Natalie Anderson - The Royal House of Karedes - One Family

Now more than ever, she needed to prove him wrong.

THE exhibition opening at the contemporary art gallery was a do that many of the socialites had been hyped up about for days. It was going to be the most fabulous party, darling, everyone who was anyone was going to be there—the Premier of the State, the actors, the models and, yes, even the newest princess in the city.

Liss had been looking forward to it simply for the fun it promised, but now she was even keener given her current task. If it was that fabulous then she wanted to know why. What was it that made one party so much more successful than another? She intended to start analysing, not just enjoying.

She arrived only a little late and looked around, taking in the décor, the drama of the entrance, the ambience and atmosphere as well as the practicalities—who took the coats and bags and where they put them, how the drinks were being served and the nibbles were being presented. She slowly walked around the perimeter, for once not going straight into the centre of the action. Instead she stood back, trying to take in the whole picture.

‘Taking notes?’ An all-too-familiar sarcastic voice at her shoulder finally made her pay attention to the other guests—well, one in particular.

She turned slowly to face him, giving herself time to hide the involuntary smile. The sight of him in a tux would always make her smile and her body sizzle—she mentally dove into a tub of ice. ‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ She registered the wariness in his expression and chilled down further.

‘Tell me what you see, then. What can you learn from this party?’

She decided to take the question at face value and ignore the suggestion of cynical disbelief. ‘I like the way there are so many wait staff no one is going to have a problem getting a drink or something to snack on.’

He didn’t look overly impressed. ‘I guess it’s always good to satisfy appetites. You wouldn’t want anyone to be left hungry for more.’

She shot him a quick sideways look but his face was bland.

‘Actually hungry for more is a good thing,’ she declared, determined not to agree with him. ‘Having enough, or, worse, overindulging, can leave a sickly taste. You want them to look back on the night wishing they could have had more, could have stayed for longer. Wishing there was another party just like it the next night.’

‘But there won’t be, will there? The situation can’t be replicated. So aren’t you in danger of everyone leaving with a feeling of disappointment?’

‘All good things must come to an end.’ She fell back on cliché. ‘Better to have everyone finish on a high rather than overtired and no longer wanting the indulgence.’

He stared at her for a moment too long and her discomfort increased. They were just talking parties, right? Because if they weren’t, she felt the need to point out he was the one who’d broken up their own little private party the other day a tad early for her liking. She was the one left disappointed. She was the one reliving humiliation now with warming cheeks.

Rapidly she moved on to another point. ‘But the music is too loud, that’s a basic no-no. People can’t hear each other talk.’

‘Do they really want to talk, though? And if they do, they have to get closer to hear. Isn’t that a good thing?’

She looked at him, realised he was standing closer than convention and felt the heat rise more. ‘It rather depends on what you want to get out of the occasion. What’s the point of the party?’

‘All the best parties are the ones where people hook up.’ His smile made an appearance—the caustic one. ‘And it gives the other guests something to talk about. They all love a little gossip.’

He looked around, seeming to enter the spirit of analysis while she tried to figure him out. Was he flirting? Quite what they were analysing and why was a little fuzzy to her. That, combined with the aftermath of the kiss earlier in the week, had her on the defensive.

‘What about the lighting? It’s a little bright, isn’t it?’he asked.

‘It’s an art gallery, James.’ She relished the rare opportunity to make a comment as witheringly as he so often did.

‘Yeah, but it could be more subtle. More intimate. Intimate at parties is good.’

‘Why?’

‘So people can relax, get to know each other. Have a good time.’

She decided his provocative talk was deliberate, knew she should ignore him, but she couldn’t help biting. ‘Tell me, James, is it a party I’m planning for you or an orgy?’

By now the wary look had completely vanished and his eyes were brimming with appreciation. She refused to look at his mouth with its broad smile and white teeth and the glimpse of tongue—now she knew what that tongue could do.

‘An orgy? There’s a thought. Lots of nymphs on order?’

That really got her back up. She wasn’t interested in being at a party where his main aim was to eye up the talent. ‘I’m not sure I can do this job for you, James. It seems it’s a dating service you want.’

‘Actually, no, I don’t need help getting dates. But I am surprised to find you standing alone like this. Where’s your posse of admirers?’

‘Posse?’

‘Yeah.’ Suddenly all humour was gone. His eyes had gone like daggers. ‘Ever thought you might be better off with quality rather than quantity?’

Liss clammed. Exactly what was he implying? She’d learnt to be careful when it came to men. There were guys out there more than happy to kiss and tell—packs of lies. While she didn’t much care what the rest of the world thought, she did find it easier to go out with an assortment of men—allowing none of them too close. It kept them, and everyone else, guessing and none of them were able to assume privileges or presume intimacy.

But it did upset her that those who were supposed to be closest to her—who ought to know her better than anyone—chose to think the worst. This was why her brothers’ heavy-handedness rankled. She might be a party girl, but she wasn’t promiscuous. Was that what James thought?

That kiss had been a colossal mistake. She’d never reacted like that before—never wanted someone with that rough and ready and right-now-before-the-excitement-kills-me kind of wanting. Did he think that she’d be like that with just anyone? Staggered at the idea, she painfully recognised what it meant—he really did only see her as a shallow party princess.

The silence had gone on and she was too thrown to think of a comeback. But then it seemed he lowered his sword. He looked back around the room again. ‘OK. What else can you tell me? How else could this do be better organised?’

She focused on the question. ‘There isn’t enough seating—the age range here is wide and frankly most women like to sit down and have a good old gossip now and then. Getting the balance right between too much seating and making the guests move and mingle can be tricky. I don’t think they’ve got it right here. And not only is the music a little too loud, it’s not a great selection—I know we’re in an avant-garde gallery and they’re setting the scene, but even a little melody would be good. This stuff is just noise and it’s not helping people relax. On the other hand, I think the lighting is excellent—it draws your eye to the pieces on show, which is the point of the party after all. Lastly I think the cocktails are delicious.’

She actually saw a smile on his face—a genuinely warm one. But in the next instant the softness left his eyes and caution re-entered.

‘About the other day…’His voice lowered, became serious.

He wasn’t going to do a post-mortem, was he? She’d dissected and analysed every moment of that kiss enough already. That and his subsequent speedier-than-lightning escape. She wasn’t about to have him shovel another pile of dirt on an episode she’d already tried to bury. So she cut him off.