfume. But tonight it will.

She was supposed to be a waitress for some charity gala, just one of those high-class uptown functions that really made her feel like she was living in an alien world of her own.

But tonight, she would be sharing the very room with the rich-though of course, serving them. For tonight, she would let go of reality and step into theirs, going unnoticed.

She pulled her hair back into a decent ponytail, smoothing the rest so that at least she didn't look a total mess. It had been months since she'd put on anything even remotely fancy.

On her way out the door, Joy stopped in to visit her mom. Mom sat up in bed, soft-smiling-a little more alive for once. She was excited for Joy-perhaps more than Joy herself was.

"How do I look, Ma?" Joy asked, pirouetting into the room.

Her mom straightened up in her chair then. "Oh, sweetie, you look beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."

She took Joy's hand in her own, speaking soft, in that hushed tone, full of pride sounding. "I'm so happy you're getting out tonight. You deserve it, you know. You work too hard."

"Don't hurry home," she replied, the grip of her hold on Joy's hand perceptibly tightening. "Have some fun, even if this is just work. It is nice for you to be with other people, different surroundings. You need a break."

Joy felt that old ache in her chest, knowing her mom was right, knowing too how hard it was to enjoy anything when the weight of the world was always there to press down on her. Yet for her mother's sake, she nodded.

"I'll try. I promise." She kissed her mother's cheek then stepped back. "Don't stay up too late waiting for me, okay?

Her mom just glowed at her. "I won't. But I'll be thinking of you all the time. Now go out there and knock 'em dead!"

A vision of wonder: a building stood tall, gleaming glass walls to perfection, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and oozing light. Joy had never seen anything like this. She went inside, carrying a tray of champagne flutes and feeling so out of place.

Everything here screamed money: beautiful gowns, fitted suits, very expensive trinkets sparkling beneath the soft glow of the lights.

She kept her head down, worked, and reminded herself it was just another job, another paycheck to help keep her and her mother afloat.

Yet even as she moved through a sea of faces, impossible not to be struck by a world so different from her own, she saw with ease how they could laugh, how holidays and portfolios were spoken about so offhandedly-the comfort with which these people moved about was another life.

The charity gala was in full flight; guests were milling, glasses of champagne clutched in one hand, small plates of appetizers held by the others, talking deals and donations.

She wove her way through the crowd and her eyes alighted on a figure right at the back of the room. Not only was commanding the only word that could possibly accurately describe him, but she recognised him instantly.

Robin Carrington.

She had remembered seeing his name on that heap of medical bills in her apartment, head of the very company which took care of her mother's hospital finances, a billionaire, one of the richest men in the city-a man to whom clenching or loosening of lives was well within his powers.

Joy stood abruptly stock-still, tray clutched in her hands, eyes fastened on him across the room.

Tall, his hair slicked back on his head, he seemed to wear a razor-cut, specially-tailored suit, addressing himself to a small coterie of listeners, face somber, every movement within the room calculated. The room seemed to revolve around him.

Her heart was racing in her chest. A man so far from her reality, yet who knew so much about the controlling of her destiny without any knowledge of the fact, did not even know her nor the name of her mother nor what struggle they had been facing. They were just numbers for him, another case among many.

Her hands slightly quivered, her eyes averted again to the task at hand. She couldn't afford to show emotion now, not here amongst all these people.

As the night wore on, Joy found herself getting drawn again and again into Robin's eyes-snatching every opportunity of viewing him across the room, he moved with such ease through the crowd, handshaking and laughing, commanding attention wherever he went.

And yet, something of him was removed. Smiling, speaking to the guests even, a coldness dwelled in his eyes-disconnected enough that one would merely glance at him and pass over, never to linger long.

She hated being consumed by him, hated knowing him this well when he had no inkling that she existed.

Finding herself at one moment near the stage on which the auction was to take place, carrying a tray of just-emptied glasses, she listened as the host introduced tonight's guest of honor.

"Ladies and gentlemen," exclaimed the compere in his well-modulated voice, "tonight we have with us the one because of whom it all was possible: Mr. Robin Carrington, whose instant generosity paid for this evening. Let us give him a warm round of applause!

Applause shot up the moment Robin appeared at center stage, but he didn't show an effect of it, appearing expressionless.

Joy had continued staring at him while her heartbeat fluttered over every tick of his. This man-this billionaire who could move mountains with his money-was right at the center now.

Tightness in the bottom of her chest; this thing he said about giving something in return-words which sounded true enough-and she could think of nothing but the bills with his firm's name on it, her sleepless night, the fear of losing it all.

And in that moment, Robin's eyes flashed around the room, and in that bat of an eyelash, it seemed his eyes rested upon hers. Joy's breath caught in her throat. Did he? Did he?

But in an even quicker instance-just that moment, as their eyes might have held-Robin reverted to scanning the room, his voice continuing with his speech like nothing had transpired.

Joy stood numb as Robin wrapped up and stepped off stage into applause.

Anger and confusion bubbled in an odd mix inside her.

There he was-the man responsible for her sleepless nights, for her mother's debt. Yet he had no idea who she was. No idea what his decisions had done to her life.

And she had no idea just how close their worlds were going to collide.