And then—ivory silk, catching the light like a summons.
Across the room, the woman from the red carpet turns toward us, laughter spilling from her like champagne. Her golden hair gleams under the chandeliers, pinned in a perfect chignon. When her gaze lands on Nathaniel, her smile changes—slow, knowing, intimate. A look that belongs to a shared history.
However, Nathaniel’s expression barely shifts. He offers her a single nod, nothing more. But the restraint is telling. Whatever is between them, he’s choosing not to go there—and that choice burns hotter than curiosity alone would.
She glides toward us, perfume preceding her—white florals, applied too liberally.
“Nathaniel Caldwell,” she purrs, her tone silk over steel. “You vanish for months, and not a single call when you’re finally back in New York? I was beginning to think you’d forgotten me.” Her smile tilts, the perfect mixture of tease and threat. “Despite my hectic schedule, I’dalwaysmake time for you.”
The sweetness settles on me like sugar on salt, all contrast and sting. My fingers tighten around my clutch.
Nathaniel doesn’t take the bait. “Olivia, this is Anne Vanderhoof. Anne, Olivia Bennett, my girlfriend.”
The word hangs in the air.Girlfriend.A declaration, a line drawn. He slides his arm around my waist as he says it—protective, possessive.
Anne’s composure wavers for half a breath before she recovers, smile polished to a shine. “Ah. Of course. The girlfriend. How lovely to finally meet you.” Her eyes flick toward Nathaniel. “I’m intimately familiar with the Caldwells’…hospitality.”
Her delivery is flawless. The subtext isn’t.
A heavy hand claps down on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Nathaniel, my boy! Good to finally see you again.”
The voice booms like it owns the air. The man attached to it is broad and silvering, his grin too wide to be genuine. The resemblance to Anne is unmistakable—the same pale eyes, the same confidence that reads as entitlement.
“We’ve missed you at the club,” he adds with a laugh. “Charles and I keep saying we should drag you out for a game one of these weekends, eh?”
Anne slips her hand around his forearm, smiling up at him sweetly. “Daddy, Nathaniel’s here with hisgirlfriendtonight. Isn’t that nice?” The word drips like honey over poison.
Richard Vanderhoof’s smile tightens. A flicker of something—disapproval, curiosity—passes behind his eyes before he masks it with charm.
Nathaniel’s tone stays even. “Indeed, Uncle Richard. This is my girlfriend, Olivia Bennett. Olivia, this is Richard Vanderhoof, A close friend of my parents.”
Richard’s gaze slides to me, assessing. “Ah yes. Thegirlfriend. Well…” A beat. “You’re certainly not what I expected.”
I meet his eyes, steady. “It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Vanderhoof.”
He chuckles, a sound meant to patronize. “So, Olivia, you’re at Halford with Nathaniel, yes? I imagine it must be…intimidating. He’s always been a few steps ahead of everyone else.”
“It keeps me sharp,” I answer lightly. “I’ve learned to keep up with him—though I can’t say it’s easy. Nathaniel doesn’t exactly do anything halfway.”
The remark lands softly, flattering and precise.
Richard’s mouth curves. “No, I don’t suppose he does. Still, not everyone’s built for that tempo. Especially when you don’t come from…our kind of upbringing.”
I smile, unbothered. “You’re right. I didn’t grow up with it. But I think perspective is its own kind of inheritance. It teaches you how tobuildrather than simply take.”
Charles, a few paces away, glances over.
Richard’s smile thins. “Build, hmm? And what exactly are you planning tobuild, Ms. Bennett?”
“Something that lasts,” I reply after a meaningful pause. “At Halford, Nathaniel and I are developing a capstone project—an investment model for sustainable philanthropy. The idea is to help established funds stay profitable while expanding access.”
He raises a brow condescendingly. “A noble ambition. Though it’s easy to be idealistic in theory. The real world tends to chew through dreamers rather quickly.”
I hold his gaze, my voice low and steady. “Then I’ll just have to make sure I’m the exception.”
Silence follows, so acute that the next note of the violin upstairs cuts straight through it.
Anne’s smile stiffens, her nails grazing the rim of her flute as if she’s trying not to chip the crystal. “Well, Nathaniel,” she remarks, “it seems you’ve found someone with a lot of opinions.”
