“You’re supposed to tell me that nothing will go wrong.”
“I could tell you, but you’d know I was lying.”
“So instead you’re going with radical honesty?”
“I’m going with the truth. This is going to be uncomfortable. People are going to ask invasive questions. Someone will probably say something rude, but we’ll get through it together.”
She squeezes my hand in response. The gesture is small but grounding. “Together. I like the sound of that.”
“Are you ready?”
“Absolutely not, but let’s go anyway.”
I lead her toward the door while our hands remain connected. It feels natural in a way that kind of terrifies me.
The hallway leading to the ballroom is packed. I can hear the string quartet playing something classical and the murmur of conversation rises and falls as the clink of crystal punctuates the air.
Bailey’s grip on my hand tightens fractionally.
“You’ve got this,” I murmur close to her ear.
“We’ve got this.”
The ballroom doors open in front of us. Music and light spill out into the hallway. I feel her take a breath beside me.
Then we step inside together.
The effect is immediate and unmistakable.
Conversations pause mid-sentence. Heads turn in our direction. I feel the weight of dozens of eyes landing on us. They’re looking at her hand in mine. They’re looking at how we stand close enough that our shoulders brush.
A photographer I didn’t notice by the door raises his camera, and the flash goes off.
Bailey doesn’t flinch or hesitate. She lifts her chin slightly and squares her shoulders, and God, I’ve never been more attracted to anyone in my life.
“Mr. Williams.” Richard Larsson himself approaches us first. He’s a short, silver-haired man squeezed into a suit that looks like it has shrunk around him. If my stability didn’t depend on his merger, I’d probably have avoided him.
“Richard. This is Bailey Rodgers. Bailey, this is Richard Larsson.”
Bailey extends her hand with the brightest smile. “Mr. Larsson. Daniel has told me about your company. The sustainable energy portfolio is impressive.”
Richard’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “You’ve done your research.”
“I believe in being informed about important things.”
He glances at me with something like approval flickering across his face. “She’s sharp. You should keep her around.”
“I fully intend to do exactly that.”
Bailey’s hand tightens on my arm in response.
We make our way through the crowd together. I introduce her to investors, board members, and business partners. She’s great witheach one of them, asking intelligent questions and making genuine connections.
I watch her charm a venture capitalist who notoriously hates everyone and laugh at a CEO’s terrible joke in a way that’s kind without being condescending. I watch her defuse an awkward moment when someone asks how we met with a perfectly crafted story about running into each other at a coffee shop.
The lie comes easily. It comes too easily.
“You’re good at this,” I murmur when we have a moment alone.
