All's Fair in Love and Lion (19 page)

The anger drains from me. “Sasha, material wealth doesn’t always mean happiness. Don’t you see?
You’re
my wealth. The money means nothing without you.”

To my dismay, she dissolves into tears.

“What did I say?” I wrap my arms around her and she weeps into my chest.

“The most . . .” She hiccups. “. . . sweetest thing.”

Mystified, I rub her back. “Then, why are you crying?”

“I can’t help it. It’s impossible to stay mad at you for your extravagance. You can’t change the way things are in the Third Realm. Then you turn around and are sweet no matter what.”

“I mean every word.”

She wipes her eyes with her fingertips. “All the more reason I’m touched. You’re my own personal knight-in-shining armor.”

“I try.”

“You’re wonderful, Monroe.” She leans her head against my chest. “Your heart is racing.”

I slowly exhale. “You do that.”

“You do the same to my heart. Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Your love.”

“No thanks necessary.”

“All the same, I’m grateful.”

“And I’m grateful you’re in my life.” I shift my gaze to her coffee table where her planner rests. “How are the wedding plans coming?”

She flips open the book. “I ordered the invitations.”

I scan her to-do list. “Appears you’ve accomplished quite a bit. You’re very efficient.”

“Having a small ceremony and reception makes it easier.”

“Considering our circumstances, probably best.” It’s a good thing she doesn’t know what I’ve planned for the reception. Perhaps she won’t mind since it is our wedding. Then again, I could be in trouble.

“In about two months I get to pick up my wedding gown.”

“Oh?” Thoughts of the reception disappear as I give her a sidelong glance. “Might I come with you?”

“You know that answer.”

I join in her laughter. “The question slipped out. Besides, I’m impatient.”

“I’m not revealing any details.” A grimace creases her face.

“What?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry. My head hurt for a second.”

“You all right?”

She rubs her temple, then smiles. “I’m fine.”

Behind the false bravado, something I can’t name flickers in her eyes. I open my mouth to press her further, when I remember her words.
Promise me.

I clear my throat. “So you are.” Inside, I’m shaken. What if she’s not fine? What if I lose her?

Chapter 26: Sasha

Gazing in the mirror above my dresser, I wonder what Monroe will do to occupy his time while I’m at the prom. He wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of not being there especially after how I acted a week ago, but he eventually consented. I guess he believed my story about having a headache.

The attack still makes me shudder. Lily came in so suddenly. It was all I could do not to show Monroe exactly how intense the pain was. Once I assured him I was all right, I convinced him to leave.

If only Lily had left when Monroe did. Instead, she did the exact opposite. She wasn’t content merely to bang around in my head, and refuse to leave, I could feel her close. Almost as if she’d enter my apartment at any moment. The memory of her words spoken inside my head makes my blood run cold. Does she have extra powers like she boasted? Am I capable of going up against her? How would I? I’m not a Thirdling. I haven’t got their powers. Sucking in a breath, I remind myself she hasn’t returned in several days. Maybe the effort was beyond her strength and she’s too weak to come after me again. Maybe I’m safe.

A glance at my bedside clock tells me I don’t have time to consider the possibilities. I have a responsibility to the school, and I can’t let them down. I clasp onto my wrist the blue-green Alexandrite bracelet Monroe gave me and fasten the matching earrings in place. When I told Monroe the Alexandrite gem was rare, I never thought he’d give them to me. I should’ve known better.

Finally, I clasp the engagement locket around my neck and peer at my reflection. I’m overdressed for being a chaperone, but if I don’t wear the dress and jewelry I’ll hurt Monroe’s feelings.

Besides, it’s the most gorgeous gown I’ve ever owned. Running my fingers over the satin teal bodice, I marvel at its elegance. From the square neckline, to the matching embroidered roses stitched along the waistline, it’s much finer than any dress I’ve ever owned. Not to mention the ankle-length chiffon skirt makes the dress fancier than anything I would’ve chosen to wear when chaperoning a dance. Another peek at the clock warns me I better hurry if I don’t want to be late. I grab the drawstring purse and head out the door.

Avoiding the other tenants’ stares in the elevator, I concentrate on the gray carpet. I can feel their attention on me. The ride down hasn’t ever seemed so long before.

When we reach the garage level, I race to my car. I get in and strap on the seatbelt. I’m about to turn the key in the ignition when something catches my eye. For a panicked moment I’m sure I see Monroe in the rearview mirror. What’s he doing here? I twist in the driver’s seat to get a better look.

Odd. Only my neighbors are in the parking garage. I face forward again.
Get a grip, you’re too jittery.
I start the car and take slow, even breaths.
I can do this.

Later in the evening, I arrive at The Bella Marianna. The medium-sized, but stylish, white hotel sits in the center of town surrounded by giant oak trees. Illuminated signs point me toward the valet parking at the entrance. Everything’s bright, grand, and elegant. Too much like Monroe. A wave of regret washes over me. I should’ve ridden with him.

Calming my beating heart, I remind myself that soon this night will be over and just another memory and then I can be back home and in Monroe’s arms where I belong.

I pull in under the covered driveway and get out. Handing my keys to the valet, I start toward gold and glass doors. Someone calls my name. I stop and turn around. Along the curb a limousine idles. I cock my head to one side trying to see who’s behind the rolled down window, but it’s not down far enough for me to make out the figure inside. Shrugging, I figure it’s one of the students being funny and step through the doors.

The lobby is a mixture of antique elegance with modern conveniences. The scent of lilacs, roses, and orchids float through the air. Massive bronze vases brimming with the flowers occupy every imaginable corner. From the high ceilings delicately sculpted chandeliers drip with prisms, casting rainbows in every direction.

A stand near the doors lists the events for the night. I scan the schedule until I find St. James High School. The event planners reserved the upstairs Venice Ballroom for us. I ride one of the three escalators to the upper floor.

Arriving at the top, my heels sink into the plush red carpet as I pass more bronze vases filled with roses and lilies until I reach an open double doorway and meet up with Jill.

“Sasha! Nice to see you.” Jill hugs me. Her gaze falls on my dress. “You look amazing.”

“So do you.” I indicate her floor-length, scarlet satin gown, a perfect complement to her tan.

“I think you win the prize for best dressed, though.”

Marjorie, dressed in a black evening gown, joins us. She gives me a hug. “Sasha, glad you could make it. What a lovely gown.”

“Thanks. Yours is, too.”

“Is Carl here?” she asks.

I peek into the ballroom. “Isn’t he here? He left the restaurant about the same time as me.”

Originally, I was afraid dinner would be awkward. However, I shouldn’t have worried. It was friendly and uneventful. Plus, Carl mentioned he met someone he might ask out. I hope he does. A nice guy such as him deserves happiness.

“I heard my name.”

Carl partially jogs down the hallway toward us. “What’s going on?”

“There you are,” Marjorie says. “Now all the chaperones are here. The students will be arriving any minute. Carl and Sasha, you’re at the table over there.” She points to a small rectangle table covered in a white cloth with glitter in St. James’s blue and gold. “Accept one vote per student for prom king and queen.”

“Got it,” Carl says.

We take our places as Carl picks up the prom king’s crown. “I wonder who will win this year.” He sets the crown on his head.

Giggling, I grab the crown from him and set it back next to the tiara for the prom queen. “Some of my students want Ginny Hunter for prom queen.”

He picks up a card with the voting rules. “It says only seniors can win, so Ginny’s out. The students can nominate any senior guy and girl.”

“Makes sense.”

A crowd of students make their way down the hall toward us. The girls sparkle from head to toe in formal wear and the guys are decked out in an array of tuxes. Flashes of colors, rhinestones, sequins, and cameras burst around me as the students press against the table and write in their votes.

“Wow,” Tiffany says, “Miss Brighton, you’re so pretty!”

“Thank you. Enjoy the dance.”

Tiffany grabs her date, and drags him into the ballroom. “We will.”

Carl laughs. “You know who her date is, right?”

“Your student, RJ Anders?”

“Yep. He told me he was totally ‘stoked’ she said yes.”

“I hope he doesn’t mind being pushed around. Tiffany’s quite assertive.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Carl and I joke back and forth amid giving voting cards to various students.

Marjorie approaches us after a while. “You two come into the ballroom, now. I’ll send someone else out.”

“Thanks,” Carl says, getting up.

“Yes, thank you,” I answer, following Carl into the ballroom. I blink in the dim lighting and take a moment to let my ears adjust to the thumping music.

A rock ballad comes on and Carl holds out a hand. “Want to dance?”

“I’m not a very good dancer.”

“All you got to do is move to the beat,” he says, leading me onto the floor.

Gently, he guides me around the surrounding couples. “You’re better at this than you claim.”

“Slow songs are easier.”

He chuckles. “Is Monroe coming?”

“I told him I didn’t want everyone at work asking me about him.”

“Next time bring him along. We won’t pester him . . . much.”

“We’ll see.”

He twists around and grimaces. “Uh-oh. Looks like I need to break up a few students before Marjorie has a coronary.”

“Want some help?”

“Nah, I got it.”

I wander off the floor and head for the drink table. I pick out a bottled water from a bucket of ice and turn my attention to the dance floor.

“Hey, Sasha,” Jill and her husband, Gus, wander over.

“Hi, Gus. I saw Jill a little bit ago. You clean up as nicely as she does.”

Gus rolls his eyes. “Jill made me dress up.”

Jill whispers conspiringly, “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not suffering. By the way, I meant to ask you, where did you get the dress? It’s fantastic.”

“It was a gift.”

“From someone special, I presume?” She winks.

Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I force myself not to blush. “Yes.”

“Is he here and can I meet him?”

“No, he’s not here. Another time I’ll introduce you.”

“Is it serious between you and this mystery man?” She gives me a friendly nudge. “Will we hear wedding bells?”

Gus reaches for Jill’s hand. “Leave Sasha alone.” He gives me an apologetic look. “Jill always has to know everything about everybody. Whether it’s her business or not.”

“Sasha never talks about her romantic life,” Jill protests.

“Let’s get something to drink, Jill,” Gus says, steering her into the crowd.

The music thrums under my feet. Around me students sway to a song I recognize as a popular tune from the previous year. Throughout the ballroom thousands of tiny white lights inspire a fantasy atmosphere. Tables covered in white linen surround the hardwood dance floor. Streamers of blue and gold hang off the ends of the tables along with glitter and sequins in the same colors. At the buffet tables, I talk to some of the other chaperones, checking the time every so often. The night can’t end fast enough.

Finishing my water, I stand in the doorway and watch the students thoughtfully. What would it be like to have Monroe here? Would we join the others on the dance floor? Or maybe we’d find a table in a corner and talk over the music while I monitor the students. I grimace. A realistic scenario would be not having a moment to ourselves. People would ask us a million questions. I sigh. Probably best he’s not here.

A tap on my shoulder makes me turn around. I blink.

Monroe holds out a hand. “Waiting for me?”

“What are you doing here?” Despite the avalanche of emotions, I can’t help admiring how handsome he is dressed in a black tuxedo, with a teal bowtie and vest that match my gown. My heart pounds as I place my hand in his.

“I wanted the last dance,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Perhaps later I can whisk you off and have you all to myself.”

“But-but you weren’t supposed to be here!”

“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?”

“I told you I preferred coming alone.” I lick my lips, nervously.

“Are you free for the last dance or not?”

Hesitantly I say, “Well . . . since you came all this way. But, Monroe, what were you thinking?”

“Aside from the fact I couldn’t stand the thought of any other man’s arms around you, I wanted to see you. You’re gorgeous. The seamstresses outdid themselves.”

“You’re very handsome, yourself.”

He straightens his shoulders. “More handsome than Carl?”

“Are you jealous?”

A rueful expression crosses his features. “Let’s say I understand how you felt when I danced with Lily.”

Anger curls inside me at the mention of her name. “Mind if we change the subject?”

“With pleasure.” He draws me into his arms. “Was the evening very dull?”

I fight a smile. “Extremely.”

“Then, you’re glad I came?”

I laugh. “Okay, I admit it. No matter what I originally said, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Excellent.”

“Wait . . .” I gaze at him carefully, suspicion seeping into me. “Were you in my parking garage earlier?”

“Guilty.”

“And the black limo when I was walking into the hotel?”

“Yes.”

I swat his shoulder. “Monroe!”

“I couldn’t help myself.”

“Why didn’t you come up earlier?”

“I didn’t want you to be mad.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

He looks contrite. “Please don’t be angry. You know you’re my weakness.”

I fight a smile. “You’re hopeless.”

“Does that mean you forgive me?”

“I guess so.”

He gives me a quick kiss. “All’s right with the world.”

I rest my head on his chest. “I wonder about you sometimes.”

“This must be the famous Monroe,” Carl says, coming over to us as the dance ends. “I’m Carl Darrenmore, I teach Junior English.”

“I heard you’re Sasha’s colleague.”

“I hear you’re going to be her husband,” Carl answers. “You’re one fortunate man.”

“I agree.” Monroe tightens his arm around my waist. “She’s a treasure.”

Carl nods. “Excuse me, I have to announce the king and queen.” He walks off to where the DJ’s set up against the opposite side of the room.

“I think someone else wants to meet you,” I say, when I see Jill almost trip as she runs over to us. She pulls Gus along behind her.

She regains her balance, and says breathlessly, “Sasha, is this the special someone?”

“Monroe, this is Jill and her husband, Gus Michaels.”

“Tell me, how did you and Sasha meet?” Jill asks.

“Oh,” Monroe says, as I pretend interest in my high-heeled shoes, “we sort of ran into each other and things went from there.”