On the Avenue Read Free Page B

looked down, making certain she hadn't spilled any food on her gown. It was vintage Chanel. A simple black lace strapless that fell to her ankles and hugged her waist snugly. At her neck, a Harry Winston ten-carat choker sparkled like the Manhattan skyline. Her dark hair was pulled up in a chignon. She knew all eyes had been on her since the gala had started an hour ago, and she didn't mind the attention one bit. Here, among her intellectual peers, she was being admired for more than just her beauty. Madison had spent the past two months interning in the Met's fund-raising and development office, coordinating many of tonight's decorative festivities on her own. It was no secret that she had the brains to match the influential last name.
    Madison yawned just as a photographer approached, his camera ready. She quickly clamped down on her teeth, smiled, and lifted her chin slightly, all too aware that this very picture would appear in the Style section of the
New York Times
on Sunday. As the lens flashed brightly, she prayed for a flattering shot—even though an unflattering shot was rare.
    Of the Hamilton triplets, Madison looked most like their mother. Venturina Baci, famed actress of stage and screen, had been a top model in her teens and early twenties. A lean, leggy Italian with wild dark hair and the face of an angel, Venturina made her theatrical debut in London's West End; a year later, while shooting her first movie in New York, she spent a single night partying at a trendy nightclub and fell in love. Venturina was twenty-six. Trevor Hamilton was thirty-two. Their romance had been chronicled in all the major tabloids of the day: the rising star and the ambitious, handsome entrepreneur. They married a few months later and Venturina became pregnant with triplets. But the marriage didn't last. When Madison, Park, and Lex were all of three, Venturina moved back to Italy to jump-start her European film career. And Trevor, already a billionaire, wouldn't hear of his famous girls leaving New York, the city that adored them.
    There was never a time when Madison resented being compared to her mother. Venturina Baci was beautiful and accomplished, a European treasure. Her movies were not of the blockbuster variety, but works of cinematic art. All the high-profile directors loved her: Almodóvar, Jeunet, Zhang. Over the years, Madison, Park, and Lex had traveled to the Cannes and Venice film festivals to cheer Venturina on. They shared a special relationship with their mother, abond that transcended the four thousand miles separating them. Venturina wasn't around to share in all the small, meaningful moments of their lives— shopping on Fifth, vacationing in the Hamptons— but she was always there when her girls needed her.
    Madison dropped her pose as the photographer nodded gratefully. Then she turned around and caught sight of her best friend, Coco McKaid, sifting through the crowd.
    Coco was small and impish, with pixie-cut black hair and big brown eyes. She always looked as though she was in the middle of an emergency. Like Madison and her sisters, Coco was a sophomore at St. Cecilia's Prep. Her parents owned the Bristol Winery in Napa Valley, California—which was exactly why Coco hated wine and drank only vodka. She came to Madison's side and said, “Can you believe it?”
    “Believe what?”
    “You mean you haven't seen him yet?”
    Madison frowned. “Jeremy Bleu? We all saw him twenty minutes ago. He made the opening remarks. He's gorgeous.” As she spoke the words, a dreamy picture of Jeremy flashed in front of her eyes. Hollywood's current golden boy, Jeremy was one of the biggest celebrities in attendance tonight. His upcoming movie,
Knight,
had something to do with swords, shields, and the weapons of those violent medieval days. The flick would probably suck and goon to make a few hundred million at the box office. But it didn't matter what Jeremy Bleu said or did. His looks were downright phenomenal. You