Chapter 5 - The Gala of Gold and Velvet
On Saturday evening, a sleek silver limousine pulled up outside Claire’s apartment building.
Claire stepped out of her front entrance, holding her breath. She had spent two days searching for a dress that fit her full, voluptuous figure, finally finding a stunning, deep emerald-green velvet gown with a sweetheart neckline, three-quarter sleeves, and a floor-length skirt that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her chestnut hair was styled in an elegant, soft updo with loose curls framing her face, and she wore simple gold drop earrings.
Marcus was waiting by the open door of the limousine. When he saw her, his usual stoic expression dissolved into genuine admiration. "Miss Whitmore. You look breathtaking."
"Thank you, Marcus," Claire said, blushing as she stepped into the luxurious leather interior.
The drive to the Grand Horizon Estate—the massive Vance family mansion perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean—took thirty minutes. The estate was illuminated by hundreds of golden lights, with expensive sports cars lined up along the driveway and wealthy elite floating up the grand marble staircase.
When the limousine stopped at the red carpet, the door opened, and Gabriel Vance himself was waiting for her.
He was dressed in a pristine black tuxedo that made him look impossibly handsome, broad-shouldered, and regal. When he offered his arm to Claire and saw her in the emerald velvet gown, his dark eyes darkened with an intensity that sent a wave of liquid heat through her veins.
"Claire," Gabriel murmured, his voice thick as he took her hand, bringing it to his lips to press a warm, lingering kiss against her knuckles. "You are... magnificent."
"You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Vance," Claire teased lightly, though her heart was pounding like a drum against her ribs.
They walked into the grand ballroom together.
The room was a dizzying spectacle of crystal chandeliers, flowing champagne, and high-society glittering gowns. Hundreds of guests turned to look as Gabriel Vance entered—the reclusive king of the city who hadn't attended a public event since his wife’s death three years ago.
Shocked whispers rippled through the crowd.
"Who is that woman with him?" "Is she a foreign heiress?" "Look at her... she's not a model, she's... full-figured. Who is she?" "I heard she runs a bakery on 5th Street!"
Claire felt the sharp, critical eyes of the city’s elite piercing into her skin. A knot of insecurity tightened in her stomach. She was a baker, a woman who smelled of cinnamon and flour, standing among women who lived on champagne and designer diets.
Gabriel felt her arm stiffen against his. Without hesitating, he covered her hand with his own, pulling her closer to his side. He leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
"Ignore them," Gabriel commanded gently. "There isn't a woman in this room who can hold a candle to you tonight."
Before Claire could answer, little Lily came running across the marble floor in a fluffy pink dress, abandoning her nanny. "Mama Claire! You look like a princess!"
Claire laughed, kneeling down despite the heavy velvet of her dress to wrap her arms around the little girl. "And you look like a fairy queen, Lily!"
Eleanor Vance walked up, looking elegant in silver lace, a soft, triumphant smile on her face as she watched the three of them together. "I see my son finally managed to convince you to come, Claire."
"He can be very persuasive," Claire said, standing up with a smile.
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For the next two hours, Gabriel never left Claire’s side. He introduced her to senators, shipping magnates, and charity directors, introducing her proudly as "Claire Whitmore, my guest and the master baker behind Whitmore’s Bakery." He treated her like royalty, his hand constantly resting on the small of her back, his dark eyes watching her with a fierce, possessive warmth that silenced every gossip in the room.
Then, the orchestra began to play a slow, sweeping waltz.
