33
State Dinner and a Show
Vanessa
The State Dinner was the most opulent event Vanessa had ever seen before.
It was being hosted in the great hall of the National Building Museum. On one end of the central hall, behind one of two sets of gargantuan Corinthian pillars, were numerous round tables decked with white and gold tablecloths. Each was set with ten place settings of china and silver, with the center space hosting an arrangement of various flowers and flickering white candles. Servers in white waistcoats weaved between the furniture in a dance as they carried platters from table to table, offering the guests any number of succulent delicacies to sample at their leisure. Another company of handsome servers waited in the wings, behind the smaller columns that lined the edges of the room, only venturing into the dining area to remove each dirty dish that became available. The men and women sitting at the tables would scarcely finish what was on their plate before it would be removed by one server, a new clean plate placed in the now empty spot by another. One couldn’t help but wonder how much practice it took for the servers to become so efficient, and to never so much as bump shoulders with each other in the process of performing their duties.
In the space between the two sets of massive columns the floor was cleared to serve as a dance area. One corner hosted an assortment of musicians, each playing an orchestral instrument, from violins to French horns, their gentle music drifting throughout the great hall. A number of couples in fancy dress were floating across the stone as they danced to it, swirling around a fountain that bubbled and splashed in the center of the room.
Along the perimeter of the hall, and on each of the balconies above them, there were no less than three-hundred members of the secret service. They stood like dark sentries, guarding the guests of the party. In each corner of the highest balcony there was a sniper, ready to act should anything unexpected occur among the prominent figures on the floor below.
On the far end of the hall, past the diners and the dancers, and behind the second set of large golden columns, there were more tables. The biggest differences between this dining area and the other was a far lesser number of diners, and a line of agents standing between the pillars that separated it from the dance floor. At these tables sat the higher ranking members of the government, including President Wilkins and his cabinet. Three tables to the right of President Wilkins was where Vanessa was currently sitting. To her left was Dixon Ross, Margaret Ross, Grant Cooper, and Senate Majority Leader, Henry Lawrence. To her right, much to her annoyance, was Chance Barron. To his right, filling up the last four seats at the table, were two members of the House that she didn’t know, and two more members of the Senate. Vanessa was doing her best to avoid turning to the right, lest Barron try to pull her into conversation, so she didn’t bother interacting with the other men on that side of the table. That was, until Margaret Ross leaned around her husband to look at Vanessa.
“So, dear,” she said, interrupting the dry political conversation that had occupied the members of their group throughout the dinner. “Are you excited for the wedding?”
“Don’t pester her, Margaret,” Dixon said, “I’m sure she’s had enough wedding talk for a lifetime by now.”
Vanessa was grateful for the Senator’s attempt to put an end to the subject, but Mrs. Ross was not to be dissuaded so easily.
“Oh hush.” She patted Dixon’s hand. “A woman only gets married once,” she paused with a frown, “well, if there are children born, anyway. In no time at all the wedding will be done. We must talk about it all we can while we still have time to do so.”
She smiled, and Vanessa did her best to smile in return.
“Yes, it’s been… great.” Nervous laughter twittered from her lips.
“Come now, darling,” Chance joined in. He slipped a large hand underneath her hair to rest on her bare back, caressing her neck with his fingers.
She began to wish that she had worn a different dress, but had only an hour to get ready for the party after leaving Eddie at the headquarters. Barron directed his next statement to the curious wife of Senator Ross.
“She just picked out the dress this morning, didn’t you sweetheart?”
Vanessa thought he was being generous with his choice of words, given that it was his mother who picked out the dress, but hurried to respond when she felt his hand gripping the back of her neck.
“Yes! It’s very beautiful.” She smiled and nodded at Mrs. Ross.
“I’m sure it is,” the other woman said in a pandering fashion, “I can’t wait to see it in all its splendor.”
Vanessa stopped and looked from Mrs. Ross to Dixon, and back again.
“Oh! You’re going to be there?” To know that Dixon would be in attendance was a soothing balm for her nerves. She wouldn’t have to go through it alone.
“Of course!” Margaret laughed. “Everyone who’s anyone will be there, dear! It’s going to be the biggest party of the year, and the perfect way to close out the decade.”
“I thought that this was the biggest party of the year.” Vanessa looked across the great hall they were in, struggling to imagine an event that could outmatch the State Dinner in attendance or opulence.
The others at the table laughed, as if she had told them a wonderful joke, except for Senator Ross, who only looked at her with a furrowed brow.
“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Margaret announced, standing from the table, and causing all the men to stand as well. “I need to powder my nose. Vanessa,”
She looked up in surprise at the mention of her name.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
Vanessa hurried to stand, willing to take any excuse to get away from the table, and Mrs. Ross linked her arm with hers.
“We can talk where the men can’t hear us.”
The older woman smiled with mischievous energy at those left at the table, dragging Vanessa away from the dining area. They walked in silence past the small columns, the waitstaff, and the secret service men, until they emerged in an alcove with a set of bathrooms. Mrs. Ross pulled her into the ladies room.
Vanessa waited by the row of sinks as the woman did her business in one of the stalls. She tried to ignore the echoing sound of liquid hitting water, for which the tile room seemed designed to amplify, until finally there was the sound of a toilet flushing.
Mrs. Ross emerged from the stall and began to wash her hands at one of the sinks, staring at Vanessa in the mirror while she did so. Vanessa could only keep her eye contact for a few seconds before she had to look away. There was something searching in the old woman’s gaze that made her want to flee the room. She watched from the corner of her eye as the older woman dried her hands on a fluffy white hand towel, tossing it into a basket on the floor next to the sinks when she was done. And then the woman’s heels clacked on the tile as she walked over and stood in front of her, analyzing her, and saying nothing. Vanessa’s eyes shifted to the woman and away again several times.
“Are… are you ready to return to the table, Mrs. Ross?”
“Do you want to marry Barron?”
“What?” She faced the woman fully, whose searching gaze still pierced her and stripped her bare. Was it so obvious?
“You need to work on your poker face, dear.”
Vanessa’s shoulders sagged. “Do you think everyone noticed?”
The older woman smirked. “No, especially not the men. They’re oblivious on the best of days.”
Vanessa nodded and sighed, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to get through the rest of this night if his hands keep wandering over to my chair.”
“I’ll have Dixon take you on the floor for a dance, give you a break from the man.”
Her mind was wiped clean by her surprise, before being flooded with thought again. Aside from placing orders for flowers or gifts for the woman, she hadn’t had a chance to interact with her outside of the two phone calls she could never mention. She wasn’t who Vanessa had expected her to be. “Thank you, Mrs. Ross.”
“Margaret, please,” the woman smiled, “I’m not that old.”
Vanessa returned her smile.
“Though it won’t just be this night, you understand? You’ll be playing the role of his wife at every event and appearance for the rest of your life, including when he becomes President one day. You’re aware that he’s the favored young party member to replace Wilkins once he retires in the next thirty years?”
“Thirty years?” She felt numb at the thought of it, to spend thirty years and more on Barron’s arm and in his bed. Margaret’s hand touched her arm, pulling her focus back.
“If you truly cannot fathom the idea of spending your life with that man, there may be a different path that you can take.”
“What do you mean?” Vanessa asked, and felt something being pressed into her hand. Looking down, she was holding a worn card from the Iris Collective. Mrs. Ross was sharing with her the only out that women had in this city. “Oh…”
“If you decide you want out, you only need to call the number on this card. They’ll help you.”
“Yes. I’ve heard about this,” she whispered as she stared at the card with an emotion that fell somewhere between sadness and fondness.
The woman in front of her had no idea that she was already a member of the organization that she offered to her as a lifeline, and that she had already refused that sort of help. Mrs. Ross was only doing what she was told to do, to pass the card onto another woman in need before her own extraction was complete. Warmth filled Vanessa’s chest at the knowledge that, no matter how bleak her own future may be, the organization that she had helped to create was spreading in whispered conversations across the city, even in the highest levels of their society. They had set out to make a difference, and in her hands she held the proof of their success. Reaching out, she pulled the woman in front of her into a hug.
“Oh!” Mrs. Ross stiffened before bringing hesitant hands up to pat Vanessa’s shoulders a few times.
Vanessa almost laughed at the woman’s awkwardness, and let go of her hold on her. “Thank you. This means more than you know.”
“Yes, well. Don’t let anyone see you with that card.” She moved to the door and stopped, turning back to Vanessa. “And don’t tell Dixon.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
The woman looked at her for another beat, nodded, and opened the door.
They walked back to the table, and Mrs. Ross pretended to laugh at something Vanessa had said once they were within earshot of the men. Dixon pulled out Margaret’s chair for her to sit, and the woman looked from him to Vanessa with a pointed gaze. Barron pulled out her own chair for her.
“Vanessa,” Senator Ross said, stopping her with a touch to her shoulder before she could sit. He offered his hand. “Would you accompany me to the dance floor?”
“And leave your wife without a partner?” Barron’s voice was polite, but hard, as he smiled at them.
“Oh, no,” Mrs. Ross answered for her husband. “I’m far too old for the activity.”
Mrs. Ross winked at her when Barron looked back to Dixon, and Vanessa couldn’t help the smirk that spread on her face.
“It’s ok.” She turned to Barron. “No harm in dancing with the boss.”
Taking Senator Ross’s offered hand, they walked away from Barron’s piercing eyes and onto the dance floor. He turned her to face him, one hand cradling hers in a soft grip, and the other coming to rest on her upper back. She was once again struck with the warmth of the man’s hands on her cold skin, and shivered as a chill raced over her in a shockwave.
“Are you cold?” he asked as they began to move among the other dancers on the floor.
“I’m always cold,” she grumbled.
“Perhaps an outfit with more cover next time?”
She blushed. She was far from indecent, the front of her dress coming to rest at her collarbone. The fabric was loose and floor length, obscuring most of her body, but the back was low. A couple of skinny straps over her shoulders held it up, the back plunging in a wave to the top of her hips.
“I didn’t have much time to get ready. I hadn’t considered that it may be cold inside the building.”
“Ah, yes,” he said in understanding. “Dress shopping for the wedding, was it?”
She averted her eyes. “Yes. Though it was nothing as pleasant as Barron made it seem. His mother controlled the entire process, including picking the dress I would be wearing.”
“I’ve met her a few times. She’s a formidable opponent.”
Vanessa laughed. “Yeah, you could say that.”
They lapsed into an easy silence for a few minutes, one song bleeding into another as they continued to dance. Dixon’s thumb brushed her shoulder blade in an absent repetition.
“Has Barron bothered you more than necessary in your wedding preparations?”
“No. He cornered me to tell me about the mandatory dress fitting, but aside from that he’s kept his distance. I haven’t been involved in the planning at all.”
“Probably for the best.”
“He did…” She stopped herself.
Ross looked down at her. “What did he do?”
“He told me that I didn’t have to worry about him forcing himself on me, that he wanted me to remain unsoiled before the wedding night.”
The feeling of nausea that had assaulted her when Barron had said the words came over her again as she repeated them. Dixon’s hand clenched around hers, and his face darkened.
“Dixon?”
“Hm?” He shook his head in a small movement and looked at her, his expression back to neutral.
“You’re hurting my hand.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looked flustered, and softened his hold of her hand, but stiffened again as his eyes looked over her head. “It looks like Barron is on his way to cut in.”
“Great,” she sighed.
“I can tell him no.”
“And start a scene in front of the entire hall? No. How can I marry him if I can’t even bring myself to dance with him?”
“Are you sure,” he asked, but she didn’t have time to answer as Barron appeared next to them. For all intents and purposes, he was the picture of courtesy as he flashed his perfect teeth at them.
“I think you’ve monopolized my fiancée long enough.”
Dixon sighed, playing his part as well as Barron did, and stepped away from her. “It appears that I have,” he said, bowing his head at her. “Thank you for the dance.”
She responded with a smile, and she and Barron watched as Mrs. Ross tapped on Dixon’s shoulder, and they began to dance.
Barron’s charming smile was replaced with annoyance as he pulled her to him. “So much for being too old for dancing,” he mumbled.
Vanessa ducked her head to hide her smirk.
“So, talk about me?”
She looked up at him, keeping her face as neutral as she could, given the hate that burned within her whenever she was in his company. “Is that what you want me to tell you?”
He rolled his eyes at her response and pulled her closer until his mouth was next to her ear. “You think I couldn’t see him touching you, the old pervert. Or did you like it?” His thumb caressed the back of her shoulder in an imitation of Dixon’s movements, but with none of the warmth. “Maybe that’s why you don’t want me, too busy dreaming of someone… older.”
She pulled back and glared up at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Senator Ross is more akin to a father to me.”
“You already have a father,” Barron said, his eyes narrowing. “I’ve met him.”
“Yes, and so you know what a terrible father he is, because only a terrible father would marry off his daughter to a man for a promise of money.”
He laughed, a whispering sound, pulling her closer to him again as they continued to dance. He stared down at her with a knowing smirk. “I didn’t pay for your hand, Vanessa, not that it would have taken much.”
His words echoed in her hollow chest.
“But, he said… he said that you made a generous offer.”
“I did,” he looked amused at her confusion, leaning his head down to whisper so only she could hear him, “I agreed that, should he sign you over to me, I would keep certain… activities of yours to myself.”
“How could you—” Her feet fumbled, and she would have crashed to the ground were it not for the strength of his arms holding her up.
“Careful there, wouldn’t want to cause a scene in front of all these important people. What would your Senator Ross think of you?”
She looked at Dixon where he was dancing with Mrs. Ross, laughing at something she had said to him.
“Do you think he’d be shocked to learn that his,” the back of Barron’s hand ran down her cheek, “favorite toy is secretly a treasonous little whore?”
Mrs. Ross reached out her hand and clasped Dixon’s arm.
“What do you think he’d do to you if he found out?”
Dixon put a hand on Mrs. Ross’s cheek, and then her forehead.
“I’ll keep your secret for you, I won’t even turn in your friends, if you promise to obey me.”
Mrs. Ross stumbled, and then fell to the floor, Dixon’s arms holding her as she collapsed. Vanessa stepped in the direction of the couple, but was stopped by a hand that held her upper arm like a vice. She turned back to glare at Barron.
“Let me go.”
“No,” he whispered. “You’re mine, not his.”
“Let me go or I’ll scream loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear me.”
His eyes burned with anger that matched the intensity of her own. As the commotion behind her built, their silent battle raged. He yanked her closer, the rest of the hall too distracted to notice.
“You promise me,” he whispered, his breath on her ear, “or your whole secret world comes crashing down.”
Her eyes closed, teeth aching from how hard she clenched her jaw. “Fine.”
When she tried to leave his side again, he pulled her against his chest, holding tight to both of her arms.
“Fine, what?” He asked, his forehead against hers.
“Fine,” she repeated, staring at her own hands splayed on the front of his suit. Inhaling a slow breath to calm her stomach, in a whisper that was hardly audible, she told him what he wanted to hear. “I promise.”
Finally, his fingers released their bruising grip. She wasted no time in turning away from him, pushing her way through the gathering crowd. In the far corner of the room, the secret service was rushing President Wilkins from the hall.
She slipped between the last people blocking her way. On the floor in front of her was Margaret Ross’s ashen form, Dixon kneeling over her. He was tapping her cheeks with a hand, trying to wake her. Two of the emergency medical staff that were enlisted for the event made it through the crowd, pushing Dixon out their way as they started working on the unconscious woman. Vanessa rushed forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him back to give the medical staff room to do their job. He stood up and grasped her hand in his.
“This doesn’t make sense,” she whispered as she watched the scene unfolding in front of her. They had planned to extract Mrs. Ross tonight, but not until after the party. “This can’t be happening.”
Dixon squeezed her hand as he watched the medical personnel pump a syringe full of medication into an IV line they had installed in her arm. They checked her pulse after doing so, and then began performing compressions when they failed to find one.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. She was supposed to end her night safe in the knowledge that she had saved Mrs. Ross, not watch the woman die on the floor in front of her, hours before their planned rescue.
“They’ll save her,” she whispered. “They’ll save her.”
But as she watched the horror unfold in front of her, the efforts of the medical staff proved to be in vain. After more than ten minutes of compressions, and several shocks from a portable defibrillator, one medic checked her pulse one last time, shook his head, and began to unhook the machine from the large stickered pads that they had placed on her body. Mrs. Ross lay pale and undignified before the silent crowd, her dress ripped open by the ones who had tried to save her.
As the medical staff left to grab a gurney, Dixon let go of her hand and stepped forward. He shrugged off his black suit jacket, leaving him in a black vest and black high-collared shirt, draping the jacket over his wife’s still body to hide her exposed skin from the crowd of onlookers. Kneeling down next to her, he grabbed her limp hand in his, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead.
As the crowd parted to allow the gurney though, he stood and backed away, his hand searching for hers. Vanessa slipped her hand in his, and he latched onto it like a lifeline as they watched the men load the body onto the gurney, removing his jacket and replacing it with a blanket. One of the paramedics shoved the garment at Dixon, and then they were pushing the gurney away. In the absence of the spectacle of Mrs. Ross’s death, all eyes turned to the Senator.
“Dixon?” She couldn’t think of anything to say to him. His face was cold and stoney as he stared at the floor.
Dozens of crystal beads marked the place where his wife’s body had just been. They must have come loose when the paramedics cut open the dress. After several agonizing seconds, his head tilted toward her, his eyes staying on the jewels that sparkled like so many stars on the floor.
“Get me out of here.”
He didn’t need to tell her twice. Placing a hand on his back, she pushed him with her in the direction of the exit. The wall that was the stunned crowd stood still as they approached.
“Move!”
They jumped at her yell, but began to clear a path. She spotted Grant among the many onlookers and caught his eye. He shoved his way through the crowd until he was within earshot.
“Tell the driver to pull the car up.”
He nodded, disappearing in the crowd again to do her bidding.
The SUV was pulling up by the time they reached the exit. She opened the back door and Dixon climbed in, sliding over to the far side of the seat so she could climb in after him.
“Do you know where they took Mrs. Ross?” she asked the driver.
“Yes, Miss, they took her to Washington University.”
“Take us there.”
The whine of police sirens sounded in the distance as they pulled away.
Thank you for reading this chapter! Let me know what you thought with a like and comment. <3
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so much in this chapter!! i don't know how to feel about margaret and dixon, can't wait for the next chapters to drop!!!
Another great chapter!