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Fuck my father for forcing me into this stupid arrangement. If it weren’t for my inheritance, I’d tell him to piss off.
Publicists were glorified babysitters, and I didn’t want or need a babysitter. Besides, as pleasing to the eye as she was, I could already tell Sloane was going to be a major buzzkill.
That’d been our first meeting. My initial animosity toward her had run out of oxygen since then, leaving…hell, I didn’t know. Curiosity. Attraction. Frustration.
Much more complicated emotions than hostility, unfortunately.
I didn’t know when the switch flipped, but I wished I could go back andunflip it. I’d much rather hate her than be intrigued by her.
“Stand up straight,” Sloane said without taking her eyes off the man beelining toward us. “You’re at a black-tie event, not the beach. Try topretendyou want to be here.”
“There’s alcohol, food, and a gorgeous woman by my side. Of course I want to be here,” I drawled, telling the truth in the first part and lying my ass off in the second.
My gaze skimmed over her quickly enough to escape her notice, yet long enough to imprint the image in my mind. On anyone else, her simple black gown would’ve been boring, but Sloane could wear a grocery bag and still blow everyone else out of the water.
The silk skimmed her lean frame, highlighting her flawless skin and smooth, bare shoulders. She’d swept her hair into a fancier version of its usual bun, and other than a pair of small diamond-drop earrings, she wore no accessories and barely any makeup. She’d obviously dressed with the intention of blending in, but she could no more blend into a crowd than a jewel could blend into mud.
I’ll be honest—I hadn’t expected her to accept my deal. I’d hoped she would, but she was married to her job and the gala wasn’tthatimportant. It was a run-of-the-mill event honoring my father, not the Legacy Ball or a royal wedding.
The fact she would give up a week of precious work time in exchange for my attendance here? It reeked of fishiness, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
I’d been dying to get Sloane away from the office for a while. She was wound so tight she was bound to explode, and I didn’t want to be there when it happened. She needed a release. Plus, the trip was the perfect opportunity to corrupt her—get her to let her hair down (literally and figuratively), loosen up, have some fun. I wouldpayto see her lounging on the beach like a normal person instead of making people cry on the phone.
Sloane Kensington needed a vacation more than anyone else I knew, and I needed—
“Xavier!” Eduardo finally reached us. My father’s best friend and interim CEO of the Castillo Group clapped a hand on my shoulder, interrupting my thoughts before they strayed down a dangerous path. “I didn’t expect to see you here,mijo.”
“Me neither,” I said dryly. “Good to see you,tío.”
He wasn’t my biological uncle, but he might as well have been. He and my father had been friends since childhood, and he’d been one of his most trusted advisors before my father fell ill. Eduardo was currently running the ship until the board made a final decision on whether to wait for my father to get better or find a new permanent CEO.
Eduardo turned to Sloane and gave her a customary Colombian cheek kiss. “Sloane, you look lovely,” he said. “I assume I have you to thank for this one showing up. I know how hard it is to wrangle him, eh? When he was a kid, we called himpequeño toro. Stubborn as a little bull.”
Her earlier ire melted into a professional smile. “It’s my job. I’m happy to do it.”
She was as good a liar as I was.
The three of us chatted for a bit until another guest pulled Eduardo away. He was accepting the Philanthropist of the Year award on behalf of my father since I’d refused to do it, but everyone seemed eager to talk business instead of charity with him.
Typical.
I caught Sloane checking her watch again as we wound our way toward our table. “That’s the dozenth time you’ve looked at your watch since we arrived,” I said. “If you’re that eager to leave, we can skip the boring ceremony and get hammered at the bar.”
“I don’t gethammered, and if you must know, I’m meeting someone in an hour. I trust you can behave yourself after I leave.” Despite her cool tone, visible tension lined her jaw and shoulders.
“Meeting someone this late in London?” We settled in our seats just as the emcee took the stage and applause filled the room.“Don’t tell me you have a hot date.”
“Whether I do or don’t is none of your business.” She picked up the calligraphed menu card and scanned it for walnuts, no doubt. Sloane had a strange vendetta against them (and it wasn’t an allergy; I’d checked).
“I’m surprised you find time to date.” The emcee began his welcome speech. Reason told me to drop the issue, but I couldn’t. There was something about Sloane that always made reason fly out the window. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Xavier.” She dropped the menu and looked at me. “Now’s not the time. We don’t want a repeat of the Cannes fiasco.”
I rolled my eyes. Get caught dozing offonceduring a major awards speech and I was suddenly the bad guy. If these types of events weren’t so damn boring, maybe I’d have an easier time staying awake.
People didn’t know entertainment these days. Who wanted stuffy elevator music and the same boring drinks they served at every gala? No one. If I cared enough, I’d give the organizers a few pointers, but I didn’t.
The servers brought out the food, which I ignored in favor of more champagne as the ceremony trudged on.
