I’d pleaded with her to remain by my side. Not for the so-called optics. But for my damn sanity. She still wandered off. Trying different areas of the catering—clearly looking for some booze.
I press a hand to my chest and turn to this random person we’re talking to. “I’m—uh—sorry. Can you repeat that?”
The man startles slightly, composing himself just as quickly. “Oh, nothing. You just mentioned your fiancée’s financial expertise, Levi. Is she inattendance?”
She is, and she isn’t.
I clear my throat. Awkwardly trying to remember his name. He just called meLevi, which probably means I must have given him the leeway to address me that way. Unfortunately, it also means that I can’t reciprocate.
I’m so off my game, my attention firmly on my lone woman aimlessly floating about the hall, that I can’t seem to hold an actual professional conversation right now.
Fuck.
“Ah, yes,” I say, pasting a polite smile for the nameless man. “She’s… here. But I guess I lost her at the tenth—maybe eleventh—conversation about numbers. Totally her thing.” I’m aiming for jovial, yet formal niceties. But it lands bordering on lame. I can’t even blame the man for giving me a confused frown.
He chuckles awkwardly. “I get that. My wife is somewhere around here, probably giving someone a crash course on Google Analytics.”
He looks around, and in an instant, a beaming grin forms on his face. His eyes locked on a woman walking toward us.
“There you are.” She smiles up at him.
“You keep running away,” he says softly, eyes gleaming with something I’ve only ever witnessed on Cece.
It’s not just love. It’s that irrevocably unshaken trust that they share that’s shining in his eyes.
I would give anything for Cece to look at me like that again.
“Mr. Astor,” he says, pulling me out of my despairing mood. “This is my wife, Aarohi. Aarohi,this is Mr. Levi Astor.”
She gasps. “You’re Celestine’s fiancé. So nice to meet you!”
That’s a first. But the warmth of pride spreading in my chest makes me want to hear this more. “Certainly am. Lovely meeting you.”
Now, if you’d just say your husband’s name one time, I’d be fucking grateful.
She grins. “I’ve been using Ms. Wentworth’s white paper on economic indicators in the Canadian retail market for my consumer demand forecasts. She’s absolutely brilliant.”
I smile at her. “That’s… my Cece. I don’t know how she gets the time to work on these research projects—all while handling the Wentworth Group.”
My whole frame relaxes the more I talk to these two. Our conversation flowing seamlessly. At one point, she finally utters her husband’s name, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
Lucian Vale of Kepler Health.
It was annoying me not being able to recall his name. But I won’t forget now. These two have been the only people in this whole crowd of meddlesome assholes who haven’t brought up anything related to the Astor scandal. Or the clause.
I’d been dodging the prying questions about Cece and me this whole evening. So this is a breath of fresh air.
My eyes wander, scanning the hall for Cece when Aarohi mentions her again. There she is. Standing with a group of young professionals. Trying her best to respond to their clearly animated questions.
Then I see it, my practiced smile falling off.
Her body is unnaturally rigid, a startled look on herface. One of the women is throwing her a smug smile, all while the others look away, biting back a smile like they’re in on a joke at my Cece’s expense.
Panic seizes my throat when her breathing aggravates. But more than the panic, blinding rage fills me.
Something’s wrong.
“Excuse me,” I mutter distractedly to Lucian and Aarohi. “I’ve gotta go. Nice to meet you both. Let’s keep in touch, yeah?”
