But now, every time I looked at her, I wanted to ruin her lipstick and offer her the world at the same time. Which terrified me because I don’t usually do this.
A calendar notification pinged on my screen, another meeting. I minimized it and opened my email. There was an invitation to a Gala that Hayes apparently hosts every year. And now it was part of my job. So, I did the best thing I could. I invited the only two people I know will be there, with no excuses.
I opened my messages and sent Nico a text.
Me: So, there’s a work gala. Wanna come?
I’ll need the support.
Nico: I’m honored to be your plus one.
Should I wear a tiara?
Me: I don’t think that would be appropriate, but whatever you see fit.
Nico: jk, of course, I’ll be there.
Can’t wait to meet your new coworkers.
Are they all as fun as your office “strategist”?
Me:
I rolled my eyes, then tapped through to my contacts and hit the dial button on one I hadn’t used in a few weeks. “Hey stranger,” Elena answered, her soft voice lilting with curiosity. “El, I need a favor, which is in your email.”
“Already saw it, black tie, charity, soulless billionaires, and tiny hors d’oeuvres?”
“That’s a way to put it, yes.” She laughed. “Of course I’ll come. Do you want emotional support or someone to mock the 1% with you?”
“Can it be both, please?”
“Done. I’ll fly in tomorrow, but pay for my ticket, yes?” I laugh. “My treat.” I hung up and stared at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how this was my life now.
I’m the CEO of one of the largest companies in the country, and I’m out here dodging HR landmines. For fucks sakes, I just invited my flirty best friend and my artistic baby sister to the Hayes Gala, just because I need emotional support.
Support to deal with the man who owns this place, which also happens to be the father of the woman that’s been driving me crazy.
My life is a shit-show.
The conference room was all glass and steel and sharp angles, just like the conversation that unfolded inside it. Max sat at the head of the table, flanked by Naomi and Cameron. Sam was on the opposite side from me, thank God. But it did nothing to help my concentration.
“We’ve confirmed the venue,” Cameron said, flipping through his tablet with the crisp efficiency of someone who didn’t miss details or power plays. “The invite list includes our major partners, press, political donors, and some longstanding Hayes family supporters. No surprises.”
“Are we doing speeches?” Naomi asked, already sounding tired.
“One from Max, one from Theo,” Cameron replied. “Brief. Five minutes each. We’ll prepare a teleprompter just in case.” Max nodded. “I want the tone to be hopeful. This is the passing of a torch, not a funeral.” Sam stiffened a little beside Naomi, her face unreadable except for the slight clench in her jaw. “And press access?” I asked, mostly to keep my eyesoff Sam’s lips.
“Limited,” Harper answered from the far end of the table, typing as she spoke. “A ten-minute photo op at the entrance, then only one crew inside to cover the speeches. We’ve vetted them.” Max turned to me. “Are you good with that?”
“Of course,” I said smoothly. “I’ll keep it polished.” And polite. And professional. Even if one of the attendees knew what I sounded like, fucking and whispering her name against a desk. Sam glanced up at that moment, almost like she could hear the thought.
Our eyes met, Naomi leaned over to whisper something to her, and Sam nodded quickly, breaking eye contact. I could still feel it like static under my skin. Cameron ran through logistics, menu options, seating charts, and security.
Harper chimed in with a rundown of the show, every transition timed to the second. She’d already color-coded the schedule, of course. Sam asked two smart questions and made an offhand comment that had the table laughing, and I hated how much I wanted to touch the side of her neck again, just to see if her skin flushed like it did when I had her pinned to the glass.
The meeting wrapped up with Max standing. “This isn’t just a gala, it’s a statement. We’re not just changing faces. We’re building the future. Thank you all.” Chairs scraped. Laptops closed. Polite murmurs filled the room.
Harper gave me a pointed glance on the way out, her look saying, ‘keep it zipped, figuratively and literally’. As the room emptied, Sam walked past me without a word, but her perfume lingered in the space between us.
