Ellen sighs. "How romantic. Richard never swept me anywhere. I had to practically drag him to the altar."
Laughter ripples around the table. Richard rolls his eyes good-naturedly. Jade smiles, and it's so convincing that even I almost believe she means it.
Almost.
Dinner is served. Wagyu beef, truffle risotto, wine that costs more per bottle than some people earn in a week. The conversation flows easily. We talk about market trends, vacation properties, and the tedious social calendar of the wealthy. Jadeholds her own, engaging the wives with questions about their children and charity work, deflecting attention from herself with graceful precision.
She's perfect.
It’s all too perfect. But I push the thought away.
Marcus's phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and frowns. "Excuse me—I need to take this." He's already pushing back from the table, phone pressed to his ear as he slips toward the hallway.
I watch him go, mildly irritated. We're in the middle of the most important dinner of our career and he's taking calls.
But the conversation continues smoothly without him. Richard Teo asks about my projections for next quarter. Ellen wants to know where Jade got her dress. Everything is flowing exactly as planned.
I let myself relax into my chair, my hand resting possessively on Jade's thigh beneath the table. The silk is warm now, heated by her body. She doesn't flinch at my touch. Doesn't acknowledge it at all.
Six months of work. Countless meetings. Endless negotiations. And it's all coming together because these people finally see what they need to see: Phoenix Crawford, stable and settled, with a stunning woman by his side.
The deal is going to close.
I can feel it.
Jade sets down her napkin and rises gracefully. "If you'll excuse me for a moment."
I watch her go, my eyes tracing the sway of her hips, the way the emerald silk catches the light with each step. Several of the men watch her too. I let them. Let them look and want and know they'll never have her.
She disappears down the hallway toward the restrooms, the same direction Marcus went.
"She's exquisite," Ellen Teo says, following my gaze. "Wherever did you find her?"
"She found me," I say smoothly. "I just had the good sense to hold on."
"Smart man." Richard raises his glass. "To smart men and the women who tolerate us."
Everyone drinks. I count the minutes until Jade returns.
Five minutes.
Marcus reappears first, sliding back into his seat with a satisfied expression. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"
Ten minutes.
I'm about to excuse myself to check on her when she reappears at the end of the hallway.
She stands there for a moment, framed by the dim lighting, her expression perfectly composed. But something is different. Something in the way she holds herself—straighter, sharper, like a blade being unsheathed.
Then she walks back to the table.
21
JADE
The restroom is down a long hallway, past a series of abstract paintings that probably cost more than my entire year's salary at the coffee shop. I take my time, grateful for a moment away from the table and away from Phoenix's possessive hand on my thigh.
Because that's what this is, isn't it? A performance.
