Should Have Not Asked - New Adult Romance (Wattys 2014)

Chapter 13 - A Night Of Hunter

My fingers feel cold as I rub them against the fabric of my dress. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my enter life. Every three seconds, I breathe to let out the hot air inside me.

I stare at my reflection in the function hall's door window, flicking my lashes to make sure that it is me I see and not some illusion.

Jesus! I can't even recognize myself. Hugo did an excellent job convincing me to wear this long black gown with a super low neckline. The black sequins and tiny gems complement each other, and they go well with the color of the sheer fabric falling graciously down my legs. I guess I am a picture of a sexy, sultry, and fierce vixen right now. The beaded bodice hugs my curves as I blush at the sight of them. I never thought I can flaunt them, nor did I think I have a feminine and seductive side to me. My eyes are fiery and smoky too with the eyeshadow almost enveloping my entire eyelids. I see no plain diner girl. No Angel Mohr but a character entirely created for deception. I won't lie, but I am amazed to see myself look so expensive, glamorous, sexily gorgeous, and so not me. I noticed that my hair is brushed sleekly to the back of my head, and I suddenly remember Jennifer Lopez in a concert arena.

The more I look at myself, the more anxious I grow. How am I going to pull this off? How am I going to pretend to be fierce and sultry? How am I going to do that in front of a mass of educated and rich people who probably have the critical eye to decipher one of their own? Won't they easily find out I'm a fraud? I am no expert in deception.

There's still time for escape. I can always turn away and head toward the door, leave Paul without a girlfriend, and save myself from this nerve-wracking situation.

But you're already here, Angel. I hear my conscience say. It's just one night. All you have to do is smile.

Besides, I am not Angel Mohr tonight. I am not supposed to be her. I am Angel Grant — a sophisticated woman escorting a rich bachelor. I must think and act like a high-born woman. I heave a sigh to knock off the uneasiness and motion to the door after the bellhop shoots me a curious and confused glare. I falter, my sweating palms rub each other, and my face show paranoia when he gives me that look. One flinch from me, and the bellhop would know I'm a fake. What can I say? Rich and classy people don't get nervous when they enter expensive functions. I am doing the exact opposite of what I should do.

When the doors open, a jaw-dropping scenery astonishes me. It's just so breathtaking! The chandeliers are so grand like bright flaring fires in summer. The drapes are huge and expensive-looking, and the people are dressed in their best coats and ties and evening gowns. The moment I enter the function hall with my trembling legs, I see an orchestra playing some fast beat classic. It's like a fantasy... beautiful, dreamy, like time has stopped to allow my mind to canvass a great memory out of it. Now I realize what Cinderella might have felt when she arrived at the ball all by herself — clueless but more than amazed. I assume she's as dazed as me. My heart thumps like a horse galloping, and I feel my chest tightening. I can't believe I'll be rubbing shoulders with these people regarded as the highest class in society. Never in my life have I dreamt of being in such a kind of situation. I don't know if I should regard this as a trial or a chance so rare that I dread it will only happen once. Thinking of it as an opportunity makes me smile.

I suddenly feel conscious about how I look. Hence, I gawp through the glass door. How my makeup makes me look like a different person! Beautiful and irresistibly gorgeous in Hugo's vocabulary.

"This way, miss," a dainty and polite man in his waiter's uniform says as he leads me to a woman standing beside a desk with a guest list on her hands.

"May I ask your name, miss?" she asks nicely.

"Uhm... Angel Grant," I say as I try to ease the nervousness by holding firmly on my Chanel clutch bag. Hugo says that Paul has taken good care of everything and that I should not worry about uttering the name. He also added that it is a must that people see confidence in me. Several women would die to be me at this very moment. Faking an identity is more than an opportunity. Hence, I should spend every second being in Angel Grant's shoes the best I could. This doesn't happen all the time.