Page 17 of Conquered
She didn’t need a car; she wasn’t going anywhere. She had nothing to wear.Her mind was made up.
There was nothing more she could do for now. She had to be in the café. Miranda would be in a tizzy if she didn’t show up. Resigned, she left the rest of the day up to fate.
***
“You cannot just NOT go, Noelle. You don’t flake on a date like that.” Miranda insisted.
"I know…but it's for the best. I don't want to embarrass him in front of his friends and frou-frou guests."
They were prepping for the afternoon crowd while arguing over her dilemma. Miranda was adamant she went. Noelle was resolute. No, she wasn’t going.
As they argued back and forth, a shiny black Bentley sidled up to the sidewalk.
“Shit,” Noelle muttered.
Was this the person Hunter sent?
Curiously, they watched as a man stepped out and stood on the pavement. The newcomer looked dapper wearing a coat and tie and carrying a satchel in another hand. He puckered his brow as he checked his iPod. He scanned the area looking up and down the street before deciding he was in the right location. With measured gait, he headed straight for the café entrance.
“Maybe he’s lost and needs directions?" Noelle mumbled hopefully.
“Maybe he’s gay as hell,” Miranda tittered.
The man entered and flashed a smile when he saw them both. “Hello, my name is Thomas Gaye…”
“Told you,” Miranda whispered and fled, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
Noelle strived for a poker face and said, “Yes Mr. Gaye, how can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Noelle Mancini?”
“Yeah that’s me,” Noelle replied wondering who the hell he was.
“Miss Mancini, I’m here on behalf of Mr. Hunter Blackwell. He said to assist you in whatever capacity you need for the ball tonight. I’m Mr. Blackwell’s personal shopper.”
Personal shopper? What the hell was that? And why did this man speak with a British accent like he was a butler from a medieval era?
“Err-Mr. Gaye,” she replied, quashing the desire to laugh, “I really don’t know…”
“Leave it all up to me. I know everything that you need.”
"Does that include the dress she needs to wear tonight?" Apparently, Miranda had time to compose herself and decided to join them.
“Why, yes of course,” Thomas Gaye replied sizing Noelle with expertise, “…plus a visit to the hair salon, hair stylist, make-up, shoes, and clutch…the whole shebang.”
Miranda whooped in triumph as Noelle glared at her.
"Problem solved," Miranda announced with glee.
“Come. Come. We have very little time.” Thomas groaned.
Little time? The ball was hours away.
"Go!" Miranda urged handing Noelle her purse. "I can manage without you."
Inside the plush confines of the Bentley, Noelle sat uncomfortably beside Thomas. She had no idea what he had in store for her and where they were going.
“Mr. Gaye…”