Charlotte sips her Champagne.“Absolutely, Margaret. You’ve truly outdone yourself. The decorations are exquisite.”
“Are you on the gala’s committee?” I ask.
“Yes. Five years running.” Margaret gives me a smug smile, as if I care about her involvement in the festivities.
Evelyn nods enthusiastically.“Yes, everything is just perfect. And the appetizers are divine. I must get the recipe for those mini muffulettas!”
“Thank you both. I’m so pleased you’re enjoying yourselves. Evelyn, I’ll make sure my chef sends you the recipe.” Margaret laughs lightly.
“Oh, that would be wonderful! Excuse me for a moment, ladies. I see Senator Davis over there. I must go say hello.”
As soon as Evelyn is out of earshot, Charlotte rolls her eyes.“Does she ever stop gushing? It’s like she’s still trying to impress everyone at her debutante ball.”
“I know what you mean. She’s sweet, but sometimes I think she tries a little too hard to fit in.” Margaret smirks.
“Sweet?” Charlotte chuckles.“More like syrupy. And her taste in fashion—did you see that dress? It looks like she raided her grandmother’s attic.”
“It is rather… vintage. But let’s be kind, Charlotte. She means well,” Margaret says.“Blue, your dress is divine. Wherever did you get it? Paris fashion week?”
“I thought you and Evelyn were friends,” I say.
“Are any of us really friends?” Margaret laughs.
“No one really likes other people,” Charlotte says, as if she’s stating the obvious.“We all just pretend because we want something. Then as soon as we get it… Poof. Friendship over.”
“If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.” I walk away from the vapid bitches. I can’t stand women like them, nice to your face but the minute you turn your back, they’re stabbing a knife into it.
“For a pretty girl, she can be so rude,” Margaret says when she thinks I’m far enough away not to overhear her.
“Bitch,” I mutter.
I’ve never had any close friends, so maybe they’re right and all the books I’ve read are wrong. Just once, I’d love to have someone to confide in. Someone who actually cares about what I think and what I want. I doubt I’ll ever find anyone like that in New Orleans society.
As I step onto the back veranda, I’ve never felt so alone. Small clusters of groups gather around, while others stroll through the opulent, French-style garden behind the mansion. I wish I was anywhere but here.
The entrance to the garden maze I’ve never explored calls to me. I head toward the perfectly trimmed hedges, which stand at least eight feet high. The hedges are lush and dense, their rich green leaves creating a wall of foliage that seems almost impenetrable. The scent of jasmine and magnolia wafts through the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly turned soil and the subtle fragrance of blooming flowers.
As I step into the maze, the sounds of the outside world fade away, replaced by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. The pathways, covered in finely crushed gravel, crunch gently underfoot, leading deeper into the maze’s heart.
Interspersed throughout the maze are charming stone benches, inviting visitors to sit and rest while they ponder their next move. At several junctures, the maze opens into small, circular clearings, each with its own unique centerpiece.
One clearing features a classical marble fountain, its sparkling water cascading down in a soothing melody. Another clearing boasts a statue of a graceful nymph, surrounded by a ring of vibrant, colorful flowers.
The maze’s design includes several hidden nooks and alcoves, perfect for moments of quiet reflection or whispered conversations. Ivy-covered trellises arch over some of the pathways, creating shaded tunnels designed to provide a cool respite from the sun.
In the very center of the maze lies a grand gazebo, a beautifully crafted structure made of wrought iron and adorned with climbing roses. I sit within the gazebo and try to enjoy the serene surroundings.
“I wasn’t sure I’d find you, but then I saw you leave the ballroom.” That deep, sensual voice I’ll never forget startles me.
“Vapor,” I breathe as he emerges from the darkness.
As I take in the sight of him, my breath catches. He’s wearing a modern tuxedo, the tailored jacket hugging his broad shoulders perfectly, with a crisp white shirt that highlights his strong, chiseled jaw. Sleek black trousers emphasize his long, muscular legs, and the slim black tie adds a touch of sophistication. Every detail, from the polished cufflinks to the perfectly shined shoes, exudes confidence and style. His black hair is immaculately styled.
When his piercing eyes meet mine, my entire body comes alive with yearning. He’s the embodiment of allure and elegance, a perfect blend of strength and grace that leaves me completely entranced.
I want nothing more than to throw myself into his arms, but that would be crazy. We don’t even know each other. But I want to. I want to know everything about this man.
After all, he’s the only one who’s ever sent flames of desire licking across my breasts with a single look. His mere presence makes me so wet that I feel like I’m drowning in lust. I know exactly how insane my reaction is, but it’s also the purest, most real I’ve ever felt with another person, and I never want that feeling to end.
