Page 14 of No Mane, No Gain
Chaos nodded slowly, still trying to process everything. “And that’s it? That’s all I have to do?”
“That’s all,” Gerri confirmed. “Well, that and one other tiny little thing.”
Chaos’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What other thing?”
Gerri’s expression turned serious again. “When you meet her - and trust me, you will meet her - I need you to promise me something. No matter what happens, no matter how complicated things might seem, don’t give up on her. Fight for her, Chaos. She’s worth it.”
Something in Gerri’s tone sent a shiver down Chaos’s spine. He found himself nodding before he even realized what he was doing. “I promise.”
“Excellent!” Gerri clapped her hands together, her cheerful demeanor returning in full force. “Then we’re all set. You’ll be hearing from me soon, Chaos. In the meantime, try to relax and enjoy life a little. Your perfect match is closer than you think.”
As Chaos left the meeting room, his head spinning with everything that had just transpired, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Gerri knew a lot more than she let on.
SIX
The soft glow of Olive’s bedroom’s ambient lighting caught the shimmering gold fabric of her dress, sending cascades of light dancing across her curves. She smoothed her hands down the sides of the gown, feeling the luxurious texture beneath her fingers.
“Well,” she murmured to herself, a hint of her trademark snark creeping into her voice, “if this doesn’t scream ‘I’m in charge and fabulous,’ I don’t know what does.”
The dress hugged her figure in all the right places, the plunging neckline adding a touch of allure without being overly revealing. It spoke of confidence, sophistication, and just a hint of daring - perfect for the chairwoman of a high-profile charity event.
Olive leaned closer to the mirror, carefully applying the final touches to her makeup. A swipe of mascara here, a dab of highlighter there. Her blue eyes sparkled with anticipation, framed by long lashes and subtly smoky eyeshadow.
The scent of vanilla wafted through the air, her favorite perfume a comforting presence amidst the nervous excitement bubbling in her chest. Olive spritzed a bit more on her wristsand behind her ears, the familiar fragrance helping to calm her nerves.
She ran her fingers through her honey-blonde hair, styled in loose, glamorous waves that cascaded over her shoulders. The style had taken nearly an hour to perfect, but the effect was worth it. Olive looked every inch the successful, confident woman she’d worked so hard to become.
“All right, Russo,” she said to her reflection, squaring her shoulders. “Time to go knock ’em dead.”
Olive slipped into her designer heels, adding a few inches to her height and an extra sway to her walk. She grabbed her clutch, double-checking that she had everything she needed - phone, lipstick, event itinerary, and a few breath mints (because you never knew when you might need to charm a potential donor with minty-fresh breath).
As she made her way to the elevator, Olive’s mind raced with last-minute details. The “Love for Books” charity event had been months in the planning, and as chairwoman, the success (or failure) of the evening rested squarely on her shoulders. It was a weight she both relished and feared.
The elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and Olive stepped out into the lobby of her upscale apartment building. The doorman, George, beamed at her as she approached.
“Looking lovely this evening, Ms. Russo,” he said, tipping his hat. “Big night tonight, right?”
Olive smiled warmly. “Thanks, George. And yes, fingers crossed it all goes smoothly.”
“No doubt it will with you in charge,” George replied, opening the door for her. “Break a leg, as they say.”
The cool evening air hit Olive’s skin as she stepped outside, sending a small shiver down her spine. Her car waited at the curb, the driver holding the door open with a respectful nod.
As the car pulled away from the curb, Olive took a deep breath, centering herself. She could do this. She’d organized countless events for her family’s charitable foundation, charmed her way through numerous social gatherings, and built a successful vlog empire. This was just another night, another challenge to conquer.
But even as she tried to reassure herself, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered doubts. What if something went wrong? What if she made a fool of herself in front of New York’s elite? What if-
Olive shook her head, banishing the negative thoughts. “Not tonight, anxiety,” she muttered. “Tonight, we shine.”
The drive to the venue passed in a blur of twinkling city lights and honking horns. Before she knew it, the car pulled up in front of the grand ballroom where the event was being held.
Olive’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the scene. The entrance was decked out in elegant decorations with a red carpet leading up to the doors. Photographers lined the carpet, their cameras flashing as guests arrived.
For a moment, Olive hesitated, her hand on the car door. Then she steeled herself, plastered on her most dazzling smile, and stepped out into the spotlight.
The cameras immediately turned in her direction, a chorus of “Ms. Russo!” and “Olive, over here!” filling the air. Olive paused for a few photos, striking poses she’d perfected over years of social events and vlog appearances.
As she made her way inside, Olive’s eyes widened in appreciation. The ballroom looked even more stunning than she’d imagined. Twinkling fairy lights draped from the ceiling, casting a warm, magical glow over the space. Each table boasted a centerpiece crafted from vintage books with delicate flowers sprouting from between the pages.