The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Eight: The Other Parties

He pulled back and lifted a long, jeweler's box he'd been holding and opened it for me.

I could hear the gasps from everyone else in the room.

"Do you like it?" he asked as he lifted the chain out of the box and held it up for me. 

It was a necklace with a short white gold chain, encrusted with alternating pink and clear round diamonds in slightly varying sizes. 

"It's lovely," I croaked out through the emotions stuck in my throat as Brandon smiled and moved behind me to secure the necklace around my neck. "You shouldn't have, though."

"Yes, I should have," he said sofly as he turned me gently to him, his fingers cupping my chin. "It's our engagement party."

For a marriage of convenience, yes, except that the damn lines are blurring.

"Thank you," I said, smiling back at him. "I'll take care of it, make sure it's safely returned to you later tonight."

His brows shot up and he glanced around to make sure everyone was busy cleaning up to pay too much attention to us. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just before my ear as he whispered, "It's a gift, Charlotte. I want you to have it."

"Okay," I mumbled out faintly, awkward all of a sudden with my conflicting emotions. I placed my hand on his chest though, and looked up at him with another smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he said before taking the hand I'd placed on his chest and using it to wrap my arm around his as he turned to all the people assisting me. "Thank you again for all your help. We have to get going now though. We'll see all of you at the party later."

I beamed at everyone and gave them a little wave as Brandon escorted me to the door. He had easily agreed to my suggestion to let my style team come since I didn't really have a lot of friends invited to this party.

Fifteen minutes later, we arrived at Thurston House—a splendid Victorian mansion converted into a banquet hall about fifty years ago. It was popular for its opulent, old-world charm and its sprawling gardens.

Brandon helped me out of the car and camera lights were already flashing before I could even straighten myself up. There was a small area corded off for the media and reporters were craning their necks to get a better view of us.

"Oh, I promised them ten minutes tonight before we go in," I told Brandon before I slowly made my way to the paps, taking care not to trip in my four-inch strappy gold sandals. "Come, Brand. It won't take long."

He looked uncertain for a moment but he nodded and walked with me. Gilles was already there, stepping away when Brandon and I arrived.

"Ms. Samuels! It's a big night. Are you excited?"

"Mr. Maxfield, any comment on the rumored CanCorp acquisition?"

"Charlotte, is that the same dress?"

"How's little Rose?"

"Where will you honeymoon?"

I heard Brandon mutter under his breath as we got barraged with questions but he stayed by my side, his body angled toward me in a protective stance. 

I smiled at him, touching his jaw reassuringly. "Don't worry. You don't have to say anything. I've got this."

He glanced down at me with a raised brow. "You're not used to this, Charlotte."

"Used to it enough in the last few days," I told him before I stepped forward and beamed at the reporters.

"Hey, guys. How's it going?" I greeted them, recognizing the familiar faces of the small group who faithfully showed up at our designated place each day.