Page 6 of The Bratva's Virgin
Then, as if on cue, soft laughter rang out in the ballroom.
I didn’t hide the blush that crept up my cheeks. Good thing they found the accidental blurt amusing. These socialites were individuals with high profiles. One slip up, and goodbye to everything I’d worked tirelessly to organize this fundraiser.
Each one located their donation tables and watched me. Their intent gazes searing hot on my face. The bright light didn’t help. I gripped the black microphone with one hand, clinched a fistful of my dress, and wet my lips with a swipe of my tongue.
Then, I started.
****
“Great speech!”
“So inspiring.”
“How does a million dollars sound?”
“I’ll start with two hundred thousand.”
“Those children are so lucky to have someone like you thinking about them.”
The praises didn’t stop.
A thunderous applause followed immediately after I had spoken the words from my heart. I was handed checks as soon as I mingled with the guests or passed by a table. Carla stayed by my side, stapling each piece of cherished paper into a folder, and handing them short donor forms to fill out. The guests were happy, and their happiness equaled being extremely generous. This was a good thing.An incredibly good thing.
I was happy too. At least, one of my dreams was coming true.
I smiled so wide and hard, that my cheekbones hurt. With every handshake or gentle pat on the back, bits of the speech came back to me.
“About two months ago, the dream and desire to offer help to homeless children around the world was born. I couldn’t stand their lack and suffering. I shared my thoughts with a few acquaintances, my father included among the few, and I remember one of them saying, ‘I’m sorry, Vanessa, but I fail to see what global greatness a fashion design student can do for those kids.’ I felt stunned, dumbfounded even. How can a person be so short-sighted?”
“Ah, Vanessa!”
An older woman waved me over.
Mrs. Eleanor Baker. One of the most respectable fashion icons in the city. She sported short salt and pepper hair and wore a stiff signature smile. With an added bounce to my steps and pounding pulses, I scooted closer to her table. She embraced me and exchanged air kisses.
Old money. She smelled like old money.
The corner of her thin lips lifted, and she extended a check. “The thrift store part moved me.”
Thanks to Carla.
I expressed gratitude, handed the check over to my assistant, and sauntered to another donor.
“‘Fair enough,’I’d saidand decided to make a fashion statement just to prove my point. I got this,” I’d pointed to my dress, “at a thrift store, and I’ll tell you why...”
Another check in the file.
We rounded another table.
“For obvious reasons, ladies, and gentlemen. I am in a position to help these innocent children who have done absolutely nothing to deserve their present fate. I can save their lives and do a great service to society. If I need money to do this, why should I spend it on an expensive dress that I will never wear again after tonight??”
An unpleasant warm squeeze on my shoulder and a fat check fluttered before my eyes at the same time. I stiffened but accepted, that was what I was there for. “Thank you very much, Mr. Martin.”
He had pale skin and was tall and skinny. Had long bony fingers, two snaggleteeth, and messy red hair. I’d heard he was a famous scientist back in the day. It sure looked like he spent a lot of hours in a laboratory.
“Lovely dress by the way.” He leaned closer. Put his lips close to my ear. I held an urge to gag. “Though, I would have given almost anything to see you in a hot red sexy dress.”
I took a step back.