I check my phone one last time before we head out. No messages from Grant. Whatever happens tonight, I'll have to handle it the way I handle everything else in this industry—with a smile and an Oscar-worthy performance from someone who isn't falling for someone she isn't supposed to.
thirty
. . .
Grant
"Vanity Fair'shere,along withThe Hollywood ReporterandVariety," Lucas murmurs, somehow scanning the room while appearing completely focused on our conversation. "Deadlineis still asking about the reshoot schedule from your little stunt at the wrap party."
The annual Teddy Bear Gala has transformed this industrial warehouse into a whimsical dreamland that walks the line between childlike wonder and black-tie sophistication. Oversized paper lanterns float beneath the exposed beams like luminous clouds while strings of twinkling lights weave between towering sculptures made entirely of teddy bears.
The wait staff glides through the growing crowd with champagne flutes garnished with cotton candy wisps. Wyatt and Jake maneuver around them to join us.
"Gentlemen." I adjust my bowtie as they grab glasses from the tray. "How's the planning going for the Manmorial Weekend?"
"Jake's set us up at this incredible villa," Wyatt says,clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Private beach, personal chef, the works."
"The chef's wasted on you," Jake snorts, nodding to Wyatt as he throws back his glass of champagne. "Last time we went anywhere, you survived on protein bars and spite."
"Some of us appreciate the finer things," I say, thinking of how much I've enjoyed cooking with Sophia lately. A smile tugs at my lips before I can school my expression.
Jake's eyebrow ticks up with keen interest, but he keeps his observations to himself. Wyatt's too busy watching the entrance for Blair to notice my comment.
"Speaking of food," Jake says, "Lauren's been obsessing over this caterer for weeks. He's some hotshot that was featured onReal Housewives of Beverly Hills. Says they better not screw up the salmon the wives rave about, or heads will roll."
I catch Wyatt rolling his eyes as Jake diverts his attention to the entrance—I suspect to watch for the aforementioned Lauren.
Lucas takes a sip of his drink and then pulls me aside. "When Geneva arrives, introduce her to Sophia immediately. It'll look weird if you don't, given she's staying at your place and helping with Hazel. Keeping things natural is our best…"
The words fade into background noise as Sophia enters the room in a midnight blue dress that seems to have been poured over her body. Her skin shimmers like moonlight against a dark sky. Her hair is down tonight in loose, natural curls that cascade like a seductive waterfall. It's swept dramatically to one side and held in place by a delicatediamond pin that catches the light with every subtle movement.
I can't look away. It's impossible.
She's mesmerizing—not just beautiful, but alive. Her eyes spark with an infectious joy, taking in the room with a curiosity that makes her more radiant than any perfectly poised socialite. When she smiles, it's genuine—reaching her eyes, lighting up her entire face. She's turning heads without even trying, completely unaware of the effect she's having on everyone around her.
I force myself to look away, to remember where we are. Who we are. But God, it's the hardest thing I've done all year.
"Grant?" Lucas is watching me too carefully. "Did you hear what I said about introducing Sophia and Geneva?"
"Yeah, of course." I haven't heard a word because Sophia's making her way toward us and I have to remember how to act like I don't get to see her naked, like I don't know exactly how she looks underneath me, how my name sounds on her lips.
"Mr. Hall," she says formally, making my dick twitch. "Lucas. Beautiful event."
"Ms. Ford," I manage to reply with what I hope is an appropriately professional smile. "We're all looking forward to your speech tonight."
There's so much I want to say—about how stunning she looks, about how much I've missed her today, about Geneva. But we're surrounded by people, the press, and the pressure to maintain appearances.
"Grant!"
Geneva's voice carries across the room, and heads turn. They always do. She's wearing something silver andflowing, and the flashbulbs start immediately as she makes her way to us.
"There's my favorite ex," she says, pulling me into a hug. "And you must be Sophia! I've heard so much about you from Hazel."
I watch Sophia's face carefully as Geneva pulls her into a hug and see the slight tension in her smile as more cameras turn our way.
"Is this a Grant-Geneva reunion?" Lauren calls out. "Give us a pose, just like old times!"
I might understand Wyatt's disdain for Lauren a little more. Of all the things to say.
