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Roman has been trying — in his own way. He took the morning off to nurse Leo back to health the day after our heated conversation. Then, he came home early the following afternoon, giving me my first evening off-duty since I’d begun working for him. I’m ashamed to say I spent it holed up in my suite with food home-delivered.
I haven’t heard from Elio since the text, but I’m still wary. New York is a daunting enough city as it is, let alone when my possessive ex is potentially wandering the streets, searching for me. Still, my loneliness felt suffocating and I decided to text some old friends from college to let them know I am back in town. Tonight, we plan to catch up over drinks and dancing. I’ll be glad to finally experience some normalcy again.
The problem is that it’s already eight p.m. and I’m waiting for Roman’s elegant cocktail party to finish up. Why he decided to bring a flock of businessmen to the penthouse where he hides his secret son, I have no idea.
When I asked, he muttered something about “making them believe they know more about me than they do… to get them on my side.” The more I learn about business, the less I understand it.
He warned me to keep Leo occupied upstairs, so that’s what I do. The din of chatter and laughter floats up, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon.
Leo is fast asleep on the guestroom bed, where we spent the last two hours watching a movie. My work here is officially done, but I’m trapped. I was at least warned of the plans in advance, so I brought a change of clothes with me. That way, I can head straight out in my favorite shimmery dress whenever His Highness dismisses me.
I slip it on in the ensuite bathroom, touching up my makeup and adding a little smoke and lipstick to my everyday look. After letting my hair down from its neat bun and brushing out the kinks, I wonder if maybe I’ll fit in downstairs.
When it hits nine, the time Roman promised the party would be over by, my patience runs out. Leaving Leo tucked up in bed, I creep down the hallway and peer over the balcony to glean how busy the room is.
Pretty damn busy. Groups of people wearing dapper suits and elegant dresses converse over sparkling champagne. The room is completely brimming with them, and none of them seem to plan to leave anytime soon. A few of them even lounge on loveseats, making themselves comfortable.
There’s no way I’m getting out of here if I follow his rules.
Which means, of course, that I’m not going to.
I offer a smooth smile to the group of men whose attention I glean on my way down the modern staircase, my dress catching the golden chandelier light. The coffee table has been pushed back to allow more room for socializing, and buckets of champagne are taken advantage of on every available surface.
It’s like the parties my Mom used to host when I was a kid, the kind made only to show off wealth and status. To impress people with talks of summer vacations and job promotions, and to gossip about others behind their backs. Events like this used to bore me to tears, especially because I was either warned to be on my best behavior in front of the guests or else exiled to my bedroom with only Brandon and his action men for company.
I see no sign of Roman as I enter the throng, which only makes those lusty gazes turn to curious ones. Most of the people here look older than me by at least ten years, probably all of them wealthy business owners, board members, shareholders, and investors either in Roman’s company or the ones he wishes to take over.
I can hear the cogs in their brains turning, wondering who I am. I decide to sway my hips; have a little fun with it. Maybe I’ll piss Roman off, which certainly sounds entertaining.
If he was even here.
Has he really abandoned his own damn party?
I’m about to snatch a champagne bottle from the nearest bucket, thinking I’ll at least enjoy a little pre-drinking before heading out when I’m summoned by a cheerful, albeit unfamiliar, voice.
“Wow! Has Roman been hiding away the most beautiful woman in the room all night?”
Since there are very few women in the room at all, it isn’t a difficult accomplishment. I cringe before turning around with a polite smile.
I find a tanned middle-aged man grinning at me with twinkling green eyes. My Mom would call him a “silver fox” on account of his thick, graying hair and chiseled handsomeness — and to be fair, she wouldn’t be wrong. I feel like I’m looking at a future version of Roman, only this man is thinner, shorter, and lacks Roman’s natural sullenness, which makes his face far more pleasant but not nearly as handsome.
“I’m not sure he would agree with that,” I joke, eyes darting to find the man in question. Still, nowhere to be found.
Great. Now what?
“Do you work for Mr. Sterling, or are you lucky enough to be here for pleasure?”
“Um… A little of both.”
He chortles as though my reply is hilarious. I lift my brows in surprise before laughing along with him. From the way everyone seems to gravitate towards this man, their bodies angled and gazes fixed intently on him, I can only assume he’s an important part of tonight.
Roman said he was hosting this party to win over a potential investor. Either he’s escaped to do just that with some privacy, or this man here is his target.
“I’m Damon Reid.”
“Madison.” When I go to shake his hand, he places a quick kiss on my knuckles, leaving me blushing. And they say chivalry is dead.
