“Stop,” I whispered through my teeth, laughing. “You’re not helping.” She linked her arm through mine. “I’m always helping.” We sipped our champagne and scanned the room. “Let’s make some power moves,” Rose said, eyes sparkling. “And pretend I run this place.” I took one more sip and lifted my chin. “Who says you don’t?”
We were mid-way through politely sipping champagne and dodging small talk when Rose stiffened beside me. “Don’t look now,” she said, gripping my arm like a scandalized Victorian woman. “But your sexy fuck buddy boss man just walked in.” Naturally, I looked immediately.
There he was, Theodore Jones, storm cloud in a tux. The man wore formality like a second skin: clean lines, crisp posture, the quiet authority of someone who didn’t need to speak to command a room. But it wasn’t just him who made my stomach do that traitorous flutter. He was with three other people, two of whom I didn’t recognize.
Rose let out a low whistle. “Who is that with him?”
“That’s Harper,” I said, nodding toward the woman on his left. “His assistant. She basically keeps his world spinning. And probably tells him when to eat, go to the bathroom, and all of that.” Rose tilted her head. “She looks like she eats billionaires for breakfast.”
“Oh, she does,” I murmured. “And him?” she asked, eyes landing on the man beside Theo, the one with tousled brown curls, designer stubble, and the kind of cocky smile that said, I flirt with grandmothers and win. He wore a deep green velvet jacket over a black shirt, no tie, like he got the gala memo and said I’ll do you one better. “I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I mean, I’ve heard Theo talk about his best friend, but we’ve never met. Maybe that’s him.”
“Well, if that’s the best friend,” she whispered, “then I need to make some bad decisions tonight.”
“And the girl with them? She is absolutely stunning.” Younger, with big, curious eyes, messy curls, and a floaty dress that made her look like she’d wandered in from an art gallery. She stuck close to Theo’s side, but not in a romantic way, I think. She looks protective of him, almost. “No clue,” I said.
“She looks like his sister,” Rose said, squinting. “They have the same eyes and same cheekbones.” I nodded. “True. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Are you nervous?” Rose asked. I took a long sip of my champagne and smiled through it. “Only abouteverything.” She grinned. “You’ll be fine. You look devastating. That’s all that matters.”
Theo made his way across the ballroom like he owned the damn floor, which, technically, he kind of did tonight. He greeted donors, smiled for photos, and shook hands with a curated balance of power and charm.
When he finally reached us, I was mid-laugh at something Rose had whispered, and his eyes landed on me like he’d been holding his breath since the moment I walked in.
He smiled, lingering a little too long. “Samantha.”
“Mr. Jones,” I said, like it was a toast and a warning. “Allow me to introduce a few people,” he said. “This is Nico.” Nico gave a lopsided grin and tipped an imaginary hat. “Pleasure. I’ve been told I’m the fun one.”
“By whom?” Elena murmured with a teasing smile. “Because that sounds made up.” Theo cleared his throat, a little amused, a little exasperated. “And this is my little sister, Elena.”
“Hi,” Elena said warmly, extending her hand to me. “You’re the legendary Samantha.”
“Oh god,” I muttered, shaking it. “What did he say?”
“Only good things,” she promised, her voice playful. “And maybe one thing about desks.” My cheeks flushed as Rose choked on her champagne. “This is Rose, my best friend.” I offered quickly, trying tochange the subject. “We are here for the gala and some sibling time.”
“Sibling time,” Nico echoed, smirking at Elena. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”
“Better than ‘gossip hour and trauma unpacking,’” Elena replied. Everyone chuckled, the tension easing. Theo stayed long enough to offer pleasantries, then Harper appeared at his side, whispering something with that no-nonsense tone that only assistants and older sisters could perfect.
“I’ll be back,” he told us, giving me one last glance before following Harper into the crowd. “Is it always like this?” Elena asked me once he disappeared. “What, the tux, the charm, the slow smolder?” I said.
“No,” she laughed. “The tension.”
“Oh,” I said, faking innocence. “That? That’s just unresolved power dynamics and sexual history in formalwear.” She cackled, clinking her glass to mine. “I like you already.”
We started chatting, falling into an easy rhythm. Turns out Elena was an artist—illustration and mixed media—who’d spent the last few years bouncing between Lisbon, Florence, and Copenhagen. Her vibe was chaotic-neutral with a soul-deep kindness I hadn’t expected. Meanwhile, Rose and Nico were in their own orbit. Flirting.
Full-on, no-subtlety, laughing way too loud, eyes sparkling, lean-in flirting. I watched them for amoment, smirking. “They’re going to hook up,” I whispered to Elena.
“Oh, 100 percent,” she whispered back. “He’s already picked out his best boxers.” I nearly spit out my drink. I could see how she was Theo’s sister, clever, quick, and quietly disarming. But unlike Theo, she didn’t carry that edge of calculation. She was open, breezy. If he was the storm, she was the sea. The clink of glasses and soft hush of the crowd around us signaled a shift in the room.
“Looks like the gala’s officially starting,” Elena said, checking the time on her phone. “I should go mingle with my family,” I said, straightening the fabric of my dress and reaching for my clutch. “Keep Rose safe from your best friend.”
“No promises,” Elena grinned. “She looks like she bites.”
“She does,” I said, winking. “But only if he asks nicely.” We both laughed as I stepped away from our corner of comfort and glided into the storm.
The moment I reached the main cluster—Max, Naomi, Cameron, and Theo—I could feel the air change. It was thicker, heavier. Like all the unspoken things between Theo and me had walked in with me.
