Page 115 of Fall
Once we’re inside, he starts to give us a rundown of how tonight’s event will go. We enjoy mini bottles of wine from the tiny cooler, and before we know it, we arrive at a vast estate that holds a number of buildings.
“Welcome to the Vault, Mr. Bryant. I believe a Ms. Hawton and a Ms. Monroe are joining you?” the valet says as we slide out of the limo.
Taylor just nods, sticks out his elbows for us to grab on to, and walks to the front door.
“Whenever you ladies are ready to leave, just let me know,” he whispers.
As soon as we reach the top stair, the grand entrance doors open. We’re greeted by several servants as we make our way to a luxurious ballroom. According to Taylor, we’re early, but there are quite a few people already here. I scan the room, but everyone here is unfamiliar and clearly comes from old money.
“This place is amazing,” Celeste murmurs as she admires the ostentatious decor.
Taylor smiles at her and then at me. “This is the Astor Estate,” he says with pride. “The building we’re in is called the Vault. It’s supposed to give the impression that what happens here, stays here.”
My eyes grow wide. “The Astor Estate?” I question. “You mean, Caleb lives here?”
“His parents do. He used to, I think. They have an estate much like this one in California somewhere.” He shrugs and leads us to the bar and snack table.
I walk slightly behind them, admiring the art that adorns the walls. Many of them look like originals that must have cost a small fortune. Every detail from the wainscoting to the curtain fabrics was meticulously selected to match the rest of the decor. It’s all too audacious and loud for my taste, but pretty nonetheless.
I smile as a few older gentlemen greet Taylor and nod to Celeste and me. Seeing Taylor like this is somewhat comical. I never would have thought he had it in him, but every day he surprises me.
I’m glad he and Celeste have finally succumbed to their feelings. If I didn’t know them any better, they would both fit into this world with ease.
About an hour after our arrival, we hear the sound of dinner bells, and we are shepherded to our seats like cattle. There are senators at our table, along with two police commissioners and their wives.
I look over at the head table. It is sitting on a dais and facing the room. As soon as I do, I momentarily lose my breath. I watch as Senator Astor and his wife are being seated, and an emcee heads to the mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” The master of ceremonies announces. “The man and lady of the house greet you in kind and do hope that you enjoy dinner.”
He continues to speak about tonight’s events in honor of some charity that I’ve never heard of and informs us of our dinner options. But I don’t pay much attention. Instead, I rub my thigh where my butterfly knife is being held by a garter belt and daydream about slicing his throat.
“Hey,” Celeste whispers. “Are you okay?”
I shake out of my reverie, straighten my spine, and take a sip of my chardonnay. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
She raises an eyebrow, drops her eyes to the leg I’m squeezing, and then back to me. “Really?”
“All right. Can you cover for me for a little bit? This is a lot more than I expected, and I just need some air.”
She gives me a worried look. “We can just leave.”
“No. I want you to have a good time,” I plead as our dinner plates are being set in front of us. “I promise, I’ll be fine. I’ll be back in a little bit. Just don’t tell Taylor.”
She shakes her head but smiles as I excuse myself from the table. I exit the ballroom and start wandering the halls, when I see an older gentleman with a familiar face.
A young servant greets the older gentlemen. “Good evening, Mr. Bianchi. Can I help you find your way?”
Why is Alik’s grandfather here?
His eyes scan her body appreciatively, making me cringe. I’ve never had an issue with him personally, but the way he’s looking at her makes me glad we never formally met.
“I’m going downstairs,” he says. “You’re welcome to join me.”
The servant straightens her spine. “Sorry, Mr. Bianchi. This is where I’m stationed tonight. But please, do enjoy.”
Staying close to the curtains, I reach down to slip off my heels and follow him into what appears to be a smoking room. I take a quick glance around to see if there’s anyone else in the room, and thankfully, there isn’t.
I watch from the door as he walks to an expansive Greek painting that covers the entire wall. Bianchi, Sr. presses his hand in between Zeus, Aphrodite, and Dionysus, and to my surprise, the wall starts to move. Standing in the shadows of the hallway, I watch as he goes inside the wall.