The Gala [40]

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40. The Gala

Maureen

Three months later

"Cara, have you seen Ryan?" I asked, leaning over her chair, where she sat texting on her cell-phone.

"Um..." She glanced up at me, a frown making its way over her face as she shook her head. "No. Last I saw him he was on his way to the men's room. Why- you haven't seen him?"

"No... he's acting weird today, did you notice?" I abruptly asked her, my brow furrowing in confusion. My heel was caught on the long skirt of the dress I wore and I quickly leaned over to free it. She seemed startled.

"He... is? Weird how?"

I straightened, scanning the ballroom, trying to ascertain between Ryan's tall, broad-shouldered body and all the other tuxedo-clad males crowding the ballroom. "I don't know... he's just been acting funny." I didn't tell Cara how unsettled I actually was. Ryan had been acting strange all day, even before we all piled in the limos to come to the hotel.

Today was the social event of the year: a fabulous gala that my father was hosting to draw together all the leading benefactors of BFN. It not only raised awareness for our company, but it gave celebrities a chance to dress up and pay ten thousand dollars a plate of food (a monstrous sum of money, in my opinion, but since it was all going to charity, I didn't have any complaints). All of Hollywood's most elite attended, as well as the leading doctors in the industry and even wealthy, influential politicians. It was an elaborate affair and promised to last long into the evening- perhaps past midnight. I didn't mind; I was having a wonderful time. There was dancing and beautiful music, with California's Symphony Orchestra playing live. All my family was here- Lauren had even come, towing Fred (I'll never get used to her husband's height) behind her. She was almost full-term and I couldn't wait to welcome my first little niece/nephew into the world.

The ballroom was huge and yet the sheer number of guests who had attended overcrowded the place. Everywhere I looked were people, positively glittering in their gowns and sparkling jewelry: celebrities, socialites, dashing men in Armani suits, gorgeously dressed women dripping in diamonds, weathered old gentlemen with their trophy wives. My family, along with Diane and Lacey, were mingling with the guests clustered about the beautiful table where Dad was talking with a senator. George Clooney sat at a table on the far side of the room, entertaining a small crowd of women. I smiled to myself. I had already been introduced to the famously swoon-worthy Mr. Clooney a few months back and today, had the privilege of greeting him with a shake of the hand as we now constituted as acquaintances. I remembered with an inward giggle when I introduced him to Ryan. George had been in the midst of offering to get me into a movie of his when Ryan came up next to me, hands in pockets, eyes flashing in a strange mixture of jealousy and amusement. George's eyebrows went up and Ryan reached a hand out, his tone amicable.

"Mr. Clooney. It's great to meet you... I see you've met my girlfriend, Maureen," he smiled, placing a hand on my back.

"Ah, so you're the lucky guy," George returned in the same tone, shaking Ryan's hand. George was very polite and had his own charm, of course. I liked him very much... but I had the bothersome idea that he was hitting on me. So did Ryan, by the looks of it. "You certainly have a beautiful young woman here, Mr..." He trailed off. I rolled my eyes, as neither of them was looking at me. George knew who Ryan was. His face had been all over the tabloids and the internet for months. GQ magazine just released its March issue, and Ryan had been featured in one of its articles: Ryan Adams, the former chauffeur-turned-boyfriend of heiress Maureen Carvelli, is voted Hottest Guy of 2011.

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