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Like in most social events I attend these days, I’m popular among the guests, and too many people want to meet me, to talk to me. I shake hand after hand, my expression blank, but pleasant. The truth is, I find most parties to be boring. I’d much rather be alone, working or thinking, than rubbing elbows with people who only have one thing in common with me, possession of wealth.
Someone introduces me to a beautiful woman with too perfect features, probably millions of dollars’ worth of surgery on the bottom half of her face alone. A tech entrepreneur’s model girlfriend gives me a smokey-eyed invitation when he’s not looking. Uninterested, I keep my eyes peeled for Cora.
Where is she?
What if she decides not to come?
She’ll come. She has a soft heart. The thought of helping children would bring her here.
What would make her stay though, after she sees me?
And what if she comes with the boyfriend?
Not that I care that she has someone.
Not that it matters to me.
It doesn’t.
She can pretend to be happy all she wants, but I know what it feels like to try to move on from what we had.
The event is about to start. People head for their seats. I linger at the edge of the room, waiting, hoping to see her face.
And then I do.
She walks into the ballroom through a set of wide doors, dressed simply in a deep blue evening dress, with her hair falling around her shoulders in soft waves. Suddenly, everything is moving in slow motion, giving me enough time to drown in every detail of her appearance.
Her makeup is a little more dramatic than usual–dark smokey eyeshadow and pink lipgloss. She looks beautiful, alluring, a dream of perfection in a room full of banality. I can’t take my eyes off her. Everything about her, from her lovely face to the soft curves of her body, beckons to me like a siren’s song.
Arousal floods my body, surging in my blood. I want to take her in my arms and crush her lips with kisses. I want to see the fire of desire flashing in her eyes.
I want her to know that I remember everything.
An usher leads her to her table. I watch her smile at the other people seated, then take her seat. I want to remain in my corner and watch her all night.
And that makes me angry with myself.
With a slight shake of my head, I head to my table, and as the event begins, I do my best to push Cora out of my head.
CHAPTER24
CORA
Tristan is here.
After the initial shock of seeing him striding to his table at the front, I accept that deep inside I’m not surprised. Of course, the invitation had nothing to do with the Mercer. It was him.
He brought me here for his own reasons.
Maybe to torture me again.
I should leave.
I glare at him from across the room. Someone at his table leans in to say something to him and he laughs. I don’t miss the fact that it’s a woman. Is she his date? Is that why he brought me here, to rub another woman in my face, to make me jealous?
If that’s the case, that ship has sailed. I’ve been jealous. I used to read all about his relationships, about the beautiful women he dated and left in a never-ending assembly line. One upon a time it had eaten me up with jealousy.
Now, I don’t care.
