Fifteen

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By the next day I'd tried everything in my power to avoid Francisco by all means.

During our final preparations meeting. I came one minute before it was due to start so that I could sit at the exact opposite side of him. Even when we all gathered for lunch in the garden I quickly grabbed my plate and told Noela some bullshit story about my mother needing to speak to me because Honey had eaten something she should not have. So I headed inside and ate lunch in my suite.

However, this tedious game of avoidance only happened until the evening when I descended the grand staircase and noticed Francisco leave the palace to get into his black Maserati. Where was he going? And why the hell did I care?

I didn't see him again after that so by the time the day of the gala came around, I had not expected us to even exchange any words especially due to the hectic atmosphere.

"We need seats set up in the ballroom!" Beth called from across the main floor to the men who were in charge of the manual labor for the event.
"Lydia, gift bags are being handed out after the gala. Just set them up at the entrance." I'd never seen Beth so frazzled, but everything looked amazing.

The ballroom had elegant, ornate tables set up for cocktail hour. Large fruit displays were the center of attention and two bars were set up to cater to the needs of the gala guests.  Hors d'oeuvres consisted of some American treats like tuna cakes and bacon wrapped dates. However, most of the food played respects to the Portuguese cuisine such as salt cod fritters and fried green tomatoes.

The gala was starting at five o'clock and it was almost two o'clock which gave us some time to dictate the finishing touches and hopefully enough time to get ready.  Scott and I were in the entirely decked out palace garden looking at the large images that lined the runway. He still wasn't content with Bianca's lavender dress photo at the back of the runway but I convinced him that it was the most appropriate place for a color that defined an aspect of the Portuguese culture.

"Very true." He nodded, "how did our miniature look book come out?" The annual gala was when Metallic issued a miniature look book of the designs featured on the runway. They were handed out after the runway show.

"I haven't looked at the final product yet." Scott turned to me.

"I guess it's too late now. But make sure you do when you get a chance." He smiled down at me. I returned the smile but within seconds his smile was gone.

"Okay, I have to meet with Milo. I need you to make sure all the photographers are here, brief them on what is expected again then get yourself ready for this gala." As he walked away I saw Bianca approach me with a jovial grin.

"Are you excited?!" She asked, looping her arm into mine.

"I guess." To be honest, the entire incident with Francisco had put me in such a negative state that telling him off would be the only way to get me excited for anything.

Also, once again, where the hell was he? I hadn't seen him at all today. Not that I wanted to see that jerk. I hoped he would stay his ass in Casçais or wherever he was. Maybe with the pantry girl. She wasn't even as cute as me and there was no way that he would be challenged by a girl who was willing to give him a piece of ass next to a box of Ritz crackers. Shut up Annabelle! I told myself as I realized how insane I sounded in my own mind. You don't care what the hell he does with his life. He didn't give a shit about you so you don't give a shit about him.

"You guess? No wonder people say I'm the cool friend." She joked.

"Hey, they don't say that!" I said defensively.

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