Page 20 of Conquered
Chapter 7
It was a short ride to the Plaza Hotel in New York City. Noelle immediately recognized the concrete arches and large glass and bronze façade. The building took a ghostly appearance bathed in the glow of huge spotlights.
The Bentley came to a stop in front of the cantilevered stairway covered in red carpet. A uniformed porter opened the car door.
Thomas stepped out and held his hand to Noelle. She smiled in relief. Thomas was coming too.
“Your prince is waiting inside,” he whispered, then re-entered the car.
Noelle wheeled around in alarm. “You’re not coming with me?”
“My dear girl, I am a stylist, not a nanny. Raise that chin high and own the dress. The press is waiting.”
The car moved forward and suddenly Noelle felt all-alone. As she looked up she noted the horde of paparazzi that lined both sides of the stairs, kept at bay by velvet barrier ropes. She had to pass that mob.
“I can do this,” she muttered hating Thomas for abandoning her this way.
She took a tentative first step keeping her eyes focused on the landing that felt a hundred miles away.
“Can you give us your name Miss? Are you here with someone? Do you work for the movies?”
She heard the questions thrown at her as the blinding light of flashbulbs followed her ascent. She kept her poise and stayed silent.
Noelle reached the multi-story lobby and entered the cool interior. Her eyes were immediately attracted to the crystal chandeliers that sparkled like a million constellations. She saw the paintings by the masters and the pictures of famous performers that had performed at the hotel.
Her heels resounded against the marble flooring as she followed the strains of an orchestra. It led her to a huge ballroom where an usher asked for her name.
“Mr. Hunter is inside,” the girl said and escorted her in.
Noelle fought the urge to cling to the usherette like a lifeboat. The room was crowded with a wide circular dance floor in the center. She stood hesitantly by the door. Heads turned in her direction. In the sea of black and white tuxedoes, it was almost impossible to spot Hunter Blackwell.
Hunter was in deep conversation with the mayor and his wife, constantly searching the room to see if his date had arrived. He wondered how he would spot her among this multitude of people.
Suddenly, he sensed a change inside the room. It was like the unexpected appearance of the sun on a stormy day or a sudden warm breeze on a particularly chilly night. A wave of curious faces turned towards the entrance of the ballroom as if attractive to something truly spectacular.
Then he saw her.
Hunter immediately excused himself, oblivious to the fact that he had left the rest of his sentence hanging. The Mayor and his wife looked at him in surprise, as he scurried towards the entrance of the ballroom.
From a distance their eyes locked.
Noelle felt the world tilt. She had never seen him this elegant. The three-piece suit hugged his body like a second skin. The formal shoes shone to perfection. His hair was slicked back and a five o’clock shadow decorated the side of his face and chin.
His eyes stayed locked with hers. He approached like a majestic lion, coming to claim its prey – assured and confident. He was a few feet away when his eyes crinkled and the lips broke into an approving smile.
Noelle was happy to note that her jaw had not slackened and left a slobbering mess.
“You like?” she asked, spreading her arms apart for him to see the dress.
He immediately covered the gap between them and whispered intimately in her ear, “You are the most ravishing creature I’ve ever seen. I will be the envy of every man tonight.”
He took her arm and placed it against his as he escorted her inside. Noelle was aware that a thousand eyes followed their every move. But she was no longer afraid. Hunter was all the confidence she needed.
The power inside the room was palpable. Noelle immediately recognized the Mayor and his lovely wife. She was familiar with the Deputy Mayor, the kind and gentle face of the Police commissioner, the taciturn New York Assembly speaker, and other high profile personalities she only read about or saw on TV.
Their luminescence dimmed in the presence of her date. Hunter stood tall among the crowd as several guests sought his company. Hunter made a point of introducing her to Mr. James Powell, a tall wiry black man with streaks of gray in his kinky hair.
Mr. Powell was the Council speaker- the head of the same council that was making life difficult for Hunter in getting a ticket nomination. He appeared entranced with her and asked her to dance.