Shonee's POV
So the night of Vincent and Avril's engagement party had finally arrived, and honestly, I was a bit reluctant to attend. But since Mirasol was going to be there, her nanny had to follow.
Putting on the last of my jewelry, I spruced up my hair a bit and gazed at myself in the full-length mirror. My dress was a gorgeous midnight blue figure-hugging evening gown, adorned with delicate lace that cascaded down the skirt. The low back added a touch of sophistication, and the subtle shimmer in the fabric caught the light just right. Despite my initial hesitation, I had to admit, the dress was stunning.
"Trust Jordin to select the best." And as I spoke, I picked up my phone and took a mirror selfie, making sure to capture all the stylish angles of the outfit. I quickly sent it to Jordin, and in an instant, she was online.
Jordin: Woot! Woot! Someone call the fire department cuz girl, you are about to set the party on FIRE!!
I laughed as I typed out a response.
"Shonee!" Gerta suddenly yelled from downstairs. "C'mon, the car is ready to take us."
"Oh shoot." Quickly, I pushed my feet into a pair of slip-on heels and grabbed my clutch before heading out of my room.
While waiting in the living room, little Mirasol was twirling around in a little pink dress that matched her enthusiasm for the occasion. Her eyes lit up as she saw me, and she rushed over for a hug.
"Shonee, you look like a duchess!" she exclaimed.
I chuckled, hugging her back. "And you, my dear, look like the prettiest princess in the entire world."
She giggled shyly.
"Ok, everyone set." Gerta appeared, looking radiant in a yellow off-shoulder gown with a simple yet sophisticated hairdo, kind courtesy of moi. "Let's set off then."
Dean was ready, so we all hopped into the car and made our way over to Parks Event Centre—the venue for the engagement party. The ride was mostly quiet, except for Mirasol's frequent questions and chatter. But it was good. It kept me from overthinking what I was going to do at the party now that Vincent and I were...a secret item.
On that night, I knew my sole agenda was to end things. But when Vincent confessed to having feelings for me from the very first night we met, I was taken aback. Suddenly, everything I wanted to say didn't matter anymore. All that mattered was him and what we felt for each other.
Last night flashed in my mind, and I had to shut my eyes, reveling in the memory. This whole debacle was so wrong...yet felt so right.
The car soon came to a stop, and Dean announced over his shoulder. "We're here. You might want to brace yourself for the onslaught of camera flashes."
"Got that right," I chuckled. "Thanks for the ride, Dean."
"Don't mention it, Shonee. You three have a nice night."
The valet opened my door, extending a hand to help me out. The event was strictly by invitation, but it didn't stop the paparazzi from loitering around the premises in their numbers. Cameras flashed as Mirasol, Gerta, and I were ushered through the large metal gates.
My name was thrown about a few times, asking for poses, which I hurriedly ignored because I didn't want my bosses to think I was using their engagement as some sort of celebrity debut.
We walked towards the entrance of the building. The venue was alive with music and chatter, the elegant ambience complementing the celebration. As we entered, I couldn't help but marvel at the extravagant decorations that adorned the spacious hall. They even managed to get the chandelier Avril wanted. "Huh, they definitely went all out with the planning."
"No kidding," Gerta chuckled.
Mirasol clutched onto my hand, her eyes wide with wonder. Gerta, with her usual grace, led the way through the crowd towards the heart of the party. The air was filled with soft music, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter.
"I'm going to check on the crafts and food. You two find our table." Gerta instructed before walking away.
"Ok." Mirasol and I sifted through the people, not really knowing where to go, until Mirasol yelled, "Daddy!"
Spotting Vincent across the room, my heart skipped a beat. He looked dapper in a tailored suit, his eyes meeting mine with a subtle smile that only we understood.
"Hey sweetheart." He picked up his daughter and kissed her on the cheek. "Who made you look this gorgeous?"
Mirasol giggled. "Shonee did. She did my hair and made me look all princessy."
An expression of warmth touched his features as his eyes landed on me. "You look amazing," he whispered, his free hand gently grazing mine.
I smiled, acknowledging the compliment but was unable to shake off the incoming swarm of heat threatening to melt the makeup on my face. "You're not looking too bad yourself."
Our gazes remained fixed on each other with mutual admiration. I don't know how it happened, but ever since last night, our feelings had reached levels that one might actually consider dangerous. But you know what? We didn't care, and we didn't give a hoot. Considering Vincent was tying the knot with Avril, everything we felt for each other was wrong. But we both wanted it, so we were letting it happen.
"Well, look who is here." The familiar voice had me turning to meet Michael, who was approaching us with a champagne glass in hand. He looked equally nice in his tuxedo, a sense of accomplishment and joy evident in his eyes.
"Shonee, Mirasol, welcome! You both look absolutely stunning," Michael exclaimed, raising his glass in a toast.
"Thank you, Michael," I replied with a gracious smile, trying to keep my composure amidst the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. The last time I saw Michael was during the juice spill incident at Avril's office, and we hadn't exactly spoken or tried to clear the whole issue up.
I was expecting Vincent to feel the same way too, but he didn't really look like he cared.
"So umm..." Eager to steer the conversation in a different direction, I asked, "Where's Avril? I haven't seen her since we got here."
"She's backstage," Vincent answered flatly.
"Avril insisted on having a grand style appearance so she could show off her latest designer outfit," Michael added.
Just then, feedback from a microphone pulled our attention to the stage where a man who looked to be in his late twenties was standing at the podium, rudely tapping the microphone head. "Is this thing on?"
When a piercing sound from the device threatened to puncture our eardrums, he laughed and spoke into the mic. "Whoops, sorry, my bad." He put his hands up in surrender. "Before we get this party started, can all guests find their assigned tables? Thank you."
"Well, that's my cue." Vincent set Mirasol down in front of me. "Keep an eye on her?"
"Like a hawk," I responded.
Shooting me one last mesmerizing smile, Vincent strolled away as people began to move in search of their sitting positions.
"Shonee!" Michael called out, and I turned to find him sitting at a table with Gerta.
"Oh, that must be ours. Come on, Mira." Taking her hand, I led her in that direction, and we both settled down before the event commenced.