Page 49
Meanwhile, she stayed in New York, but went on a date.
Both Sierra and Colt texted me this morning, asking whether Selene wasn’t supposed to be working with me.
Yes.
She was.
I didn’t bother asking Colt since when he started following celebrity gossip. It was obvious they were all together when the pictures resurfaced and someone recognized the woman beside that man.
As if that weren’t enough to ruin my mood, now I’m on my way to that damn gala after somehow agreeing to attend.
My mother called and asked me to represent everyone. My brothers are in London, and my parents are traveling with the Hardys outside New York.
Honestly, I had been counting on one of them going instead.
Apparently, I drew the short straw this year.
The car rolls to a stop.
The driver hurries to open my door, and I climb out wearing the same practiced smile I reserve for events like this.
I don’t stop for photographs.
I don’t answer questions.
I walk straight past the reporters and into the ballroom.
Two hours. That’s all I’ll give this place, then I’ll head back to the hotel and sleep.
“Zayn Thomas. What an honor to have you here tonight.”
One of the many businessmen desperately trying to secure a partnership with Hartho approaches with a smile so fake it borders on offensive.
His wife is on his arm.
A woman I slept with years ago, not knowing she was married.
I don’t acknowledge her, my attention staying on him.
“Virgil,” I say, shaking his hand.
“Where is everyone else?” he asks.
“They’re busy in London,” I answer evenly. “I just happened to be in New York.”
He laughs and slips an arm more possessively around his wife’s waist.
“Right. I heard you’re overseeing the casinos and clubs constructions.”
The slight curl of his lip tells me exactly what he thinks of those projects.
I simply hold his gaze.
“We’re working on something similar ourselves,” he continues, then kisses the top of his wife’s head.
She responds with an airy laugh, her eyes lingering on me far longer than they should.
“Ladies and gentlemen…”
