Quinn's Mansion. Los Angeles, California.

Expecting her heart to cease hammering in her chest anytime soon is an impossibility. Her heart feels as if it's about to fly out of her chest and when she tries to speak, her voice is choked up with so many different emotions at once that she's left frighteningly breathless despite having not uttered a single word. Colby's state mirrors hers, the only thing he seem capable of doing is smiling and gazing into her eyes. The beat of his heart echoing faintly in her ears and thrumming wildly under her palm when she presses a hand above his clothed chest convey something much deeper and meaningful than the magical words he'd spoken mere seconds ago. The heart she'd longed for that morning, the heart she once thought will never be hers, now vibrate under her palm and unlike that morning, she's now certain, without a shred of doubt in her mind, that his heartbeat sing her name.

'"I think I'm falling in love with you, Rebecca.'" Reminiscing the tone of voice with which he had said those words--the genuine sincerity and love--sends a shiver down her spine, fills her with calm and peace, a sense of security and comfort. For it is hers now. The one thing she wants more than anything else she can ever wish from him. His heart. It belongs to her and hers belongs to him. But the joy flaring within her won't allow her to say that to him. The joy is so sharp that it steals her breath away and renders her body into a delightful, shaking mess.

She's only able to throw her head back with a buzzing laugh, filled with happiness and contentment as he settles his arms around her waist and pulls her away from the closet. Her neatly, ironed gown possibly getting all wrinkled up, is the farthest thing from her mind as he draws her flush tight against him. She concentrates on the heat of his body warming her through the clothes standing in their way of meeting skin to skin, his hard, muscular frame against her soft, supple one and his large, radiant smile which dissolves all her fears and anxiousness about the party tonight. He's all she ever needed tonight. All she ever needs to be able to survive through the ordeal of relieving what is possibly the worst phase in her life; Jeff. But she can go through it all because Colby is here. She doesn't know how he manages to make the simplest of moments feel special and romantic even without flowers or chocolates. Like now as they sway and twirl in slow, careful steps around the small room, her arms around his neck and both of his hands on her waist in what is the perfect, fluid dance on her birthday and perhaps the perfect birthday gift.

And as he spins her around, his hand in hers and the way he's looking at her, as if she's the only thing that matters and will ever matter in his world, she realizes that love should feel like the way her body tingle when he's near. Love should taste like his lips as she kisses him over and over with everything she has, everything she has to offer him. Love should make you want more, like the need she feels right now to give him more than just kisses and caresses, to be able to speak instead of panting and smiling once they finally pull away from the kiss, their ragged breaths mingling, making her feel hot and sweaty despite the air-conditioning in the room. She has love again. She has tasted it and she pray she won't lose it anytime soon.

As the delicious haze clears from her mind, she can now detect the soft, yet boring music in the air trickling inside her bedroom. Her head jerks upright, her ears perking up at the sound of violin playing and the loud chatter of the guests. She shuts her eyes and grunts in dismay. 'The party has started sooner than planned. So much for the hour and half Ashley claimed she has,' she berates, reluctantly letting her arms slacken around his neck to her sides, a somber look on her face. "I have to go."

She smiles a little at the adorable pout on his face. Clearly he doesn't want to let go of her anytime soon judging by his hands tightening around her waist. "What happened to an hour and a half," he asks, his hot breath dancing at the crook of her neck as his head dips down to kiss her collarbone.

Rebecca wriggles and moans from his torturous kisses and the naughty things he's whispering into her ear. Sadly, she can't stay long enough to indulge in any of what he's seductively suggesting. "Later, Colby. Right now, I have to go. When the music starts playing, it means the party has begun. Ashley will be coming any moment from now to get me." Almost simultaneously, a knock rings on her bedroom door. By how insistent and loud the knocks are, Rebecca notes it isn't her friend behind the door long before her mother's voice rang through. Once her mother shouts for her to open the door though, following it up with a series of; 'are you okay in there, Rebecca,' she flies into a state of panic, quickly searching her mind for a spot Colby can hide.

Her mind immediately pinpoints to her bathroom because it's much nearer, safer and with how insistent her mother's shouts are getting, Rebecca knows there's no time to waste savoring the petrified expression on Colby's face. Despite all odds, she understands his reaction. She herself isn't looking forward to introducing Colby to her mother in the future although it's inevitable. Taking his hand, she drags him to her bathroom, shushing his protests along the way. "Stay here and don't come out," she warns him. "My mother can't see you in my room. She'll kill me."

"You're a very bad girl, Rebecca." He teasingly says, grabbing her wrist before she can dash out of his sight. Rebecca grunts under her breath and struggles to pull her hand out of his tight grasp but it's futile. As futile at her attempt not to blush furiously when he brushes a strand of curly hair from her face, softly purring. "Don't let me miss you too much."

"I can't make promises, Colby. I don't know when I'm going to finish with this party. Now let go of me. My mother is at the door."

A sly smile forms on his face, every bit defiant despite her pleas. He definitely wants her to get into trouble tonight. And she can't say she's angry. "How are you going to explain the smudged lipstick around your lips though?"

She fights the desire to wipe the amused smirk off his face-by whatever means possible-and scowls at him, "That's my problem. Not yours. Now let go of me." After a few shoves and gentle coaxes-which involves promises she can't see herself fulfilling tonight but she has to make anyway-he finally lets go of her. "After my mother is gone, take the back door at the painting room and leave." She flashes him one last sizzling scowl and a smile before darting out of the bathroom to her bedroom, almost tripping over the rug in her haste to get to the door before her mother yells for Fergal to break it down. Her mother looks every bit irate and frustrated as she envisioned her to be but nothing matches the horrified look on her face after she takes in her smudged lipstick and the barely visible wrinkles at the front of her gown-which without much surprise, her mother manages to make out. Behind Annette, Ashley weakly waves at Rebecca, mouthing a silent apology for failing to keep her mother out of her room as she promised she would. Rebecca rolls her eyes at her friend's remorseful facade, knowing Ashley is secretly enjoying her predicament.

"How come you aren't ready yet? And where are the stylists?" Annette reels around to face Ashley, "You told me they're here helping Rebecca get ready."

"They were," Rebecca replies in her friend's place, bothered by the thought of Ashley getting scolded. "I sent them away once they'd finished helping me into the gown. I reasoned the rest isn't much of a tedious work for me to handle on my own."

Annette motions to her state, "Clearly 'the rest' is too much work for you. Just look at the smudged lipstick around her mouth and the wrinkles on your gown. For peace's sake, what were you doing? What have both of you been up to?"

"Nothing!" Rebecca and Ashley exclaim in unison. Annette's suspicious gaze bounces between the two of them before she eventually gives up trying to solve a puzzle she has no idea of, walking Rebecca to her dressing table and seating her in the chair. Rebecca glances at her bathroom out of the corner of her eye as her mother fishes out a tissue from the tissue box, relief washing over her when she doesn't spot even a silhouette of Colby on the wall. Rebecca's eyes meet that of her friend's through the mirror, nodding in confirmation when Ashley points to the bathroom, sensing the nervousness in her friend. Instead of calming her fears as one would expect of a 'good friend', Ashley turns her head to the side with a hand over her mouth to conceal her laugh. Rebecca just shakes her head, smiling herself. She feels like a teenager all over again with taking Colby around the back of the mansion to her bedroom instead of the stairs and now hiding him from her mother in her bathroom. To think it isn't something she even risked doing in her teenage days. Love indeed makes one do crazy things!

"All the guests have arrived. All of them are waiting for you downstairs and instead of you to be concentrating on what's going to happen tonight, God only knows what you have been doing." Rebecca catches exasperation and a tiny hint of disappointment clouded in her mother's voice as she wipes the lipstick from her lips with the tissue, her eyes staring intently at her face through the mirror. Rebecca is thankful Colby hadn't left any hickeys on her neck.

"I'm sorry, mom." If anything, she should be the one annoyed at her family forcing her to have a party against her wishes. She should be the one angry but as always, her family finds a way for her to feel guilty. It's sheer luck her mother's scoldings are a bit tamer, unlike Fergal's.

"Leon's death anniversary is coming up in two day's time," Annette abruptly announces, her voice emotionless. Rebecca immediately takes a ragged breath into her lungs, holding it in, afraid to let it out, let it go. Just like her father's memories. "We are not going to hold anything for him this year. Your father deserves to have his rest."

Rebecca can only stare at her mother's expressionless face as she bends down in her lovely, pink dress to apply the red lip gloss to her lips. "But we're still going to visit his grave, right?" Normally, they'll hold a vigil on the night before he died at the church and visit his grave with flowers the next morning. But according to her mother, things will be different this year for reasons being that perhaps, her family have grown exhausted with the tradition. It was bound to happen sooner or later.

"Of course," Annette confirms as she straightens, setting the lip gloss down to pick up the box of silver necklace. While her mother places the necklace around her neck, a golden watch coming around her right wrist next, Rebecca smacks her lips together for full effect. "But it will be a simple ceremony; if I can even call it that. We'll visit his grave, place flowers on it like we do every year and come back home for some nice dinner together-your father's favorite dishes, of course-then we'll watch a movie and some old family videos."

'Watching a movie and old family videos together,' Rebecca chuckles as she holds back a sob. They haven't done that since Fergal moved out of the mansion and that's like five years ago. Although he visits the mansion every year for a family dinner on their father's death anniversary, he hardly stays long enough to eat desserts and prefers heading back to his cold condo. And as much as her mother has always tried to convince Fergal to stay longer to watch a movie, it's always useless. Fergal is industrious and above all, independent. He owns nothing to anyone, not even to his family. Even though Rebecca dreads it every time he flaunts it at her face, she has always admired her brother and everything he has achieved in his life. She wish she can have that freedom, courage and will to be solely dependent on herself and not on others.

Her mother's voice brings her back to the present. "Things will be the same as before. The only difference is we won't hold a vigil at the church tomorrow for him." Glancing at Ashley who was busy craning her to peek inside the bathroom, Annette adds, "You have to be there too, my dear Ash."

The humour disappears from Ashley's face. She begins to object vehemently. "Aunt Ann, I don't think I should tag along. It's a family thing and I'm not exactly. . . ."

Annette smiles brightly at her, "You're family, my dear Ash. You've become like a daughter to me and I'll appreciate it very much if you stop acting like an outsider. There's no reason you should shoulder the blame for your father's mistakes."

Rebecca fiercely silences any further protests from her friend through the mirror. Ashley nods but Rebecca can see her friend isn't entirely convinced by her mother's words nor hers. It's in times like this that Rebecca fully comprehends the amount of pain and burden her friend carries. "Thank you, aunt Ann," Ashley's voice is dull. Too dull. Her mother shouldn't have brought up the subject of Ashley's father. It just ruins her friend's mood.

"You're welcome for nothing, my dear Ash." Once she's satisfied with the little makeover she's giving her daughter, Annette gently nudges Rebecca to stand up and face her. "Remember," she grips her by the arms, nails not quite digging into her flesh and smiles. For once she looks like a mother. A concerned one at that. Rebecca wonders what her mother is really fretting about. Her and her feelings towards this party or that she'll end up saying something which isn't exactly suitable for the media's ears. If it's the latter, then her mother has everything to worry about. For Rebecca has forgotten the scripted words Ashley wrote for her to memorize and say tonight. She can't even recall the first paragraph much less the conclusion. All she has left now is her mind filled with the thousand things she wants to vent out to the cameras. And she's going to say them. As Colby encouraged her to. "Square your shoulders," Annette instructs, "chin up, look straight and. . . ."

"Smile for the cameras," Rebecca finishes for her mother, nodding. "I get it, mom."

Annette looks grateful, "This will pass much sooner than you least expect. You've always been great and comfortable around the cameras from a young age so I know you can handle it, Rebecca." It's the only vote of confidence her mother is capable of bestowing on her. "Come on."

As she follows her mother's lead out of her room with Ashley following close behind her, Rebecca is able to glance back-past Ashley-to see Colby standing in a perilous spot at the doorway. His thumbs up and the sexy wink he gives her, fuels her next steps out of the room and into the blinding lights of the hall, amongst people she doesn't remember and some she doesn't know, in front of the cameras she dreaded facing but not anymore. She smiles for the cameras, for the guests as the moment requires of her. But little do they know, the smile isn't for them.

* * *
The decent enough taxi-for Pamela, not for her-pulls up at the left side of the vacant street from where the Quinn's mansion is, because the other side, is entirely occupied with posh cars which has Mercedes silently cursing under breath. She had to decline Fergal's offer to have one of his chauffeurs pick her up at the house because of Pamela. She didn't want her friend growing more suspicious than she already is of her. So now she's forced to endure the weird stares of a couple-who are as late for the party as she is-getting out of their car as if they haven't seen a person riding in a taxi before. Probably not. Perhaps, they have never been at a bus station either. The status they hold in the society is too prestigious for them to even think of riding a subway or in this case, attend the birthday party of the daughter of the richest family in California by a taxi. The thought of it causes Mercedes to release a string of profanity in her head as Pamela pays the taxi driver before coming to stand beside her friend, oblivious to Mercedes's brooding mood.

"I can't believe I'm here." Pamela admits with mild surprise in her voice, tugging a strand of short, black hair that had escaped onto her cheek from the cool breeze of the night behind her ear. She won't admit it but Mercedes knows her friend is as mesmerized by the magnificent mansion as she is.

Once she's sure Pamela is too engrossed in admiring the mansion and fidgeting with her green dress which is cut not low enough at the neckline to expose much of her cleavage, Mercedes mutters inaudibly so her friend won't hear her in the otherwise quiet street. "I can't believe it either." In all honesty, she really can't. She'd to pull every trick in her books to have Pamela accompany her to the party. She didn't fathom what occurred this morning with Colby could be a stepping stone in accomplishing her plans for tonight. Colby had certainly helped in making her desperate, helpless act all the more convincing to Pamela. Her friend will never pass up the opportunity to help her fix things with Colby or aid her in solving 'the hot mess' her friend assumes she has gotten herself into with Fergal.

If by convincing her friend to come along tonight and having her none the wiser about her relationship with a man she'd lied she'd severed all ties with a week ago, means Fergal and Pamela might heatedly clash tonight when they get acquainted with each other, then it's worth it. Not that she's going to let that happen though. She's going to be there when they meet to prevent any confrontation from ensuing between them. Tonight will definitely be a test of her self-proclaimed cunning mind. She just hopes situations don't slip out of her control.

Using a hand to hike up the red gown she's wearing along with the diamond necklace Fergal had gifted her-Pamela had let it slide-and clutching her black purse with the other, Mercedes beckons her friend to proceed to the other side of the street to the mansion. Before she can take a step, Pamela halts her, posture hesitant as she fights for the right words. "You have to end this tonight. You've to tell Fergal once and for all that you have a boyfriend and that whatever he hopes with you will never amount to anything."

Mercedes never wants to think such things about her dear friend but when Pamela starts getting into 'a speech mode' about Fergal and her relationships, she can't help but think of her friend as naive. . . . and stupid. 'If only she knew. . . .' "Pam, I have ended things with Fergal."

Pamela is dubious. 'Not so naive then.' "Oh really? Then why are we here? If you've really ended things with him and he has no sort of hope that he can work things out between the both of you, then why won't he understand if you'd told him you can't attend this party?"

Mercedes turns a beseeching look at her friend, "Fergal would've fired me from the Sports Club if I had declined his offer to attend this party. I've no idea how he gets when he's angry but I have a feeling it isn't anything good."

"How do you know that?" Pamela retorts. Under different circumstances, Mercedes would laugh at her friend defending Fergal. But she knows she can't take Pamela's behaviour now as her being defensive. Her friend is doubting her. "I know he's arrogant, materialistic and self centered. But love is love. When someone loves you, they wish for your happiness even if it means them losing theirs. Why won't Fergal understand if you aren't happy with the idea of attending his sister's party? He loves you. 'He is a good person behind his cold persona', you told me so yourself, remember? So why won't he understand?"

Mercedes tries to appear every bit offended. "If you have so many uncertainties about everything I told you, then why are you here with me, Pam? Don't you see I can't have you, above all people, questioning me of things I can't explain right now?"

"I'm not doubting you; if that's what you're implying by me questioning you. I'm just. . . .," she throws her hands up in dejection, "I don't want to be here, Mercedes. I don't want you to be in this situation. I hate seeing you in problems. I wish I can help you fix things but I don't know how to. The only thing I can do is accompany you to this party just as you requested of me. But I feel it isn't enough. I should do more but I don't know what else I can do. I feel like I'm a bad friend, Mercedes."

Mercedes is a bit touched. She always is whenever Pamela talks like this but she doesn't welcome guilt or remorse. She has come too far for that. She can't appear weak now. "That's all I need you to do for me, Pam. Just be by my side throughout this party. I'm trying to get on Fergal's good side. I know he wants me back but I can't straight out tell him now that he should stay away from me. He'll take it the wrong way and end up doing something drastic. I can't afford to lose my job or have Colby know I was once with Fergal. He'd leave me for good."

Pamela is sympathetic. "Today, you have to attend his sister's birthday party. Tomorrow, he'll ask you to meet him at a hotel. If it keeps going like this, then things will escalate and you'll have no other choice but to reject him at his face. Then you'll indeed lose your job, Mercedes. Not just your job but Colby as well. Let me talk to Fergal. I'm sure he'll understand your situation better from another person's perspective than from the woman who broke up with him. He can't be that shallow and selfish as to not understand the needs of the woman he claims he loves."

Mercedes quickly objects, "No, Pam. You really don't have to. I'll solve this, don't worry. Just be by my side tonight. Having you here will definitely make things less awkward and uncomfortable for me. I feel much better knowing I have you here."

Pamela clasps her hands and squeezes, offering her a reassuring smile. "I'll always be here for you, Mercedes. Never forget that." After Mercedes nods, Pamela wounds an arm around her waist and leads her across the street to the big gates of the mansion. "We won't stay for long. You just have to let Fergal see you came as you said you will. If he tries anything funny," she leans down to whisper in her ear, "I have your back."

"Thanks Pam. You truly are the best." Mercedes tells her friend in genuine gratitude as the guards allow them through the gates. Her stomach is dancing with butterflies, as though she's about to meet her lost love when she steps inside the mansion, into extravagance in every sense of detail at the party. And her dream world.

A world where this mansion is hers. A world where this party is being thrown for her and not Rebecca. A world where she's the prime focus of the cameras instead of Annette Quinn who is busy faking smiles for everything it's worth while she guides her daughter cautiously down the stairs as the cameras snap pictures. Rebecca looks radiant and beautiful in a gown which is definitely ten times expensive than what she's wearing and if it weren't for the fact that she's capturing the attention of every guest in attendance-with what she deems is 'an entry befitting for a princess with the flashy lights and the cameras surrounding her'-Mercedes wouldn't have recognized Rebecca among the guests devoid of her bright, orange hair if she'd arrived a minute later, depriving herself of this spectacle. But she doesn't waste time staring at the birthday girl and Annette Quinn for long. She scrutinizes the guests gathered for a sign of Fergal and she spots him, standing beside the staircase, near his mother and sister with glass of champagne in hand, gaze as cool and calculated as ever even if it's looking at his own family. A charade indeed. She has no doubt there's more to this family than what they portray in front of the cameras. And she's going to unravel all of them. One step at a time.

"I should've brought a gift now that I think about it," Pamela says into her friend's ear uneasily. Mercedes can't decipher if her uneasiness is about finally meeting Fergal in person or just Pamela being Pamela. "You brought a gift for Rebecca though, didn't you?"

Mercedes grins to herself, toes curling at the present she went through hell to gift to Rebecca. Might as well do well to please Fergal's sister. "Of course, I did. I don't think it's necessary for you to get a gift for her. You were unprepared when I asked you to accompany me to the party so don't worry about it."

"Well, that's true but I should've at least brought something for his sister. It's unethical when one attends a birthday party without a gift. She looks beautiful, doesn't she?" Mercedes nods stiffly. "She appears nice. Very warm," then Pamela's eyes travel to where Fergal is standing, "the opposite of her brother."

Mercedes rolls her eyes at Pamela showering praises on Rebecca. For some reason, she's irritated by the sight of Rebecca in all this elegance. A type of mixed feeling she can't put her finger on. It's everything at once. Though she has every right to be feeling this way, she shouldn't feel like this about a person she doesn't even know personally. A person who doesn't matter except for one single thing. "This is all a farce."

"What did you say?" Pamela had heard her.

"Nothing," Mercedes lies, smiling brightly. "Why don't we move to that side?" Mercedes offers, pointing to the spot where a group of young girls are standing beside a table of desserts, a sizable distance from where Fergal is standing. She gives her time to contemplate and ponder for a waiter carrying a tray of glasses of champagne to draw closer before taking Pamela's hand and pulling her along. Effortlessly, her hand slips away from her friend's grasp to take a lead at the front and carefully, swiftly bump and topple the tray of drinks onto Pamela's dress. The tray tumbles to the ground with a loud splinter sound, gaining the attention of a few guests in reach. The loud melody of the violin playing and the shutter sounds of cameras snapping pictures fortunately drowns the sound from reaching any further. "Pam, are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just a stain on the dress," Pamela bemoans, brushing away the waiter's repetitive apologies as she tries wiping the liquid stain from her dress. The stain stretches a dark, dirty taint in spite of all her fiery attempts. "This needs to get washed." She gazes up at her friend pleadingly, "Or we could get out of here, Mercedes. Let's leave."

Mercedes forces herself not to give another eye roll. "Pam, we can't back out now. Let the waiter take you to one of the washrooms so you can wash the stain from the dress. It will be fine."

"But what about you, Mercedes?"

She often appreciates her friend's concern but this is getting too much. "I'll be fine, Pam," she nearly says through clenched teeth. "Just go and wash that off of your dress. Don't worry about me. Go with the waiter. He'll show you to a washroom." She practically shove Pamela away, sighing in relief once her friend leaves with the waiter. Dabbing the sweat on her forehead with her palm and pulling in a deep breath, she pushes through the crowd to Fergal, tapping on his shoulder. "Good evening."

Fergal's smile blossoms upon seeing her. "Hey. You look stunning," he seals the compliment with a quick kiss to her lips, taking a glass of champagne from a waiter and handing it to her. "Where is your friend?"

Mercedes flinches a bit at the question. "First, thanks for the compliment. As for my friend, she's somewhere. I don't really know. She doesn't like these parties so she may have gone outside for some fresh air."

Fergal's brow quirks, "But you just arrived, right?"

"Yes," she replies, "and I was just about to introduce her to you but then she said she wanted to attend to a call or something. Being a doctor is no easy task but I know she really wants some fresh air. She'll be back soon and then I'll introduce you to her, don't worry, Fergal."

"What is she wearing? Tell me so that if I see her around somewhere and you aren't around, I'll know it's her." Fergal presses.

Now Mercedes is getting annoyed. She's standing in front of her boyfriend, all decked up and all he's asking and seemingly thinking about is her friend who he doesn't even know. Or does he? "She's wearing a green dress. She has short, black hair," she immediately regrets giving Fergal this valuable information. What if he comes across Pamela and she isn't there? You're so stupid, Mercedes. "All this isn't relevant, Fergal. If she doesn't come back to the party in five minute's time, I'll head outside to look for her myself."

Fergal relents, "It's alright," his eyes still wanders around. "She's right here so let her have all the time to herself. After Rebecca addresses the guests, then you can introduce her to me. For now, let me introduce you to my mother and sister."

Mercedes is only happy to agree, giddiness firing her every step towards Annette Quinn. 'Her role model,' looks more gorgeous and strikingly intimidating-when she wants to be-in person than in pictures and interviews and as she comes to stand before them, the cameras catching a glimpse of her as she deserves, she has an intuition this is only the beginning of her good fortunes.