Iwas way out of my element.
The thought hit me like a champagne cork to the forehead the second I stepped through the doors of The Evergreen Room. Everywhere I looked were sequins, silk, and sleek suits. Meanwhile, I was in a dress that still smelled faintly of my roommate Avery’s perfume and bad college decisions. She’d worn it to a frat formal years ago and swore it was “timeless.”
“Champagne, Miss?”
The waiter was polished within an inch of his life—crisp white shirt, posture like a ruler, smile perfectly neutral. This was the kind of worker who’d handle my party. I wondered if they’d compare me and my friends to the classy, super-wealthy people they normally had.
Would Grady compare us? That was the important question.
“Thank you.” I chose a champagne flute from one of the dozen or so on the tray he held and looked around. Just as he started to step away, I stopped him. “Do you know where I can find Grady Thorne?”
“Mr. Thorne?” The waiter’s smile warmed slightly. “Last I saw, he was in the conference room.”
He gave me directions and I headed that way, clutching my champagne like a security blanket. The Evergreen Room was even more stunning than I’d imagined. Winter stars cascaded across the ceiling like frozen magic. White roses and silver branches created a forest of elegance.
Everything Grady had stressed about this afternoon was worth it. The space was breathtaking.
But he wasn’t here enjoying it. He was hiding in a conference room.
I found the hallway easily enough, away from the music and laughter, and counted doors. Third on the right.Conference Room, according to the brass plaque. I was hesitant to trust it, after what had happened the other day, but through the window beside the door, I could see him.
Grady sat alone at a long conference table, his jacket off, tie loosened, staring at his screen with the kind of intensity most people reserved for defusing bombs. The soft glow from the screen lit his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow between his brows.
He looked…tired. And somehow more real than he had in his office or even in the mail room this afternoon.
I shouldn’t interrupt. He was clearly taking a break, and I was just the girl who’d dumped coffee on his wall and complicated his well-organized life. He’d invited me out of politeness—or maybe pity—and now I was tracking him down like some kind of?—
He looked up. Our eyes met through the window, and for a second, I considered running. Just turning around and pretending I’d gotten lost on my way to the bathroom.
But then he smiled. Not his professional smile or his polite CEO smile. A real one. Surprised and pleased and maybe a little relieved.
He gestured for me to come in. I eased the door open, suddenly hyperaware of how the borrowed dress fit, how my hair was probably already falling out of the updo I’d attempted.
“Hi,” I said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hunt you down. The waiter told me where you were and I just?—”
“I’m glad you came.” He stood, setting his phone face down on the table. “You look beautiful.”
The compliment hit me square in the chest. “Oh. Thanks. It’s Avery’s—my roommate’s. She said it was timeless, but I’m pretty sure she meant ‘hasn’t gone out of style yet.’”
“It suits you.” He pulled out the chair beside his. “Please. Sit. Unless you’d rather be out there with the masses?”
“God, no.” The words came out before I could stop them, and I winced. “I mean—it’s beautiful out there. Everything you planned is perfect. But it’s also…a lot.”
“It is a lot.” He sat back down, and I noticed the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “I don’t particularly enjoy these events. The actual parties, I mean.”
“Really? But you plan them.”
“Planning is different. Planning is control, making sure every detail aligns. But the events themselves?” He shook his head. “Small talk with people who don’t really want to talk to me. Fake smiles and forced networking. It’s exhausting.”
I sank into the chair beside him, relieved. “I thought I was the only one who felt like that.”
“You?” He looked genuinely surprised. “You seem like someone who’d thrive at parties. You’re warm, genuine, and easy to talk to.”
“Now, maybe. But that’s not how I grew up.” I took a sip of champagne, needing the courage. “I went to college on a full scholarship. That was the first time I had friends. A real social life. Before that, it was just me and my uncle’s empty house and a lot of silence.”
Grady’s expression softened. “That must have been lonely.”
“It was. But college…” I sighed, remembering. “It was like someone turned on all the lights. Suddenly, I had roommates who wanted to stay up late talking. Friends who invited me places. People who cared if I was okay. I was so busy making up for lost time, just having friends, that I never really…”
