Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65112 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
“Thank you.”
That is the entirety of our first post-sex interaction. She turns back to her staff and continues giving instructions while I stand there for one extra beat, feeling vaguely ridiculous that I expected anything else.
This is what she wants. Distance. Control. Professional terms restored immediately. I can respect that. More than that, I understand it. If our positions were reversed, distance would be the smart move. It is the smart move now.
So why does it bother me this much?
I move on because there’s no practical alternative, but for the next hour I keep catching sight of her across the room. She’s so coolly composed, so entirely locked into event mode, that last night starts to feel like something I made up.
A board member corners me near the bar setup to complain about her seating. I handle that. Security wants one final review of the donor vehicle sequence. I handle that too. The foundation photographer asks if he can shift the lighting. I tell him absolutely not, because Valentina already made that call and I trust her more than him.
By late afternoon, I find her near the ballroom entrance reviewing the final cue sheet with the AV lead. She finishes, sends him away, and makes a note on her clipboard before I reach her.
“The stanchion was moved,” I say.
“I saw.”
“Do you need anything else?”
She glances toward the doors, then back at me. “Two of the sponsor wives showed up early to inspect the floral wall, and one of them has very loud opinions. No real authority, of course, so I’m not worried. Otherwise, we’re in good shape.”
That almost earns a smile from me. “You look thrilled.”
“I’m saving my joy for after the check presentation.”
Her mouth stays straight when she says it, but there’s dry humor underneath. Better than the frosty professionalism from earlier, but not by much.
I lower my voice slightly. “Did you get any sleep last night?”
Her expression doesn’t change. Not outwardly. But I see the pause before she answers.
“I got enough.”
She’s lying. She looks as collected as ever, but there’s a faint tightness under her eyes that I doubt anyone else here would catch.
“We’ve got everything covered,” she says before I can push further. “I’ll handle donor flow, stage transitions, board wrangling, the auction sequence. You need to go get dressed.”
There it is again. Business only. Structure and efficiency and not one inch of room for anything personal.
I study her for a second. “You’ve got everything covered, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Her answer is immediate and certain.
Valentina built this evening the same way she builds everything else, through sheer force of competence and control. The smart move is to trust that and step back so the event can run. Instead, all I can think is that she doesn’t seem remotely affected by last night.
Unfortunately, it’s all I can think about.
11
VALENTINA
“Val, the ice is getting low,” one of the waitresses whispers to me in passing.
I nod and pass the task off to my catering director. Tonight is going well, and that’s not by accident. I’ve made sure I’m ready to mitigate any disaster that comes our way. There is nothing I haven’t prepared for.
Besides the aftereffects of sleeping with Sebastian, of course.
God, I hate feeling this distracted when I need to be focused on the event. I’m doing my best to ignore him, but I clock every single place he’s in, trying not to let our paths cross. I wasn’t lying earlier. I do have this completely under control, as long as I don’t think of him or acknowledge him in any way. It gets harder as the night goes on.
An hour before the gala started, I slipped into a supply closet to change into the black dress I’d brought for the evening. I don’t always dress up this much for my events, and I told myself I was only doing it because of the caliber of clientele. That was, of course, a lie. I knew I’d look good managing the event in this dress, and I wanted Sebastian to see me looking good. I bought the dress long before I decided to sleep with him.
My makeup is light and professional, but I know it accentuates my features. I’ve spent years perfecting this look, and I know exactly the effect it has on men. Part of me wishes I could put a paper bag over my head so I wouldn’t be so aware of the way his eyes linger on me from across the room.
“Veronica says the canapés aren’t going out on schedule,” Tessa tells me halfway through cocktail hour. “And Bruce says the photo carpet has a crazy line.”
I groan internally.
“We have three photographers there. Tell Bruce to make sure the guests aren’t stopping at every single one. You get one photo tonight. This isn’t the Oscars. I’ll deal with the canapés. I already have to tell Veronica we’re running low on ice at the bar.”