Page 85 of Bleed

She snorts into her champagne, hastily disguising it as a cough.

Elliott turns his attention away from the speaker just long enough to dart us both a warning glance, and we immediately compose ourselves. I go back to staring around the room, Valentina turns her gaze back to the podium. Then finally, after what feels like a lifetime, the speaker announces Elliott’s name.

The room erupts into applause. I leap to my feet with everyone else, clapping and cheering so loudly that Elliott shoots me a withering look before making his way to the podium.

He doesn’t look nervous to be taking center stage. If anything, he looks mildly inconvenienced by the entire ordeal.

The board presents him with a crystal award while cameras flash from every direction. He accepts it with a polite nod, shakes the appropriate hands, then adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he steps up to the podium.

The ballroom falls silent. I have no idea what to expect, but for the first time since the speeches began, my attention is fully locked in.

Elliott clears his throat.

“Thank you,” he begins, the rich tone of his voice booming through the speakers.

He offers his gratitude to the foundation, acknowledges the collaborators who contributed to his work, and expresses hope that future discoveries continue improving humanity. Then he nods once and steps away from the microphone.

That’s it.

The speech lasts a whole two minutes, tops, and applause follows him all the way back to the table. I clap just as enthusiastically the second time, grinning at Elliott as he sets the crystal award on the table and retakes his seat.

“Not sure if I should congratulate you on the award or the shortest speech of the night,” I tease.

“Acceptance speeches are frequently self-indulgent,” he replies, reaching for his wine.

I smirk. “Isn’t that the whole point?”

He gives a small shrug. “For some.”

Valentina smiles knowingly. “Eli likes to pretend he’s above all this posturing.”

He doesn’t deny it, the two of them sharing a look. It only lasts a second, but it’s enough to make my stomach dip– not to mention that every time she calls him Eli instead of Elliott, something inside me wilts just a little.

I want to hate her, I really do, but then she catches my eye and flashes one of those dazzling smiles before leaning over to whisper about the president of the board finding another excuse to take the microphone, and I snort into my champagne before I can stop myself.

Dammit.

The president wraps things up with closing remarks, and moments later the orchestra swells back to life. Conversations bloom throughout the ballroom as guests rise from their tables, drinks in hand, drifting into little clusters to socialize.

Beside me, Valentina glances toward the growing crowd and lets out a theatrical sigh.

“I suppose I should make the rounds,” she says, rising from her chair. She smooths an imaginary wrinkle from her dress before resting a hand briefly on Elliott’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. Take care of my girl.”

She tosses me a wink before peeling away from the table, and within seconds she’s swallowed by a sea of tuxedos and evening gowns, effortlessly smiling her way from one conversation to the next.

I watch her weave through the ballroom, somehow managing to make every person she stops to speak with look like they’ve just been handed the greatest gift imaginable.

I probably watch for a little too long. She’s fascinating, especially in a room full of boring scholarly types. A wave of servers deliver dessert plates, but I barely even glance at the chocolate cake when it’s placed in front of me, my attention still fixed across the room.

“You like her.”

I glance back at Elliott. It isn’t phrased as a question, but a statement.

“Yeah,” I admit, unable to hide my smile. I gesture toward Valentina, surrounded by admirers. “I mean… what’s not to like?” My eyes drift back to her almost on instinct before returning to Elliott again. “Is that weird for you?”

“Not at all,” he replies without an ounce of hesitation. “I’m glad you’ve found some enjoyment in the evening.”

“Haven’t you?” I ask, cocking a brow.