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"Now, don't get so worked up," Don tried to calm me down.
"If the quad isn't ready in time for the race..." I began. Don interrupted me. He was one of the few people I let get away with that.
"If worst comes to worst, you can use mine."
But at that moment, I was so upset about Tony's delay that even Don's offer couldn't calm me down. "Sorry Don, but technically it's just not the same."
Don sighed. "You're right, of course. But Tony's news isn't that bad. The spare part will arrive the day before the race. He can still install it in time. You just won't be able to do any major test runs."
"That's way too late!" I burst out angrily. "Tony should really have better connections and get parts faster."
"I told him that too," Don replied.
"At least I can count on you." I meant that, too. Today hadn't really been that bad so far. But not that good either. Again, I caught myself thinking that I would have liked to see Isabella here right now.
"Did things work out with your... fiancée?" Don wanted to know.
"Yes, everything's going great so far," I replied.
"Congratulations. On your engagement." Don laughed loudly.
I joined in.
And felt somehow strange.
As if part of me wished the congratulations were real.
That was out of the question.
Absolutely not.
Chapter 17 ~ Carter
Thegrandhallatthe Waldorf Astoria was packed. As every year, New Yorkers had scrambled for tickets to this charity event benefiting the city's homeless. I wasn't usually one for such events, but Don had given me the tickets two weeks ago. He couldn't make it today because he had to accompany his mother to an appointment. I had considered raffling off the tickets among my employees, but when the deal with Isabella began to take shape, I decided to go myself. The charity dinner was the perfect opportunity to rehearse for the wedding: an upscale, rather formal gathering where no members of my family or other acquaintances would be present. I had requested a guest list beforehand to ensure I wouldn't run into Donovan Hayden Ellesmere. Or Cameron.
Isabella hesitated to enter the grand hall. There was no need for that. Today she wore a red patterned dress that modestly ended just below the knee, with matching shoes. A silver necklace and silver earrings completed her look. Her wardrobe must be quite well-stocked, and she looked better than all the women here in the hall. A strange feeling spread through me.
Pride.
I was proud to have Isabella by my side.
"What do people talk about at an event like this?" she asked.
I shrugged. "No idea. These are mostly people who think they're particularly important. So it's always good to ask them about their jobs. It flatters their ego."
Isabella giggled a little. "As long as I'm not asked about my job..."
"Why?" I wanted to know. I still didn't know what Isabella actually did when she wasn't playing my fiancée.
Before Isabella could answer me, a waiter approached us with a tray full of long-stemmed champagne flutes. He looked me up and down.
"Sir, may I ask you to change your shoes?"
I looked down at myself. My feet were in a pair of sneakers. As always.
"What's wrong with my shoes? They're much cleaner than those of the gentleman over there?" I nodded discreetly towards a guest with a shiny red bald head who was making his way through the crowd. He was wearing black shoes. Or rather, shoes that were probably originally black. The leather didn't shine as usual but was covered with a fine layer of brown dust, with some larger black spots sticking out. In short: it looked like the man had come here straight from a construction site.
"That's true, your shoes are cleaner," the waiter admitted sheepishly. "But unfortunately... well, formal attire was requested."