Page 10 of One of Those Amnesia Stories

“Fine.” She pulled away, smoothing down her dress with a deeply offended expression. “Naija knows a guy.”

“I’ll look into it,” Naija replied, still scrolling through her phone.

I laughed again.

Felicity looked pleased with herself, clearly satisfied that she’d managed to pull me out of my head, even briefly. “Now that we’ve established our backup strategy, I’m going to go try every expensive dish you’ve spent a fortune putting out.”

I smiled. “Go nuts.”

“With pleasure.”

She was gone in seconds.

Naija glanced up from her phone, already slipping back into work mode.

I straightened up. “I’ll take the right side of the room. You take the left.”

“Got it.” She was already moving.

I turned to leave, then stopped. “Naija, what’s that guy’s name?” I pointed at ChBrad.

She followed my gaze toward him, checked him over with a quick glance, then looked back at me. “Thad.”

I stared at her. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

I looked at the man again, then back at her, genuinely offended on his behalf. “What kind of parents name their kid Thad?”

Naija had already started walking away, completely unfazed by my crisis. “The kind named Chad and Brad.”

For the next few hours, I played the perfect host.

I smiled until the muscles along my cheeks burned. Topped off glasses before anyone had to ask. Moved from one conversation to the next with Cassian’s name tucked neatly between compliments and business prospects, slipping Velaré Hotels into the right ears whenever an opening appeared.

All the while, a small, persistent worry kept twisting beneath my ribs.

I hope he’s okay.

It was strange how quickly my mind went to him now. Not long ago, Cassian had been a stranger whose name meant nothing to me. Now, I could be surrounded by a hundred people and still find myself wondering whether he’d eaten, whether he was still working, whether he’d remembered to take a break.

And to think, if one stupid mistake hadn’t put Cassian in my path, I might never have met him at all.

Liam was supposed to be my date that day, courtesy of the arranged marriage setup my mother had organized. Except Liam, being Liam, had misplaced the date and was out of the city when it arrived.

So he sent Cassian.

Cassian came looking for me because Liam had left him with one simple task: find me, explain his absence, apologize for the inconvenience, and leave.

That was the plan, anyway.

Instead, he stayed.

And we talked.

One question turned into another, and somehow, the conversation kept finding somewhere new to go. When a server came by to clear our plates and asked whether we wanted anything else, I glanced at the clock and froze.

Three hours.