The uppity part of the town of Briarshore was buzzing with excitement. It was the evening of the birthday and retirement party of Ares Ashford, and every single person who mattered-- and plenty who only thought they did-- was trying to get through the front doors.
All the top wealthy folks from all over the world who had business with the Ashford group had confirmed they were coming. Most of the big business moguls were there to meet the new CEO since Ares was stepping down.
Everyone wanted an invite. It wasn’t just a party with free food; it was the ultimate place to make connections, seal million-dollar deals, score a wealthy boyfriend and show off expensive outfits.
In Claire’s house, Apollo stood near the bottom of the staircase. He adjusted his silk bowtie for the tenth time, letting out a loud sigh. "What in the world is taking Claire so long?" he grumbled. "We are going to be late, and grandpa’s frown will be as fierce as a cat realizing the red dot has been lying to him for years."
Then, he glanced up as his ears picked up movement.
His hand froze on his neck. Coming down the steps was Claire, and she looked like absolute royalty. She wore a half-black, floor-length gown that hugged her figure perfectly--one side slick and midnight dark, the other draped in shimmering fabric that caught the warm light with every step. Her hair was swept back, and around her collarbone rested a simple, breathtaking set of silver jewelry that twinkled like tiny stars.
Apollo was so shocked by how gorgeous she looked that his fingers slipped, pulling his bowtie way too tight.
"Ack--" Apollo choked, grabbing his throat and wheezing for air.
Behind Claire, Donna and Donovan both burst out laughing at the ridiculous sight.
"Careful there, son, don’t strangle yourself before the party even starts," Donovan chuckled, shaking his head.
Victor walked over, smiling warmly. He slapped Apollo on the back hard enough to clear his blocked windpipe. "She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?" Victor asked softly.
Apollo cleared his throat, his face turning red. He quickly straightened his jacket and tried to look completely unimpressed. "I mean... I guess. She really should have worn the green dress I bought her, but... this one will do. It’s fine." It would be over his dead body that he complimented her out loud. Especially about her looks. No way was he giving her that satisfaction.
Claire reached the bottom step, giving Apollo a sharp, amused look. "This dress is much more my style," she said calmly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Mrs. Sanders has great taste."
Victor reached out and grabbed Apollo’s shoulder, squeezing it tight enough to make the younger man wince. "You take very good care of Claire while you two are there. Do you hear me?"
"There is no damn need for that!" a loud voice boomed from the doorway.
Everyone looked in that direction. Wilder was standing right in the middle of the entrance to the house, resting a hand on her hip. "I’ll take care of her myself," she announced.
Donna rushed down the stairs, looking at her mother in total horror. "Mom?! Why are you all dressed up? Are you going to the party as well?!"
"Of course I’m going," Wilder snorted, twirling slowly. "Do you think I’m going to let Claire walk into that den of rich, fake-ass wolves all by herself? Hell no! Besides all of us were invited."
Donovan covered his eyes. He had known about the plan, but he thought Wilder would rethink it come morning. Truly, he felt sorry for the Ashfords.
Apollo puffed out his chest defensively. "There must be a misunderstanding here. My family is good! They’re nice people, and they all like Claire."
Wilder marched straight up to Apollo until she was standing just inches from Apollo’s face. She squinted her eyes at him. "I’ll be the fucking judge of that tonight, kid."
Donna blinked once. Then twice. She stared at her mother’s outfit in complete, unfiltered shock. "Mom... the invitation specifically said a black tie or Victorian. Your outfit..."
Wilder had clearly made a deliberate effort to look as though she had lost a fistfight with a second-hand thrift store.
She was wearing a blindingly bright orange blouse with big, puffed sleeves that looked like two inflated pumpkin balloons. Below that, she wore baggy, loose-fitting pants in a loud leopard print. And draped carelessly around her neck was a cheap, turquoise feather boa. Every time Wilder breathed or twitched, three or four bright blue feathers floated off her body and landed softly on the clean hardwood floor.
"What?" Wilder sneered, pointing at the shedding boa. "It’s a feather boa! Feather boas are 1920s! It’s Victorian. It adds drama!"
A stray blue feather drifted right onto Apollo’s shoulder.
Wilder turned her head, looking Apollo up and down like he was a bug on her shoe. "You got a problem with how I look, son?"
Apollo folded his lips into a tight line. He stared at the giant orange shoulder pads, then at the cheap turquoise feathers resting on his suit and slowly shook his head. He was an idiot, but he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with Wilder. "No. No problem at all. You have never been more beautiful."
"Good," Wilder barked. She spun around and took the first big step toward the front door, leaving a trail of blue feathers behind her. "Come on then! Move your asses! We don’t want to be late for the fancy circus!"
Claire put a hand over her mouth, letting out a muffled laugh. She looked at Wilder’s ridiculous leopard-print pants and bright orange sleeves, her eyes shining with pure joy. She honestly could not have asked for a better companion.
One thing she was grateful for was that Maddy had chosen to sleep in. One Wilder was more than enough.
Thirty five minutes later, the shiny black limousine pulled up to the main entrance of the Briarshore Country Club.
The venue was blinding. Crystal chandeliers hung from the open archways, jazz music played softly from a live orchestra, and men in sharp tuxedos were walking alongside women wearing dazzling dresses and diamond tiaras.
Valets were running around in crisp white gloves. Camera flashes went off as reporters tried to snap photos of the rich and famous.
The valet opened the door of Apollo’s car. Apollo stepped out first, fixing his jacket for three seconds and then offering a hand to Claire.
Claire stepped out gracefully, looking like a dark, elegant queen. A few photographers gasped, raising their cameras. "Is that the ex-Dane heiress?" someone whispered. "She looks incredible!"
Then, the second car door swung open with a loud THUD.
"Move out of the way, Wilder is here!" Wilder’s voice roared from inside the vehicle.
Out stepped a giant pair of leopard-print pants.
The entire front entrance went dead silent. The jazz band literally missed a beat. A valet who was about to park another car stopped abruptly, his eyes bulging out of his head.
Wilder stepped onto the red carpet in her screaming-bright orange blouse. She gave her turquoise feather boa a violent shake, sending a cloud of bright blue feathers exploding into the air. Half of them landed directly in the pristine hair of a woman wearing a five-thousand-dollar silk gown.
The woman gasped, looking like she was about to faint. "What... what is that?!"
"That is my great aunt’s feather boa, ancient enough that family legend claims it attended three coronations and one royal kidnapping in 1831." Wilder replied proudly, grinning at the rich, horrified woman. "I bet it’s worth more than your dress."
Apollo buried his face in his hands, letting out a low groan of pure agony. "Oh God. Please shoot me now."
Claire had to bite the inside of her cheek so hard it almost bled just to stop herself from screaming with laughter. She leaned over to Apollo and whispered, "I wish you luck."
Wilder stomped up beside them, adjusting her bright orange sleeves with pride. She looked around at the crowd of guests who were staring at her with open mouths.
"Well?" Wilder shouted, waving a hand at the silent crowd. "Where is the damn booze? And who do I have to fight to get some real food around here? Lead the way, Apollo!"
Claire grinned, looking at him like she was enjoying his distress. "After you, Apollo."