The Grand Ballroom of the Taj Hotel was abuzz with laughter, gossip and small talk as several wealthy Bostonians socialised and celebrated the wedding of one of their former most eligible bachelors to rich Southern oil heiress.
It was five o’clock on a cool September evening. The reception had just begun, and guests were arriving from the church where the ceremony had been performed half an hour earlier.
The DJ started playing light jazz music; waiters circled and wove through guests unobtrusively with silver trays of champagne and canapés. Guests stood mingling with acquaintances and friend as the bridal party took photos and prepared in the bridal room.
Asher Dalton stood bored, half-heartedly listening as his brother caught up and relived old memories with his friends. Asher usually wouldn’t miss a chance to join in, but tonight his mind was in a different place
He stood staring into the distance, brows scrunched together in concentration. He had begun negotiations the previous morning to buy a popular, family-owned company on the verge of bankruptcy - his business-oriented mind was focused hard on the ways he would turn it around, after he bought it, and transform it into the money-making machine it had the potential to be – as he had done so before with many other companies. It was clear that they weren’t going to give up meekly.
“Ash,” Jamie stood next to him and waved his hand in front of his face.
Asher snapped out of his trance-like state and looked at his cousin, “You’re still thinking about the bailout?”
Asher nodded – Jamie was the lawyer drafting the contract. The rest of the group carried on, oblivious to the two of them. Asher sipped on his champagne and absent-mindedly swirled it around in his champagne flute.
“Loosen up a bit, it’s a party. We came to celebrate one of our oldest friend’s weddings,” Jamie nudged him, “Besides, you only started negotiations yesterday; did you really expect them to accept the day after?”
Ash looked at him incredulously, “Of course."
Jamie laughed, “You’re heartless,” he said. Ash grinned and returned to the raucous conversation he had been missing out on.
Outside the hotel the reporters and paparazzi were going wild, rapidly snapping pictures of the guests as they arrived. A sleek, black town car pulled up to the entrance. A driver got out and walked to the back door which he opened for the two passengers inside. A man got out, tall, tan, and attractive in a fine, well-tailored suit and expensive, grey trench coat with a shock of black hair. He nodded to the driver and held out to the other passenger in the car, a delicate hand was placed on top of his. A woman gracefully stepped out. Her wavy, black hair was down and held back from her face with a simple, diamond headband. Her pale blue, designer, evening dress was partially obscured by her dove-grey Burberry coat. She linked her arm through her partner’s and they walked into the lobby. There was no mistaking them; these were the famous Montero twins.
“I’ll see you in the ballroom, I need to fix my make-up,” Vida said to her brother as she handed him her coat. She made a beeline for the ladies’ room.
Upon entering the luxurious bathroom Vida heard the high-pitched giggles and gossip of two other female guests. Two skinny blondes in garish, revealing dresses stood touching up their already makeup-plastered faces, the tall one looked familiar. Vida walked to the sink and took a tube of pink Chanel lipstick out of her white, lace clutch bag.
“Are there any rich men here tonight?” The short one asked her friend.
“Jamie Channing,” replied the tall one dreamily.
She vaguely remembered the tall one from bridal shower; Caroline's cousin. Laurel, was it? Lauren? No, Lacey – that was her name.
Her friend frowned, “I mean men that you haven’t fucked already.”
“The Dalton brothers."
Her friend suddenly grew interested, “Dalton, as in Isaac and Asher Dalton? Those Daltons?” There were dollar signs in her eyes.
Laceyrolled her eyes, “Obviously.”
Their thick Southern accents grated on Vida’s ears. “I think I’d be more interested in the older one, Asher,” The short one said, “I've heard that he's an animal in the bedroom."
Vida grimaced and carefully applied some mascara – although she knew his brother, Isaac, and moved in the same social circles as the notorious womanizer, she had never actually met him.
“His money could drive a girl to insanity,” Loretta said as she licked her painted red lips. Gold diggers, Vida thought as she walked out of the bathroom.
Asher was moving around the ballroom; the centre of attention, charming every person he spoke with. He stood straight across from the doorway in an animated conversation with a group of his friends. He was right in the middle of his sentence when he stopped and stared at the angelic figure that had just entered the ballroom.
Vida.
