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I didn’t have to look for long.
She was out on the central entrance’s balcony, chugging champagne like it was Gatorade and talking on her phone. Her back was to me.
“…swiped for me on Tinder, but, like, never answered my message. What’s even up with that? Like, why did he swipe if he didn’t wanna talk? I don’t understand.”
Hard to believe this woman was in charge of anything more important than her laundry basket, but somehow, she was my event planner for the evening.
“Ms. Moretz.” I stepped into her line of vision, scooped her phone from her hand, and casually tossed it off the balcony. Her expression, somewhere between shock and embarrassment, told me she knew she’d blown it. “Thought we agreed in our contract to leave personal phones at the door.”
“Y—yes, we did,” she stammered, laughing awkwardly. “And for the most part, I did…sorry, I only took a five-minute break.”
“How about we make it an eternity break?” A cold smile touched my lips.
“What?”
“You’re fired.”
“What?!”
“You’re fired,” I repeated, more slowly now.
“I got what you said the first time. You can’t fire me! I’ll—”
“Think carefully about your next sentence, since you’ve broken a contractual agreement, and right now, I’m willing to let you walk away without tarnishing your reputation among my colleagues.”
Her face fell further.
“It’s true what they say,” she snarled. “You are a prick.”
A prick that needed someone else to make the grand presidency announcement for him. In approximately six minutes.
I turned around and strolled back into the ballroom. I was leaning toward having Francesca’s mother make the announcement. I’d met cocaine bags more presentable than the woman, but I knew Francesca would greatly appreciate the gesture.
I frequently found myself disgusted with my own weakness for my wife. Didn’t stop me from making one decision after the other to merely please her.
Moving back into the ballroom, I could immediately sense something was amiss.
That something was my wife.
“Where’s Nem?” I demanded when I reached Ms. Sterling, who was still talking to Smithy.
Ms. Sterling looked around her, surprised by my question. “I thought she was with you? She said she was going to look for you.”
Fuck.
I made a beeline outside, roaming the main hall, the restrooms, the grounds of the Royal Chicago Museum.
Nothing.
A scream lodged in my throat.
I held my phone in a death grip, about to order every one of the fifty-seven security detail in this place to stop everything and look for my wife, when I heard her familiar lilt coming from behind the building.
“Mr. Rispo, while I’m very flattered, I’m also extremely uninterested. Please leave.”
My blood turned to ice.
I rounded the building to where her voice came from, reminding myself a million times over to control my temper.
