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“I just want an amazing evening, Pres. I fucking need it, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen.” A small, sad smile covers his strong features as he slowly nods his head in agreement.
“Still having work trouble?”
“Fucking Clearwater did a number on my company. I’m trying to get it all running again, but the future looks gloomy right now.” I needed this evening to be a distraction from reality.
“You’ll figure it out, mate.”
“Of course, but fuck, the amount of stress is unthinkable.” He claps his hand on my shoulder before squeezing it softly. Prescott will have my back no matter what, but it’s my mess because I invited Frederic Clearwater into the mix and it proved to be a mistake.
We approach Moreen and Jocelyn, who are deep in conversation about the people around us.
“Hello,” Moreen says, greeting us with her hoarse voice while Jocelyn smiles our way politely.
“Jocelyn, darling,” Prescott says in his standard way of greeting the ever-almightybusiness woman,who only nods her head once before looking back at the crowd. It doesn’t matter how distant her reactions are, Prescott has made it his life goal to get a response.
“What’s he up to?” Moreen asks while looking over my shoulder in Sebastian’s direction.
“Drinking,” Prescott answers.
“Of course.” Moreen sighs. Her disappointment is clear in the way her face falls before she picks back up her conversation with Jocelyn.
Sometimes I just want to slap both of them and shake some sense into them. You don’t have to live an unhappy life if there are other options. But divorce sounded even too dramatic for my parents, and it would have only screwed my mother over as my father is the one with the billion-dollar company. She would be stupid to settle for less if her lifestyle has always been outrageous.
“That’s Topper Dubois,” Moreen mumbles, pointing to the right. “He made Fahrenheit into a large and successful company all because he wrote about their sustainable fashion choices. A brilliant mind and a huge social media presence.”
“Have you talked to him yet?” Jocelyn asks, and Moreen quickly shakes her head.
“Well, then get acquainted,” she responds, already pushing Moreen onto the dance floor. Jocelyn has an eye for business. Always seeking opportunities where there aren’t any yet. It’s all about searching for closed doors and opening them.
Moreen and Jocelyn havebeen friends since childhood, and recently, Moreen has dived into the world of fashion.
“How are you doing, Jocelyn?” Prescott wonders as he moves to stand next to her. My eyes follow Moreen as she crosses to the other side of the room.
“Fine,” Jocelyn says, making me smile. That’s exactly the response that will make Prescott hunt for more than just that superficial answer. He then proceeds to dive into a new set of questions about her week.
I zone in on the man they were talking about. It’s the leather suit that gives away the fashion icon. No one here is bold enough to wear anything other than an old-fashioned tailored suit. Well, except for Ada … she’d wear about anything.
But Dubois doesn’t hold my attention long. It’s the beautiful woman walking away. I’m not one to proclaim to have my breath stolen by a woman before. It’s more a slap to the face as I wake up from that boring bliss that hung around us.
She’s absolutely stunning, and my mind fills with questions that need to be answered. To start with, who is she? What would her silver blonde hair feel like slipping through my fingers? It’s wavy, long, and put into a high ponytail. It looks like it was spun by Rumpelstiltskin himself.
Her bronze skin shimmers under the lights, highlighting her delicate collarbone, making me wonder what her skin feels like. She’s wearing a soft pink silk dress fitted to her body, showing curves that are tiny, but nonetheless desirable. The top part of her dress has wide sleeves. And the only thing I can think about is how much I want to tear it off her body.
“Who’s she?” I ask, pointing toward the woman whose face is hidden by her thick, luscious hair. I wait for an answer while not being able to keep my eyes off her.
“No idea.” She shrugs her shoulders. I thought Jocelyn would know her name, considering she knows everyone. All the guests are possible cash cows or business partners.
“She looks familiar though,” Prescott adds, frowning as he follows her walking toward the lobby with his piercing blue eyes. I stare at her, taking Prescott’s remark into consideration, but I’ve never seen her before because I would have remembered her. I would have remembered her name.
I might not know now, but I will in just a matter of minutes.
“Mate, where are you going?” Prescott yells after me.
“Getting acquainted.”
Chapter Three
Evangeline
