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“Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew for a minute there,” I said with a bright smile, forcing my attention back onto the battle at hand. And at least this was a battle that I knew could be won. “I think you’ll find I know my mathematics quite well. In fact, if we look at sales figures for liquor companies for the past three decades—”
I very determinedly kept my eyes on the board member, and not on the rest of the party, as I resumed my attack on the Douchebros’ allegations. I very determinedly resisted scanning the crowd, or listening for the sound of familiar footsteps.
I may have lost a lot of things recently, but I was not going to lose this man’s vote.
#
“Ah, Ally, there you are! We’ve been looking all over for you!”
Damn, damn, and triple damn. After all my efforts to avoid them all evening, ducking and dodging and as**siduously avoiding eye contact so that we ended up on opposite sides of the room, my sister and her boyfriend/my hook-up/my client had still managed to track me down like a pair of socially awkward bloodhounds.
Dammit, if only I didn’t have to stump so hard for Hunter and my plan tonight. I could have hidden in the kitchen, drowning my sorrows in champagne and savory canapés.
I gave what I hoped was a convincing imitation of a smile. “Ah, hey guys. How’s it going?”
Hunter made some noises that were probably words saying that it was going great, or poorly, or that everything had exploded. I couldn’t tell, because my eyes were too busy watching the way his arm curled possessively around Paige’s waist, pulling her as close as physically possible, the way Paige was leaning into him, two puzzle pieces fitting perfectly…
“—and that’s basically the long and the short of it,” he finished.
“Oh,” I said. “That’s interesting.”
Paige’s face was concerned. “Are you all right, Ally? You’ve been on your feet for hours now, are you sure you’re not getting tired? You look a bit pale.”
“I’m fine!” I said, tossing off a laugh to prove just how fine I was. “Just need to refuel.”
I snagged a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and tossed it back, barely tasting the cloying, bubbly sweetness I usually hated.
Hunter snagged a couple of glasses as well, and offered one of them to Paige.
She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m not a fan. The bubbles go right up my nose.”
Hunter gave her a dazed little grin and bopped her on the nose with his finger. “That is just too adorable.”
Paige giggled.
Meanwhile, I felt like I might explode. Did I say might? Would. Definitely would. Explosion imminent, self-destructing countdown commencing, and I was powerless to stop it.
“Well,” Hunter said, still wearing that stupid love-struck smile, “let’s go find something that won’t bubble up that little button nose of yours. I think I saw a nice Merlot earlier…”
“My favorite!” Paige said happily. She turned to me. “Ally, I wouldn’t abandon you but I know you’ll do your work so much better without us around to chat with you. We’ll catch you later, and try not to work too hard, okay? Have a little fun!”
“Sure, sure,” I said, waving them off. The second they were out of sight, I grabbed another champagne from a passing waiter who looked so fancy that anywhere else he’d have people waiting on him like royalty.
I was still seething and unbalanced, but I forced myself to sip this glass a little more slowly. I had to be smart about this. I couldn’t get drunk tonight. So I had to make this one last. See, I was feeling calmer and more in control already.
I’d just sip this champagne until I felt like I could head back out into the fray, and then—
“Was that Hunter Knox?”
The cultured voice, vowels sliding from Virginia nobility straight into British aristocracy, was so close that for a second I thought the woman was speaking to me, but then I realized that I was close enough to a circle of wealthy society women to overhear their conversation. Maybe there would be an in for me to chat up the company?
I turned my back to them while subtly edging closer, pretending to be interested solely in the contents of my glass and the handsome oil painting to my right.
“Indeed it is,” another voice, sounding equally made of money, responded. A mischievous tone crept in. “And isn’t he looking handsome! Why, if I were forty years younger…”
This was met with a series of polite chuckles and murmurs. “Oh, behave yourself, Ethel!”
There was a sigh, presumably from Ethel. “Well, if I had to lose out to the younger generation, at least it’s to a nice young girl like that. Who’s her family?”
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