Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
As I ride up the elevator to the ballroom, I smooth the front of it with my hands and try to calm my nerves. This is my first time at an event like this. I don’t want to mess it up.
Elena is waiting when the elevator doors open, and her face lights up the second she sees me.
“Oh, thank God!” she nearly shouts.
“That bad?” I ask. I was only gone for an hour and a half.
“Mr. Armand has pulled Lucille from the guest entry three times to deal with vendor issues. Three guests came in through the wrong hallway because of it and got lost, and some drunk prick tried to sneak in and one of the guards from Bastion nearly tackled him. It’s been a rough half hour.”
I nod and follow her into the private ballroom. Earlier, the tables were still being set under harsh lighting, but now the chandeliers glow low and candles flicker at each table. A few guests mill around talking, and a jazz trio in the corner plays soft music meant to set the mood without overwhelming it.
So far, everything looks good. If all goes well, none of the guests will realize what a clusterfuck the last few hours have been.
Dominic is already there, talking to someone over by the bar. His eyes find me the moment I step into the ballroom, and my stomach flutters when our gazes meet. He looks incredible in his tux, and I try desperately not to notice.
I’m here to work. Nothing more.
I walk over to Lucille, who looks just as happy as Elena to see me. She visibly relaxes and hands me a clipboard.
“I’m going back to check-in,” she says. “These people are driving me nuts!”
For the next half hour, I find out exactly why. Nothing is going right tonight, and nobody is on their A-game. My only solace is that I had almost nothing to do with planning this event. If anything, putting out all these fires makes me look good to Dominic.
Kevin approaches with an unreadable look on his face. “Ms. Bellini,” he calls.
“Mr. Armand,” I answer with my most professional smile. “Is everything all right?”
“That’s what I was coming to ask you,” he says in a tight voice.
I glance toward the ballroom. “Cocktail hour is going great,” I tell him. “Dinner service starts in fifteen minutes, and the kitchen’s ready to plate everyone within ten so no one’s left waiting. Elena’s overseeing it. As far as I can tell, everything’s on track.”
What I don’t tell him is that cocktail hour nearly fell apart when the waiters forgot two of the appetizers and ran out of meatballs in five minutes. Elena’s been wrestling a broken warmer in the kitchen, and three waiters called out sick. All disasters he doesn’t need to be privy to.
“Excellent.” He nods. “You’ve done very well under the last-minute pressure. You’re very young to be so composed.”
I’m not exactly sure how to take that. It sounds like a compliment on the surface, but the deeper I dig, the more it verges on rude. So I just nod and say, “Well, I’d better get back to Elena.”
He gives me a wolfish grin and blocks my path, just enough that it might look accidental. “Walk with me for a minute.”
It’s not a question or request. I’ve worked with Dominic long enough that I know when I’m being commanded.
I look across the room to find Dominic. He’s speaking animatedly to someone, his attention completely focused away from me. Part of me wants to excuse myself to check on my boss, but I need to make sure this evening goes off with no visible hitch.
“Of course,” I say, overriding any part of my brain that has sense. There’s a ballroom full of people. There’s no reason to be concerned.
He leads me out of the ballroom and into a side hallway that connects to a private dining room. I keep one step behind him, the way I always walk with Dominic. My alarm bells are ringing, but I’m not ready to go nuclear just yet. The hallway is quiet, though not deserted. Service doors line it, with plenty of staff behind them who’d step in if they heard someone scream. Probably.
“I’m curious,” he says, turning on me. “How long have you worked for Dominic?”
“A little over a month,” I tell him honestly.
“Is that all?” He chuckles. “He already trusts you a lot for such a short time.”
I just shrug. “I do my job well and don’t complain.”
He stops near a narrow alcove by the private coatroom. It’s not hidden, exactly, but it’s far enough from the ballroom entrance that the music sounds muffled.
His eyes crawl over me in a way that makes my skin go tight.
“Dominic likes to keep pretty things around him. And I imagine you two have a lot of late nights together.”