Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Ah, hell. Here I thought she was giving me the cold shoulder again. But maybe she needs some strength, too, just like David did, so I try to give it to her. “She’s going to be fine. David’s going to be fine. We will know more after her surgery and figure out how we can help her and David. We’re going to do this tonight for him, and it’s going to be amazing,” I say, reassuring her.
Harlow’s green eyes widen.
Ethan grins.
Layla smiles warmly. “It is. Thanks. I needed that.” She gestures to her friends. “They’re going to help me set up. I’ll see you when it starts.”
She sounds a little wistful but also resigned. I’m desperate to grab her hand and steal a moment. But instead, as she heads off, I watch her go.
There’s no time to linger on her retreating silhouette either since my phone buzzes in my pocket.
David: She just went into surgery.
He adds a Band-Aid emoji.
The fact that he’s still using emojis tells me he’s managing well. Still, I want to make this situation with his girlfriend as easy for him as I can.
Nick: Let me know when she’s out. I looked up the name of the surgeon you gave me, and Cynthia’s in good hands.
David: THANK YOU.
I tuck my phone in my pocket, turn away from the entrance as a green sports car pulls up, and stay out of Layla’s way for the next hour.
The closer I am to her, the riskier it is for me. I can’t have all of the guests at my son’s event knowing how I feel for his ex-girlfriend.
A little later, I’ve got my game face on and I’m mingling with a packed ballroom of guests nibbling on smoked salmon crostini and mushroom tarts and drinking champagne. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sea gently laps the shore. Rose isn’t here. David said she texted that she’d stay in the city instead once she learned he wouldn’t be here. She made another donation, so that’s…nice.
It’s still odd being at events like this, where the well-to-do give away money. Before I made money, I was never invited to shindigs. Now that I make plenty, I can get in almost anywhere.
It’s a little ironic, but I don’t mind the schmooze. In fact, I’m a goddamn mayor at events like this. That’s the only way to make it through this evening where I’m playing so many parts—managing my son’s worries, hosting an event unexpectedly, and wishing it were Sunday so I can finally grab a moment with the woman in the pink and black dress.
I have to play another part. The good host.
I make small talk with the Steinbergs, who donated the chess set.
“This is so amazing, what David’s done,” Mrs. Steinberg says, eyeing the pretty crowd in their summer evening finery. “Such a shame he can’t see it come together.”
I waggle my phone. “I’m taking lots of pictures for him,” I say, then I excuse myself to say hello to the Chopards, who contributed the vintage jewelry.
After I’m done thanking them, I spot Kip the Ken doll, but the jealous dragon in me remains asleep this time. I know Layla’s only interested in one man, and it’s not Kip.
I take a minute to send the latest pics to David, then make my way to the guy who’s supposed to have a date with Layla next week. I lied…the dragon raises its snout as I remember the annoying fact that her mother thinks she’s single, that everyone thinks she’s single. That she, effectively, is single.
But I ignore those facts for now since I need to be a good host. “Good to see you again, Kip. I’m guessing that green Dodge Viper is yours?” I say, giving him a firm handshake as I lay an easy bet.
His smile both tells me he’s impressed I made the connection between him and the car, and that he likes impressing people with his wheels. “Sure is. I snagged that beauty a year ago,” he says, then goes on and on about horsepower and how she rides before he tilts his head. “And what did you say you do, sir?”
I didn’t fucking say, but of course that’s all you care about.
“I’m in VC,” I tell him, downplaying my role as the head of one of the top firms in the world.
“Nice. I work on Wall Street. Would I know your firm?”
Yes, you asshole.
“Strong Ventures,” I say.
His eyes pop. “Holy shit, man. You funded Vault when you led Alpha Ventures. Before the merger,” he says, and a surge of well-earned pride rushes through me. Vault is killing it in its early days. Kip rattles off several more startups that I turned into gold. It never gets old, watching someone’s attitude change. Suddenly, I’m somebody to him.
“Yes, we did,” I say, then I spot my buddy Travis, holding a beer, checking out the crowd. “I need to say hello to a college friend. But it was good chatting with you, Kip.”