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)
I’m great at my job. I’m killing tonight.
Once this event is over, I’ll only have to make polite conversation with Sebastian on the rare occasion Nico invites him over. I can put him out of my head entirely and keep focusing on growing my business. Who knows how many clients I’ll land from tonight? My entire future spreads out in front of me, vast as the LA skyline. And Sebastian isn’t part of it.
“Val, I’m so sorry to bother you, but the firework guy can’t find his fuse,” Tessa says from behind me.
I bow my head and take a deep breath. Back to work.
The night winds to a close as final remarks wrap up and guests file through for gift bags. I meet my staff in the kitchen while we indulge in our favorite post-event ritual, divvying up the leftover dessert.
“Tonight was incredible, everyone,” I tell them. “I threw you to the wolves with this one, and you rose to the occasion perfectly. Get ready, because there’s going to be a lot more of this.”
To my chagrin and embarrassment, they all start applauding me, and I finally do allow myself to roll my eyes.
“Get out of here,” I tell them. “Enjoy some well-deserved rest.”
I leave the catering team to pack up and head back into the ballroom. I take one last look at the room before the hotel staff pulls it all down. Empty plates and half-burned candles everywhere are all signs of a well-run event. My feet ache and my brain hurts, and all I can possibly process is sinking into a hot bubble bath and sleeping for the next two days.
Part of me is a little disappointed that Sebastian doesn’t stay behind to congratulate me, but I refuse to acknowledge that part. This wasn’t his success. It was mine. If anything, I pulled this off in spite of him, and I’m damn proud of it. I’m finally free of his anal-retentive tendencies.
I walk through the now-quiet hotel, smiling to myself the whole way to the car. I toss my bag in the trunk and sink into the front seat, exhausted. I’m about to put the car in reverse when I notice something on the windshield.
“Goddamnit,” I curse. I groan as I climb out of the car and walk around the front. My whole body is sore from standing all night, and my feet are absolutely protesting this unscheduled movement.
None of that matters when I see what’s been left for me. The single white rose turns my entire body cold, and I can’t feel anything but abject terror. There’s only one person who’s ever given me white roses. Even then, he knew I hated them.
Underneath the rose is a note. I don’t want to read it. I want to rip it to shreds and run over the pieces, but I grab it with shaking hands and hold it up to read.
Great work tonight, babe.
Simple enough, but it turns my stomach. I look behind me, sure he’s going to be standing there, watching my reaction as I take in the words. Not just the words, but also the knowledge that he was here. He watched me tonight. How could I have missed him?
No. That’s not the right question. He wouldn’t let himself be seen if he didn’t want to be. That would’ve ruined his whole surprise. He gets off on my fear.
I crumple the rose in my hand and stomp it on the ground, crushing the petals under my foot. It isn’t much, but it gives me some semblance of control. It’s literally all I have.
Then I do rip up the note, but I keep the pieces until I can find a trash can. It isn’t until I’m back in the car that I realize my finger is bleeding. I must’ve caught it on one of the thorns.
12
SEBASTIAN
By nine the next morning, I’ve already fielded three congratulatory calls, two emails, and one message from a city councilman’s office thanking us for a “beautiful and meaningful evening.” The one thing everyone agrees on is that it was our best gala to date.
I sit behind my desk with coffee cooling untouched near my hand and the gala recap open on my laptop. The ballroom photos are already circulating through private group chats and society accounts. The foundation board is thrilled. The hotel team is relieved. The check total came in higher than projected.
Now that the event is over, only one thought keeps circling back. I have no more excuses to see Valentina on a regular basis.
We had weeks of meetings and walkthroughs to keep us tethered to each other. A hundred practical reasons to have Valentina in my office, in my ballroom, in my life. Now there’s an invoice coming, a few wrap-up emails, maybe one final debrief if I invent a reason for it. After that, nothing.