Chapter Twenty Four

Cole propped up a wall, observing the revelries, swirling a scotch but not drinking.

The whole event felt staged, the participants going through the motions, plastering on plastic smiles for the cameras, preening and posing like dolls.

It all felt… artificial.

Deeply, terribly fake.

The guests pooled in clusters like schools of white-clad fish. Occasionally, one would venture out, join another group, or get rejected. There existed an unspoken hierarchy, the rules of which he couldn't comprehend.

Sharks swam through the sea of faces—the elites with their entourages in tow. Notable designers, reporters, and influencers, throwing their metaphorical weight around in the presence of their lessers.

Beside Cole, a couple of coeds snapped a selfie. He grimaced as the flash stabbed his retina.

“Well, well. This gala has gone to the dogs if they’re letting the riff-raff in. How disappointing.”

Tahlia emerged from the teeming masses, glaring down her nose at Cole. The ice queen looked fetching in an elaborate, backless evening dress. Snowy satin clung to her hourglass figure, her dark hair bound in an intricate braid.

She was the mirror of a certain Disney princess, and the likeness was obviously intentional, even if her figure was far thicker.

Beside her, an absolute knockout strutted in skyscraper heels, bearing a striking resemblance to Tahlia in a sheer white cocktail dress. They possessed the same chocolate tresses, sun-kissed skin, sneering ruby lips, and excessively lush figures.

The last thing Cole needed was another snobby socialite, though he would give the newcomer the benefit of the doubt out of courtesy.

“In the organizer's defense, they didn’t invite me.” He replied glibly, lifting his glass in salute. “It’s not my usual scene. The booze isn’t bad, though.”

“I’m sure the lack of a keg and red solo cups is confusing. Party crashing, is it? Or are you part of the waitstaff?” Tahlia flipped her braid dismissively. “At least you dressed for the occasion. Proving a well-tailored suit can make a musclebrain handsome.”

Cole cocked a brow at the backhanded compliment. Her companion glanced between the two of them with a knowing smirk.

“Sister, is this the boy you were complaining about?” She asked, eyeing him up and down. “Von Gloot’s pet project? Kindly introduce us.”

“The fact that he doesn’t know who you are is evidence of his ignorance.” Tahlia huffed, her full breasts nearly popping from the scooped neckline. “Esperanza meet Cole; the old perv’s protégé.”

While he wasn’t thrilled at the introduction, Cole took in Esperanza. She was a tad more developed, clearly the older sister, but no less alluring. Her riper bust, hips, and rump taxed the slinky cocktail dress to its limits. Her face held a refined elegance like wine improved by age.

Cool calculation permeated her searching gaze, and her smile had a predatory edge. Cole realized she was a tigress, a blazing presence. Several attendees kept glancing at her, whispering animatedly and snapping surreptitious photos.

“A pleasure,” Cole stuck out his hand with a lopsided grin. “Your sister, and apparently everyone else, holds you in high regard. Please pardon this simpleton for not recognizing you.”

Tahlia glared at his hand as though it were a week-old roadkill. Esperanza laughed charmingly. The mirth never reached her eyes. Instead of accepting the handshake, the curvaceous brunette pulled a business card out of her conspicuous cleavage, tucking it into Cole’s jacket pocket.

“Von Gloot’s protégé, huh?” She said thoughtfully before waving him away. “Well, that senile codger is famous for his eccentricity. Maybe you’re more than a pretty face, maybe not. I don’t really care. As you can see,” She swept an arm towards the rest of the party. “Pretty faces are dime a dozen in this business.”

“Neither do we lack for pretentious publicity hounds,” Farrah replied coolly, appearing at Cole’s elbow. “Hello, Esperanza. Is there a reason you’re bothering my friend’s date?”

Behind her stood Bella and, unexpectedly, Vivian.

The former had reapplied her makeup, covering any sign of their emotional discussion, poised and radiant once again. The latter carried two flutes of champagne, brightening at the sight of Cole, heedless of the brewing tension.

“Hi, Cole!” The inky-haired coed chirped, beaming innocently. A white off-the-shoulder mid-length dress in the style of Audrey Hepburn swaddled her mouth-watering figure. “Goodness, you look especially handsome tonight. Are you enjoying the gala?”

She blinked when Tahlia swiped both drinks, downing one while handing the other to her sister. “Hey! I, um…”

“Pretentious? My social numbers and brand sponsorships can hardly be called pretentious.” Esperanza scoffed, sipping her bubbly. “I label that as success. Perhaps if you ask nicely, I’ll even endorse your quaint little boutique. What was it called again? Crepes a la mode?”

*“Le Elite Mode.* It’s French–” Vivi began to clarify, stammering into silence at a scowl from Tahlia.

“How droll.” Esperanza tittered with cutting mockery. “Daddy’s money might let you play storekeeper, but you can’t buy style.”

“One would think a person boasting your success could afford manners.” Farrah’s voice was pure ice. “Those cost nothing.”

The atmosphere around their small group had turned frigid. Cole moved to step in and end the squabble when a gentle hand on his arm stopped him. Bella stood there, looking at him with an earnest expression.

“Don’t,” she mouthed silently, and his anger immediately fizzled.

Her eyes were bright emerald pools. Brilliant and mesmerizing. Cole lost himself in their depths. Only to resurface after Esperanza let out an indignant snort.

“Lighten up. It’s a party!” She laughed, her tone becoming jovial as though they’d exchanged friendly banter. Only then did Cole notice the many heads turned their way. Esperanza was playing to the audience. “Relax, have a drink, live a little. YOLO, am I right? C’mon girls, the night is young, and so are we. I spotted an ice sculpture earlier, perfect for my next Instagram post.”

Twiddling her fingers in farewell, she swanned into the crowd, shooting Cole a wink over her bare shoulder. Tahlia trailed after her sister, pausing when Vivian didn’t follow to stare daggers at the timid brunette.

“You don’t have to go, Vivi.” Cole murmured. “They’re not your friends. You can hang with us if you want.”

Bella nodded her agreement, clinging to him while Farrah spat an insult in Arabic at Esperanza’s retreating back.

“That sounds wonderful, but I can’t.” Vivian deflated like a punctured balloon. “Tahlia’s not as bad as she seems, plus she’s my study partner. I’m here as her plus one. She made me promise to be their photographer. Let’s catch up later, okay?”

The sad puppy dog eyes she gave Cole melted his heart. He was about to reply when Bella jumped in…

“We’d love that. Come find us the instant you get free of those harpies' talons.”

Vivi’s return smile glowed like a Malibu sunrise. She ducked her head in thanks before chasing Tahlia into the milling throng of party-goers.

“I pity that poor girl. She’s too sweet. Those Barlas siblings are walking all over her. She deserves better.”

Farrah paced and growled into her iced tea, cursing in several languages. Cole was impressed by the gorgeous polyglot’s vehemence and her innate protective nature.

“She’s in a tough spot with Tahlia for a partner, but she’ll have to learn to stand up for herself eventually,” Bella observed, still pressed to Cole’s side. “Don’t discount her yet, though. I caught a flash of steel in her gaze when hot stuff here told her to stay.”

“You did?” He asked, perplexed. The redhead’s soft tits and sandalwood scent were distracting.

“I believe you underestimate your effect on those in your orbit, Cole.” Farrah said, her expression unreadable. “I’m beginning to understand why Miss Laurier, a consummate professional, tethered herself to you so quickly. She’s no fool and an excellent judge of character.”

Cole wondered how well she knew Krystal to make such an accurate assessment. He was about to inquire when a voice called above the thumping music.

“Farrah, dear! How wonderful to see you! Bless my stars, you look ravishing tonight. Simply ravishing!”

The crowds parted like a flotilla of ducks, forming a path for a coffee-skinned goddess of jaw-dropping proportions. Swathed in what appeared to be a cross between a chiffon wedding gown and a cocktail dress, she swept towards them like a steam locomotive.

The ruffled skirts were short in the front, displaying her thick thighs and D’Orsay pumps, draping long at the back to dust the floor. The upper portion was corseted in lace, shoulderless, with a sweetheart neckline that practically groaned under the weight of her hefty endowments.

The ivory ensemble strikingly contrasted with her smooth, dark skin. Cole gaped as she clasped hands with Farrah and gave her air kisses.

“Good evening, Ms Banks. My thanks for your kindness and the invitation.” Farrah greeted her warmly. “This event is the highlight of the season.”

“Kindness? Pish posh, dear, I was merely making an observation. I’m so glad you came! *Le Elite Mode* is the talk of the town. You’re making waves, dear, making waves! Your name was at the top of my guest list. That ball gown, who designed it? I simply must know; I simply must!”

Bella caught the confusion on Cole’s face.

“That’s Ms Banks, head of the fashion department.” She whispered, hot breath caressing his ear. “She’s responsible for organizing these galas. A lovely woman, if a bit… flamboyant. Don’t underestimate her; she may seem frivolous, but she’s held in high esteem in the fashion scene, and her bullshit radar is second to none.”

He watched the fashionista perform a twirl, showing off her elaborate eveningwear for Farrah. The contour of her backside was so hugely pronounced that Cole initially mistook it for a bustle before realizing it was a hundred percent booty with a gulp.

“Most girls might get jealous when their date ogles another woman.” Bella giggled, patting Cole’s cheek affectionately. “But, in this instance, I find it strangely reassuring. You’re not put off by bigger girls at all?”

“Not in the slightest.” He replied, diverting his stare to her emerald pools. “Curves are sexy as hell. Never be ashamed of how womanly you are, Bella. You’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

She looked ready to say more when the music changed from fast-paced electronica to a classic rock number with brassy elements.

Bella’s face lit up like Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

“OMG, this is my jam! Can you dance, hot stuff?” She hopped in place excitedly.

“I know enough not to crush your toes…”

“Fantastic, let’s go!”

A big thank you to the anonymous supporter who commissioned this fun tale. You know who you are. Chapters are posted on my BuyMeACoffee page weeks in advance. Supporters can read them for the price of a single cuppa joe. Cheers for reading!