Courting Royal

Chapter Four

Hours of being pampered later, my cab pulls up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After I pay the driver and am going to open the door, it magically opens for me and a very good looking guy in a suit offers his hand to help me out of the cab.

"Thank you," I say, amazed by the treatment.

"My pleasure," he says. "May I see your invitation?"

Oh. He's staff. Not some dashing, chivalrous gentleman helping an obviously out-of-her-element blogger who didn't even have the foresight to order a sleek black cab, like everyone else who is arriving for this event, did.

At least I look good.

I pull my phone out of my clutch and show him the invite on-screen, hoping that will suffice.

"Perfect," he says, flashing a brilliant smile. "Right this way Miss Rhodes."

He escorts me up the granite stairs, where I'm aware of several flashbulbs going off around me, and after speaking in hushed tones with a very official looking woman with an iPad, he says, "Have a great time tonight, Miss Rhodes," and then goes back down the stairs to assist someone else.

Which is disappointing. Now it will be abundantly clear to everyone inside that I'm arriving at this event dateless.

I don't even know if the Davenports are here yet. So I have to assume that I'm walking into the fanciest party of my life, full of politicians, dignitaries, royalty, and celebrities, and that I'll know absolutely no one. 

I take a deep breath, straighten my posture, and walk into the grand foyer as if I belong.

I'm immediately handed a glass of Champagne and instructed to follow the crowd heading to the right, where we're ushered into the Greek sculpture gallery.

There's a string quartet, black-clad waiters carrying trays of beautiful hors d'oeuvres, and the rich, powerful, and beautiful, all mingling, chatting, and laughing together.

I scan the room for the Davenports, but no luck.

Luckily, I can hold my own at events, even if I'm not rich, powerful, or notably beautiful.

I make my way through the crowd and stop at one of my favorite sculptures in the museum, the marble head and torso of Athena, just to admire it for a moment. I hardly ever get to see it this close up since there are normally people packed in here, ogling the famous piece and listening to a docent drone on about it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" a male voice says near me.

I turn and see a handsome man with dark hair and green eyes. I vaguely recognize him, but can't place him.

"It's one of my favorites," I say, smiling.

"You have good taste," he says.

"Thank you," I say, actually unsure of whether he is simply complimenting me or trying to hit on me. I don't see a wedding ring, so it could be either. Not that a wedding ring has ever kept anyone from hitting on someone.

"I'm Thad White," he says, offering his hand.

I nearly drop my Champagne.

Thaddeus White is the head of a tech company that went public last week. He's very recently become a multi-billionaire.

"Maggie Rhodes," I say, shaking his hand.

"So what brings you here tonight, Miss Rhodes?" he asks.

"Other than my desires to end human trafficking and get up close to my favorite Greek sculpture?" I ask, and he laughs.

"I suppose one wouldn't need other reasons," he says. "Those two are pretty compelling."