Chapter 12

**G R A C E**
The Beach Garden is not really a garden, it is a restaurant, a high luxury restaurant. I’m awestruck with the beauty of the place, so much that most of my walking is being done by Sophia, dragging me after her. I am also a little intimidated.

The people around me are not dressed ‘casual’, at least not the ‘casual’ I thought. I see silk and velvet dresses on almost all the ladies, their purses all branded, their faces sculpted to perfection with evident traces of surgeries, their hair alive, their makeup marvellous. I think I have already counted fifteen Loubotins and I have only walked in two minutes ago.

Sophia attracted attention the moment we walked in.
All eyes were on her as she confidently led the way through the restaurant, her designer gown flowing behind her like a waterfall of silk. Heads turned and whispers followed in her wake, but she seemed unfazed by the attention. She was in her element, basking in the spotlight as if she were born for it.
As we made our way to our table, I couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this world of opulence and extravagance. My simple dress and minimal makeup paled in comparison to the other patrons around us. I felt a pang of self-consciousness, a sudden awareness of my own shortcomings.

I close my eyes and take in another deep breath, trying to find comfort, but the mixed scents on my body only end up reminding me of Alex. I shoot my eyes open, forcing myself to blink his face away. Instead, I find him walking right up to me. Us. Of course, he’s not coming to me.

I try to pretend to not notice him approaching, my eyes wander to the other side of the restaurant where I can see the ocean getting darker and darker towards the horizon, but my nose catches a whiff of his cologne–one I’m beginning to get a little too familiar with. My gaze turns of its own accord and when I look at him, he is already looking at me. The intensity of our eye contact, even though brief, makes me catch my breath.

“You okay?” Sophia asks me, still holding my better arm in the hook of her elbow.

“What? Yeah! Why?” I try a laugh, but the shake hurts my shoulders, the cramp has grown, apparently.

“You gasped,” she says, concern evident in her eyes. I try to find something to say for a minute when Alex interrupts and saves me, his eyes fall where my hand meets Sophia’s and the disapproval is evident in the way his jaw ticks. I swiftly free my hand from her and turn away from them before he can be any more annoyed with my presence. Not to mention, standing at anything closer than an arm's distance to him makes me feel uncomfortably light-headed and squirmish.

As I walk away, I feel his eyes on me, more specifically on my bare back, and I regret not thinking about the backless-ness of the dress before. I should’ve got a shawl or something, it’s starting to also get cold.
I’m lost soon as I step away from them. Having no idea what to do, I decide to go for the safest option and find a seat at the emptiest side of the bar. Getting on the stool with only one hand working is a struggle, but I manage.

“Care for a drink, miss?” I turn to find a lean and tall Italian bartender smiling at me, but it is the formal smile, the one they are taught to wear for the rich folks.

“Um, no thanks.” I smile back and turn to face the party.

“Come on, I cannot leave your hands empty, we are with strict instructions to get everyone here drunk, every night.” I look at him, he continues to give me that smile.

I sign and decide to agree, only because he is cute. “Um, can I get a virgin mojito?”

He looks at me like I’m joking. “Seriously?”

I nod.

“Nothing that’s virgin at a party like this is safe, trust me.” I cringe at the innuendo. “How about some champagne?”

“No the bubbles disturb my gut.” I try to look around for a different seat.

“So a vodka then?”

“No, can I get some water?” I say at last when he won’t give up. “No ice, please.”

“Sure,” he says with the same smile. After a minute of work, he slides me a glass. “Bottoms up!”

I touch the glass to my lips, suddenly feeling thirsty. I take a big gulp but it is all thrown out soon as it slides in. I jump off my stool as my mouth burns. “What the hel-” I try to curse but my aggression is suppressed by my coughs.

“What the fuck did you serve the lady?” A warm masculine voice sounds from behind me, making me turn and step back. He has soft features yet a sharp look to his face, and weirdly enough I think I’ve seen him before.

He exchanges a few heated comments with the bartended that I cannot keep up with since he speaks in Italian. He guy behind the counter has dropped his head and looks a little too sorry for the little mistake he has done. He almost looks scared.

“It’s okay. I probably placed the wrong order.” I lie to the man, my hand going to his arm to calm him down. He looks at me and his eyes soften.

“You’re just too kind, Grace.” He says then bites his lips, the sound of my name on unfamiliar lips startles me, “Sorry, can I call you that? I’m sorry, I probably shouldn't, I haven’t even introduced myself.”
I smile in agreement.

He puts his hand in the pocket inside his blazer and pulls out a silk handkerchief. “I’m Carl, Carlisle, actually, but that makes me sound old. It was my great-grandfather’s name, so.”

I take the napkin and use it to wipe the vodka off my dress and chest. “Thank you, Carl. I’m sorry for-”

“You’re good, don’t apologies. Beautiful women don’t look good apologising.” He is smooth with it, I can feel blush creeping up on me. “Though I might have to recheck that theory now.”

I smile, but I try to keep it controlled. “How do you know me?” I ask. A new bartender who has taken the place of the other guy slides me a glass of clear liquid.

“It’s water this time.” Carl says, studying my confused face. “If it isn’t, he will lose his brain.” My jaw drops when he taps his waist, and it rings like metal, though it could just be his belt. “I’m kidding?” He adds without sounding very sure.

I only nod in response.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says, his hand extends towards me, asking me to give him mine. I roll my shoulder, trying to check if it is movable. It stings, but I still do it, his fingers close around mine, warm and soft. “You’re studying criminal law, yes?”

“Yes,” I say as he starts to walk me with him around the restaurant. “You’re a friend of Sophia’s?”

He studies me for a second, “Yes, you could say that.” I frown at his puzzling response, but he doesn’t catch it, his eyes roam around the place to fall on Sophia who’s talking to a new group of people, accompanied by her brother.

Carl next to me is talking about something related to criminal law, I think he just told me he is a lawyer too, I’m not sure, I’m too busy trying not to look at Alex’s face. I fail in exactly 25 seconds, and when my gaze travels up his arm to his face, he is already looking at me.

I look away, biting the inside of my cheeks. Shit.

“Let’s dance.” Carl says snapping me out of my Alex haze.

I look at the dance floor, the music is salsa, my arm is too stiff for so much movement. “Salsa? I don’t know, I’m not very good.” I lie but he is not taking in.

He holds my hand tighter and starts pulling me along, any strength I put in resistance only ends up adding to my cramp. “I’ll teach you, from what I know you’re a fast learner.” He says it so softly, I’d agree if it wasn’t physically impossible for me to do so. “Come.”

“Carl, I can’t-”

“Aren’t you trying a little too hard, Cedro?” I don’t have to look up to know who it is, the chill that runs down my spine is telling enough.