the empty service hallway gave him no clues. He guessed and turned left, almost running down a bellhop who gave him an annoyed look. He apologized and started jogging, but when he came to a dead end, he cursed.
Damn it.
“Samson?”
Samson pivoted. If there had been more witnesses, he might have been ashamed of the yelp that fell from his lips at the sight of the small woman dressed all in black behind him.
Like, really, all in black, from the tips of her black satin heels to the small veil that covered her eyes. He bent his knees and peered under the veil, pressing a hand over his racing heart. “Aunt Belle?”
“Oh yes.” She pushed up the veil, round blue eyes gazing up at him. “It’s me.”
Samson softened. His aunt had been eccentric for as long as he’d known her, which was as long as he could remember. She and Uncle Joe had started dating before he was born. She was the reason he existed; she had, in fact, matchmade his parents.
Aunt Belle was both intensely private and adored attention, depending on the size of the audience, her general mood, and the position of the stars. “Why are you dressed like . . .” Like a ghost attending your rich ex-husband’s wedding to his much younger wife? “Like that?”
Aunt Belle petted her hat. “I wanted to watch the crowd’s reaction to you, incognito. They loved you! How exciting.”
Samson had no doubt people had noticed her more dressed like this than they otherwise would have, but he wasn’t about to upset her by telling her that. “Ah, I see.”
“I noticed you running out here. Is something wrong?”
“I was trying to find a woman. Did you see her? She left right before I did. About this tall.” He placed his hand at his collarbone. “Black, beautiful, hair all pinned up, dressed in a red”—he gestured to the length of his body, unsure of what to call it—“one-piece thingy.” He glanced around the deserted hallway again, like it would yield clues as to where Claire had gone.
Claire. If that was her real name. He’d googled Claire + Los Angeles after she’d unmatched him and discovered quickly what a fool’s errand that was.
Annabelle shrugged. “I did not, sorry. Who was she?”
He puffed out his cheeks, trying to swallow his disappointment. “Someone I knew. Or thought I knew.” He looked at his feet. “It’s not important.”
“Someone you knew . . .” Her eyebrows rose. “Biblically?”
His face turned red-hot. He’d forgotten that Aunt Belle’s sweet, matronly facade hid a blunt tongue. “Aunt Belle.”
“Ah,” she clucked. “I know that tone. I said something an old lady shouldn’t.”
“You said something an aunt shouldn’t.”
“I never made an honest man out of Joe, so I’m not technically your aunt.”
Not for lack of trying on Joe’s part. But Annabelle had been adamant about maintaining her independence, even to the point of keeping a separate residence. “Still my aunt.”
She adjusted her silly hat. A tendril of bright red hair fell out of the black lace and touched her round cheek. “Always your aunt.”
Samson’s spirits rose, his natural response around Belle.
She’s why you’re here. You’re not here to chase a ghost from your past. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the silent hallway far too loud. “You know what? Let’s get back to the party. I’ve barely had a chance to meet anyone.”
“You did your part, Samson. If you want to go up to your room and rest, you can.”
He wasn’t even close to doing his part. He owed Aunt Belle, and not only because she’d been his emotional bulwark since Uncle Joe had passed. “Nah.”
“One shouldn’t do anything that doesn’t serve them.”
“You’re paying me. Trust me, it serves me.”
Annabelle pursed her rosebud lips. Joe had used to call her cute, an adjective she hadn’t loved, but there was no other way to describe her. She was cute.
“You always were such a disciplined boy.” Annabelle’s smile was sly. “You must be really interested in this girl to let her lead you away from your job.”
Uh-oh.
Annabelle wasn’t entirely rational when it came to her business or love. He had no doubt Annabelle was genuinely hopeful something romantic would come of this, like he’d match with someone during the course of the campaign and fall madly in love with her.
A connection like that felt as far away as the moon to Samson. He’d sailed through life flirting with long-term relationships but never quite landing in one.
What would you have done if you’d caught your Cinderella