Ambition Page 13

had four more places to see. One of them had to be as good. Still, I hated kowtowing to Noelle. Especially with the sting of Dash's

  name still searing my skin. But what else could I do?

  "Fine," I said through my teeth. "Let's just go." As we said goodbye to an understandably confused Lucas (I think he'd noticed our

  collective drool), I realized that even this far away from Easton, I wasn't completely free of my drama. Until Noelle had mentioned his

  name, I had forgotten that Dash was supposed to be in the city this weekend. That he and Noelle were supposed to have dinner with

  his parents. Would he pick her up at our room? Would tonight be the first night I laid eyes on Dash McCafferty since the Legacy--the

  night he'd laid his eyes all over me? So much for my focus.

  MAYBE PRINCE

  Noelle couldn't stop checking out her own ass. As soon as we'd returned to the suite at the hotel, she'd taken a shower and then

  come out wearing a black dress that looked staid and conservative from the front with its high neckline, but had such a low-cut back

  that you could practically see the top of her butt crack. For the past fifteen minutes she'd been standing with her back to the mirror,

  craning her neck so that she could study the effect. "Dash is a butt man," she explained. "You'd think he'd be a boob man, but he's to-

  tally not." She finally turned around to smooth her hair. As I sat on the edge of my double bed, all I wanted to do was grab a chunk of

  her brown locks and tear. She had been talking about nothing but Dash for the past hour. About how he had booked them a separate

  room in the hotel so they could be alone later. About how it had been so long since they'd been together that he wasn't going to be able

  to keep his hands off of her. It all made me so vilely ill I was growing belligerent. I wanted Josh, not Dash. I did. But I was so sick of

  hearing about how much Dash wanted Noelle. So sick. "Why would you think he'd be a boob man?" London asked, clicking off her

  cell phone. She looked down at her own mega-breasts, as if assessing whether they could ever grab Dash's attention. Vienna was in the

  corner, trying to wheedle free champagne for the photo shoot out of some vendor who'd done her mother's third wedding.

  "Look at his father," Noelle said. "He may act all proper and upright all the time, but he's had several mistresses over the years and

  every one of them? Double-D's. At least." Now I had to glance down at my own flattish chest. The fact that Dash had been attracted to

  me at all did kind of prove he was a butt guy. But of course, I couldn't weigh in. "So you think sexual preference runs in the family?"

  Sabine asked, holding a dress up to herself as she looked in the smaller of our two mirrors. "Like it's genetic?" Noelle rolled her eyes.

  "I wasn't trying to be scientific, Frenchie. I was just talking." Sabine blushed and went into the bathroom to change her clothes. Yet

  another of Noelle's pointless jabs had hit home. What was her damage? "So, I really think we should go with Loft Blanc," Noelle said,

  grabbing her lip gloss and leaning toward the mirror. "It's the hottest new venue in town. People will be beyond impressed if they see

  it on the invite." Loft Blanc was this admittedly amazing space in the Meatpacking

  District with high ceilings, huge windows overlooking the Hudson, and an incredible collection of modern art adorning its otherwise

  stark walls. It also had outdoor, rooftop space, but considering I was 0 for 2, with rooftops in the past year, that wasn't much of a sell-

  ing point for me. Besides, it was November. Who wanted to mingle on a rooftop in New York in November?

  "We've already been through this. There's no way we're having it there," I told her, getting up and whipping my navy blue dress out

  of the closet. "Move on already." Noelle paused with her lip gloss wand on her bottom lip. She shot me an annoyed look in the mirror,

  then slowly closed the tube, put it down, and turned to face me. "Okay, that's it," she snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. In the

  mirror, her dress shifted enough so that I actually could see her butt crack. If Dash's mother was anywhere near as uptight as her rep-

  utation indicated, she was just going to love that dress. "What is your problem today?"

  "I don't have a problem," I said, yanking my sweater off over my head. "You're the one with the problem. We're supposed to be

  making money on this thing, remember? Raising five million dollars? We can't spend five million if we want to make five million." I

  shoved my jeans to the floor and stepped into the dress, zipping it up the side. Then I went over to the full-length mirror, subtly nudg-

  ing Noelle aside, and started brushing through my hair like I was trying to bald myself. Sabine returned from the bathroom, looking

  simply elegant in a dark gray sheath. "Everything okay?" she asked me. "Fine," I said through my teeth. "Reed, I thought I was here to

  help you make the right decision. I think we can all agree I know more about these things than you do." Noelle walked over to her

  dresser and selected a pair of diamond earrings from her small Herve Leger bag. "You don't have to insult her," Sabine said, irked.

  "I wasn't. I was merely stating a fact," Noelle replied. Sabine squared her shoulders and turned toward Noelle. "It sounded like an

  insult to me." And to me. But I didn't say so. London got up and quietly slipped from the room, while Vienna continued to battle it out

  on the phone, oblivious to the rising tension. "Reed, haven't you ever heard that old adage, 'You have to spend money to make mon-

  ey'?" Noelle asked, ignoring Sabine and training her attention on me. "Or is there so little cash where you come from, the phrase never

  happened to trickle down?" "See! Another insult!" Sabine pointed out, lifting her hand. My face was burning at this point, but I was

  used to that. I was used to Noelle's barbs. I knew they didn't really mean anything. It was just her way. Still, the fact that Sabine was

  so offended on my behalf made them sting a bit more than usual. "We don't have any money to spend, Noelle," I said, dropping my

  brush on the vanity with a clatter. "I say we go with the St. Sebastian. It was a beautiful space and much more traditional. The older

  alumni will appreciate it." The St. Sebastian was this ancient, converted church with an arcing ceiling and beautiful stained glass win-

  dows looking down from above. When the proprietor showed us photos of the many ways they had transformed the space for wed-

  dings, album launches, and fund-raisers, I was sold. Plus it was reasonable. As reasonable as one could get in NYC. Noelle, of course,

  thought it had been done. "Fine. We'll do it your way," Noelle said. She spritzed a cloud of perfume, then stepped through it. "But

  we're going to spend more money dressing that place up than we would if we simply went with Loft Blanc."

  At that moment the doorbell to our suite rang. My heart all but stopped. "I'll get it!" London shouted from her bedroom on the op-

  posite side of the sunken living room. "Dash is here," Noelle said, grabbing her clutch purse and a sheer silver cardigan off the vanity.

  "We can talk more about this later." Dash was here. Dash was here. Dash was here. The moment Noelle was out of the room, I dou-

  ble-checked my hair and gave myself a quick powder, blush, and lip gloss makeover. "Finally I get to meet the famous Dash McCaf-

  ferty. Is he as big a bitch as his girlfriend?" Sabine asked. I rolled my eyes, shoved my feet into my shoes, and walked unsteadily out

  to the living area of our suite, my ankles teetering thanks to the thick carpet and my nerves. Noelle was halfway to the door. London

  was just about to open it. Vienna came tearing out of my room behind me, phone closed
now, and rushed to London's side, all smiles.

  What the heck were those two up to? Not that I cared much at the moment. All I could think was that Dash was behind that door.

  What would he say to me? What would I say to him? Would Noelle be able to tell what had happened between us?

  London whipped open the door and everyone froze. The guy standing on the threshold was not Dash McCafferty. He was, in fact,

  Dash's physical opposite. Tall, sure, but tan. Dark. Lean. With long black hair that just skimmed the bottom of his earlobes. Dominic

  Infante. Dominic Infante and a single purple orchid in a white ceramic pot. He glanced around at each of us, dotted as we were around

  the room, and stopped on me. "Reed. You look lovely," he said, holding out the orchid. Whahuh? "Look what we imported just for

  you!" London announced. She and Vienna flanked the door like a pair of game-show models showing off the latest prize. Noelle

  glanced back at me over her shoulder, amused. "Guess someone else has a date tonight," Noelle said. Realizing it was my turn to

  speak, I took a few steps forward. "You came all the way down here from school just for me?" I asked Dominic.

  He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on my legs, my hips, my chest, and then my face. "Wouldn't you?" My heart actual-

  ly fluttered. "Damn. Good answer," Noelle said behind me. Dominic handed the potted orchid to me, and London whisked it right out

  of my hands. "Shall we?" Dominic said, stepping aside to make room in the doorway. I looked at London and Vienna and their insane

  Cheshire grins and knew there was no way I could turn this down. Not without a fight. And why would I want to? Why not get out of

  here before the torture of seeing Dash and Noelle together could occur? Why not hit New York with a gorgeous Italian maybe-prince?

  This weekend was supposed to be about distraction. About getting away. I could think of no better method of escape. I smiled and

  grabbed my coat. "I guess we shall."

  PART OF THE FAMILY

  "This place is incredible," I said to Dominic, laying my long, flat menu aside. When we had arrived at the small restaurant, tucked

  away in the West Village, it hadn't looked like much. Just a brick basement in someone's brownstone. But once inside, we had been

  ushered through the small, cozy dining area and out onto this even cozier patio, where only a dozen intimate tables were placed among

  the trees that grew right out of the brick beneath our feet. There were heat lamps placed around the periphery to ward off the Novem-

  ber chill, and white twinkle lights were strung from the tree branches overhead. I couldn't believe places like this existed in Manhattan.

  "I'll tell my cousin you said so," Dominic replied. "Your cousin?"

  "Yes. My cousin Antony owns this place," Dominic said casually. His accent really was alluring. "There is usually a long wait list

  to get in, but when I told him of your beauty, he managed to clear a table for us."

  I blushed as I looked across the tiny table at him. Dominic had been saying things like this ever since we left the hotel, but I

  couldn't tell if he was serious, or if he was just feeding me lines. But then, what did it matter? I could use the ego boost either way. "I

  was thinking that after this I might take you to a couple of my usual places," Dominic said, placing his menu down. "Usual places?" I

  asked. "Clubs. Have you done the club scene?" he asked. "Um, no," I replied. "And I'm not really sure I should. I have to get up kind

  of early in the morning." "Well, you could always just stay up all night," Dominic replied with a smile. A suggestive smile? "That's

  what I usually do." "We'll see," I replied. Time for a subject change. I didn't want to know what he thought we would do if we stayed

  up together all night. "So, is your cousin here? I'd love to meet him."

  "He promised to bring out his special dessert for us personally." Dominic took a sip of his white wine and smiled. "If we make it

  through the first four courses. The service here is truly Italian. Which means excessive." My stomach grumbled as a delicious -looking

  dish was carried past our table. "Sounds good to me. I'm starving," I replied. Dominic smiled. "A girl with an appetite. Are you sure

  you go to Easton?" I laughed and felt myself truly start to relax for the first time all night. Suddenly I felt grateful to London and Vi-

  enna for blindsiding me with this date. If I had gone out for dinner with the two of them and Sabine, I was sure the conversation would

  have centered around the fund-raiser and maybe even Cheyenne. Maybe they would even have gotten around to asking me what hap-

  pened with Josh. But here I was simply being showered with compliments and attention. A much more satisfying way to spend an

  evening. "Actually, you'd be surprised by how much the girls in Billings can put away," I told him. "Just a couple of days ago we--"

  My cute little anecdote died on my tongue as I heard familiar voices just on the other side of the patio door. I had about half a sec-

  ond to prepare before Noelle stepped out into the courtyard, with Dash's hand on her waist. I felt as if the bricks were falling away be-

  neath the legs of my chair. So much so that I actually gripped my armrests for support. Dash. Dash's lips, Dash's hands, Dash's eyes,

  Dash's longing desperation. Suddenly every image, every feeling, everything from the night of the Legacy came rushing back, hitting

  me like a tidal wave to the chest. Dominic and I had scored the back corner table, and in the dim light Noelle had yet to spot us, but

  Dash had. He had looked right into my eyes the second he arrived, as if he had expected me to be there. But then he tripped. He braced

  himself on one of the tree trunks to keep from going down. My heart was in my throat. Okay. So maybe he hadn't entirely forgotten

  that night. "Dash! Are you all right?" his mother asked. She could only be his mother. Tall. Blond. Perfectly manicured and coiffed.

  Then his father, the spitting image of Dash, but with salt-and-pepper hair. , "Just a couple of days ago you... ?" Dominic prodded, un-

  aware that anything was amiss.

  Noelle finally figured out where Dash was looking and spotted me. I endeavored to smile. She whispered something to Dash's par-

  ents and they all looked over. Dash cleared his throat about ten times and straightened his tie. Finally, at the obvious prodding of his

  mother, he cleared it one last time, squared his shoulders, and walked over to us. Omigod. Omigod, omigod, omigod. "Is something

  wrong?" Dominic asked. "Dash," I said through my teeth. "What?" "Dash McCafferty is here," I said. Dominic looked up just as Dash

  arrived at our table. "Reed. Dom. How are you guys?" Dash asked, his tone formal. "McCafferty!" Dominic cheered, getting up to hug

  his former dormmate. "How are you? How is everything at Yale?" Thank God Dominic knew him. If I had been forced to speak first,

  I might have thrown up on Dash's extremely buffed shoes. As the two of them briefly caught up, I stared at the underside of Dash's

  chiseled chin, a thousand questions flooding my mind. Why haven't you called? What the hell happened that night? Why did you get

  back together with Noelle ? When ? And why do you have to be So. Effing. Hot?

  Not that I could have said any of those things with Dominic there and Noelle looking on. Not that I could have said any of those

  things without dying of mortification even if Dash and I had been alone. "Reed," Dash said finally, turning toward me. I looked up at

  him. My many queries must have been blatantly readable in my eyes, because I stopped him cold. "I..." His jaw worked. "You look... I

  mean, it's been a while." "Not that long," I heard myself say. A pang of something crossed his fa
ce. Regret? Annoyance? It was im-

  possible to tell. And then Noelle swooped in. Her coat had been removed, but she wore the light, open-weave cardigan over her dress,

  camouflaging her butt crack, apparently, until she could get Dash alone. "Hundreds of restaurants in Manhattan and here you are!" she

  said gaily, taking Dash's hand. "What are the chances?" "I'm glad you decided on this one," Dominic said politely. "You're in for a

  wonderful meal." "Well. Let's get to it then," Noelle said. "You two have fun!" She practically dragged Dash away, but not before he

  was able to say one last thing over his shoulder. "See you guys at the fund-raiser." And that was that.

  Noelle and Dash joined his parents at their table in the opposite corner. Mercifully, the two of them sat with their backs to us or I

  would have never made it through the meal. Still, I couldn't help glancing over every now and then and noticing how comfortable

  Noelle looked with his parents. Touching his dad's arm, making jokes with his mom. As if she was already part of the family. Seeing

  Noelle and Dash together, I couldn't help but imagine what the rest of my night would be like. Best-case scenario? I returned to the

  suite and Noelle came back alone to gush about her dinner with the McCaffertys. Worst-case scenario? Tomorrow at brunch I'd hear

  about the hours Noelle and Dash had spent in their suite, sharing their mutual admiration for the female backside. Ew. "You know

  what, Dominic? I'm in," I said. His eyebrows shot up. "For what?" "The clubs," I said, reaching for my wine. "I'd love to check out

  your usual places."

  UNDER THE INFLUENCE

  Dominic danced with a champagne bottle gripped in one hand and the other hand locked around my waist. From the moment we

  stepped through the doors of Platinum--a place where nothing related to the name aside from the fact that everyone there was con-

  stantly whipping out their platinum credit cards to pay for insanely overpriced bottles of alcohol--he had not been without a bottle.

  Had he been working on the same one all night, or was this his second? It couldn't be his third. No one could consume that much with-

  out regurging. Although from the way his brown eyes swam in their sockets, I wouldn't have been totally shocked if that was the case.

  "Having fun?" he asked, his face looming ever so close to mine. Even with that proximity, it was difficult to hear him over the

  deafening music. "Absolutely!" The DJ was amazing, after all. And the dancing was a release, as long as Dominic wasn't breathing in

  my face. Everywhere I looked I saw vaguely familiar faces. Models, rap artists, rock stars, young socialites. Champagne flowed, di-

  amonds flashed, girls squealed and posed for pictures. I wondered how many of these moments would end up eternalized in the

  tabloids the next morning. "Reed! I love this place!" Sabine shouted, throwing her arms around my neck from behind. She tugged me

  away from Dominic, and I felt as if I could breathe again. "Thanks for inviting us!"

  "You're welcome!" I shouted. The moment we left the restaurant I had speed-dialed Sabine and the Twin Cities, hoping they would