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“Um... it’s a pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Anderson. Thank you for having me,” I say. “And please call me McKenzie.”
“McKenzie recently opened Seattle Accounting,” Byron says, “and she supplies temporary or full-time staff if you ever need anyone.”
“Is that so? I’ll have to come in and see you on Monday,” Joseph says. “Most certainly.” Someone calls out to him. “I’m sorry to rush off. You know how these parties go. But I won’t forget about Monday.” And like that he’s gone.
I can barely think, let alone get words out about how excited I am at the prospect of having Joseph Anderson visiting my place of business. “Do you really think he’ll come?”
“Joseph never says anything he doesn’t plan to follow through on,” Byron assures me.
“Oh, my gosh, Byron, do you have any idea what it would do for my company if he hired us?”
Byron laughs. “Hey. Am I now chopped liver?”
“Of course not!” I say as I grab his arm. “It’s just that it’s the Andersons...The Andersons!”
“Yeah, yeah, Seattle’s royalty,” he replies, but with humor. Yes, the Andersons are a force to be reckoned with, but that doesn’t make Byron any less of a force.
“You’re pouting now,” I tell him. Somehow my nerves have evaporated along with my champagne. Before I can tell Byron I don’t need more, another flute’s placed in my hand, and I sip it.
“Come. We have more people to meet,” Byron says, taking my hand and squeezing before he wraps his arm around me. I feel like royalty as we make our way across the gleaming marble floors and greet a number of influential people.
I get a rare glimpse into why Byron’s such a successful man. Though he tells everyone and anyone that he doesn’t particularly like his fellow human beings, he’s a natural crowd-pleaser, a person who knows exactly what to say to both men and women. I’m in awe of his ability to shine when he puts his mind to it.
“Ah, another important person for you to meet,” Byron says, leading me to stand in front of none other than Rafe Palazzo. He’s next to a petite brunette wearing a gown that’s worthy of the red carpet, with emeralds so brilliant they seem to outshine everything in the room.
“It’s been a while, my friend,” Rafe says, shaking Byron’s hand.
“Yeah, we both work too much,” Byron replies. “Rafe, this is my date, McKenzie Beaumont.”
“So what’s a nice woman like you doing with a man like this?” Rafe asks, holding out his hand. Before I can answer, the woman next to him rolls her eyes.
“Don’t mind my husband. He likes to shock people. I’m Ari.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” I say. The Palazzo family came from Italy and settled in San Francisco. Everyone knows of them because they’re beyond powerful.
“Are you enjoying the party?” Rafe asks. “I have to say Joseph knows how to throw one and guarantee the pockets of his guests are empty at the end of the night.”
“That’s for sure,” Byron says. “But he and his wife, Katherine, always pick the best charities, ones that deserve every dollar in donations, so I give without a second thought.”
“Very true,” Rafe replies. “And the deductions don’t hurt either.”
I stand by and listen, knowing I’m far out of my league. I want to hang out with people of this caliber, but I don’t come anywhere near their level. Am I trying too hard to carve out a name for myself? Are my ambitions doomed from the get-go? Is everyone here secretly laughing at me?
After Byron and I leave Rafe and Ari, I’m introduced to a number of other people, and the night becomes a blur of names and faces. How can I remember any of them when my mind’s so focused on what Byron’s doing with me and why he’s telling everyone I’m his date? Then there’s the real question, the one I’m afraid to ask. What’s going to happen when the two of us leave the party?
Chapter Twenty-Five
Byron
Trust isn’t easy for me to give. I grip my glass and try to pay attention to what some woman whose name I’ve already forgotten is saying to me. But all I can do is watch and listen in awe as McKenzie leans back and lets out a peal of laughter. It’s a beautiful sound.
But the man making her laugh doesn’t realize his life’s in jeopardy. I don’t do jealousy, but at the moment, the green-eyed monster has me in a choke hold, and my testosterone is spiking to dangerous levels.
I don’t think McKenzie’s interested in leaving the fundraiser with another guy, but again, trust doesn’t come easily to me. My mother — more accurately, the woman who gave birth to me — laughed like that, flirted with men right in front of my father. But there’s a difference. Mymotherhad gone to those men’s beds and her husband was well aware of that fact.
She was a flat-out bitch — a whore to end all whores — and aren’t all women the same? Sure, McKenzie’s here with me tonight, but only because I promised she could meet wealthy people who will come running through her doors to buy her services. Which services does she want to provide?
I down my champagne and take a step toward her. But I stop myself. For the past few hours I’ve been by her side. I can spend fifteen minutes without her. Yet why does everything inside me make me want to walk up to her and stake my claim? She’s bad for me, so very bad that I can’t seem to care about the way she’s messing with my head.
