Chapter 41
1006words
Meet Avery Winchester, the PR whiz who spins chaos into front-page news. Her latest challenge? Nicholas Huntington, a reckless billionaire who's a magnet for trouble. Assigned to find him a girlfriend to tame his wild side, Avy faces her ultimate test. Will she stay professional amidst Nicholas's undeniable allure, or will their chemistry spark a scandal that risks everything she's worked to achieve? As tensions rise, one thing's certain: Avy's in for a wild ride she never saw coming.
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I never used to believe in fairytales.
Growing up in Brooklyn with just my mom in a rundown apartment, fairytales felt too ironic. I read different books as a kid—ones without magic godmothers or true love's kisses. When I lied, my nose didn't grow. Birds didn't sing for me. If seven dwarves came my way with a glass coffin, I'd run the other direction.
Maybe it was ambition. Maybe it was practicality. Or maybe it was just living twenty-two years on the ‘wrong side of the bridge,' watching city lights sparkle just out of reach across the water. Like Jay Gatsby, I always felt a bit apart, on the fringe of all the excitement. But, like him, I found my way in.
It wasn't what you'd expect. Certainly not the usual path. See, in all my years toughened up by New York City, I learned something valuable.
I didn't need to live in the castle if I held the keys.
Two words changed everything for me. They led to a whole new life, opened doors I never dreamed of. They haunted me day and night.
Public Relations.
No, I never really believed in fairytales. But this one came pretty close...
It felt like I was floating on a sea of flowing fabric. Cream and pink chiffon cascaded around me as I entered the room. The air was warm and lightly scented with peppermint. Twinkling lights hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow.
It seemed like a dream, but everything about the place was familiar. I had been here many times before—just never under these circumstances.
'Avery?"
I looked up to see Melody, the night hostess, approaching with a bright smile. Like all the women working in such an upscale place, she was slim and had long legs. Her heels were sky-high, a risky choice for city girls like us.
'What are you doing here? I didn't know you were working tonight." She looked worried, reaching for her schedule. 'Oh gosh... did I forget to write something down? Are you here with—"
'A date," I quickly interrupted, stopping her from panicking. 'I'm here with a date, actually. For myself."
I wished I could have said it more smoothly. Why did my confidence disappear whenever I talked about myself instead of my clients? But this was why I was here—to stand up for myself, to set boundaries, to prioritize my own needs.
'Oh," Melody raised her eyebrows in surprise, closing her book slowly. 'So not—"
'Nope, just me," I cut her off before she could finish. In the cab on the way over, I promised myself: no work tonight. I wouldn't even mention his name. 'Well, there's me and... and the date, of course."
Smooth, Avery. You really nailed it. My attempt at sounding natural was so awkward, it almost felt fake. But Melody glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile. 'Well, I hope the date is the guy with the black hair sitting in the corner. We've all been eyeing him since he got here. He's hot!"
Melody was sweet but not the brightest. The guy she described seemed to share that trait, but right then, I didn't care.
She was right. The guy was hot. Hot, and dumb, and simple. A guaranteed evening of fun, carefree sex—no strings attached, no spin to create the next morning.
Coincidentally, he was also the perfect patsy on which to practice this new ‘doing something for myself' thing I was trying.
"Actually, it is," I grinned back. "Fitted tux and everything."
For the past two weeks, we'd played a flirtatious game of catching each other's eyes at the gym. In the end, I had to be the one to make the first move—a significant annoyance for me. But his good looks and my new resolution to have a personal life made it forgivable.
"Hey, could you do me a favor?" I smoothed down my new dress, suddenly nervous. "Make sure Martin handles the appetizer, not Pierre. We don't need another prosciutto incident, if you catch my drift..."
Melody's face turned serious. "Oh, right."
She hurried off to take care of it, leaving me fidgeting in the lobby. The excitement of being at such an upscale place on my own time had given way to anxiety that almost made me want to bolt for the door.
What was I doing here?
For once, my dark hair was curled instead of ironed straight. I was struggling in heels so high even I had trouble balancing. My eyes were three times their normal size, thanks to a makeup artist's favor. And my dress cost more than half a month's rent, tags discreetly left on.
Don't get me wrong, I was used to dressing up. It was part of my job, a professional approximation that got me into places I needed to be.
But this was different. I couldn't quite pinpoint it until I caught my reflection in a passing glass of champagne.
I look like one of my clients.
The thought froze me with a sudden fear.
But just as quickly, another thought soothed me.
You always look like one of your clients. That's why you have this job. As long as you don't act like one, you're fine.
With that, I lifted my chin and glided across the room to the sound of Mozart from the quartet above. Ready to experience the kind of event I'd often orchestrated but hadn't attended in far too long.
Avery Winchester goes on a date.
(For herself.)
Fuck it. I'll never be smooth.
