19. Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Harvey
“She’s done a great job.” Oliver smirks.
“She has.” My eyes scan the crowd. The room is full of people admiring the paintings and sculptures, and a large group dances to the band.
“Why the fuck is she talking to Liam?” Oliver’s voice turns icy.
I straighten and follow his gaze across the room. Liam is blocking Jemima, but I can see the edge of a blue strapless dress peeking out from behind him. The dress fits her perfectly, clinging to her every shape and catching the light in a way that makes her look beautiful. It’s a simple shade of blue, but it makes her skin glow. Her hair is pulled back into a neat bun, showing off her slender neck, and I can’t help but want to kiss it. When I notice his hand is on the spot I touched earlier, I freeze, trying to read her face.
I can’t tell if she’s uncomfortable, but Oliver’s competition, Liam, is known for being ruthless. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants, including people.
“No fucking idea,” I growl, striding over to them.
Jemima’s eyes widen as she spots me. I edge myself between them, forcing Liam to drop his hand. My blood boils at seeing him touch her.
“Liam,” I mumble in greeting.
“Harvey, long time no see.” Liam smirks.
“It hasn’t been that long, has it?”
“We always catch up at Oliver’s events. Maybe next time we could talk over lunch.”
“Sure, call Esme, and she can make room in my calendar,” I add, knowing that I won't approve that schedule.
“Maybe Jemima would like to join us? She tells me she planned all of this for Oliver.”
“She’s amazing,” I say, shifting my gaze to Jemima. There’s warmth in her eyes as she gives me a small, soft smile.
My hand moves to her back, feeling a tremor run through her. “Let’s go get you a well-deserved drink.”
“Sure,” she says with a small smile.
“I offered,” Liam says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Sorry, I changed my mind,” she says, her tone polite but businesslike. She’s keeping it professional, even though it’s clear she’s not keen on Liam.
“I’ll call you about my gallery events,” he says, still pressing.
She glances quickly at me before turning back to him, offering a tight but genuine smile. “Of course, I look forward to hearing from you.”
As she walks away, my hand drops from her lower back, but I follow close behind, giving Liam a quick nod as I say goodbye. Once we’re out of earshot, she slows her pace so I can catch up. “Is he a friend of yours?”
“No. He’s Oliver’s competitor,” I say, shaking my head slightly.
“Makes sense.”
My brow furrows. “What happened?”
“He found me fixing the flowers that had been damaged and started asking a lot of questions about Oliver and the gallery.”
We arrive at the bar, and I order two glasses of wine, handing her one.
“He wants to run Oliver out of business,” I say, my voice low as I take a sip of mine.
“Then I won’t work with him,” she replies firmly, her eyes narrowing.
I shake my head. “Do what you need to do for your business. Oliver can handle him.”
“I’d rather work with Oliver than him,” she says with a shrug, her gaze drifting to the floor for a moment.
“You like Oliver, then,” I murmur as a knowing smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.
“Number one fan,” she responds, her tone light.
A server interrupts, wanting to talk to Jemima. I’m surprised when she turns and says, “I’ve got to go and check on things.”
She gives me her wine, and I stand there, holding two full glasses.
“Son, I’d say they're both yours, but judging by the red lip mark on one, I’d guess you’re holding it for a lady?”
My dad stands there, holding his champagne flute, his posture stiff as he watches me. His eyebrows are pinched in concern, and there's a slight tension in his shoulders, like he’s bracing for something.
“Did you just arrive?” I ask, scanning the room for my mom and brothers, the words slipping out as I keep my focus on the crowd.
“Yeah. They’re talking to Oliver.” His eyes shift to the distance briefly before returning to me, his voice lowering a bit. “I saw you alone and wanted to check in on how you’re doing at Recaredo Events?”
“It’s good.”
I take a breath, trying to stay calm. Tonight is not the time to tell him that one of her long-term employees has a drug addiction. He was embezzling money, and that’s why it hasn’t been profitable.
She’s got enough to deal with without wondering how Danny’s desk magically cleared out. People like him don’t leave quietly… well, unless someone gives them a reason to. This is better for her. Cleaner. She deserves to focus on what’s in front of her, not the mess behind it. If that means I carry the weight of it alone, fine. Some things she doesn’t need to know.
His eyes move around the room, taking in the event. “She’s done a sensational job. I’ve never seen live art, a photo booth, or a red carpet at an event like this.”
I glance at him, my voice tinged with admiration. “Can you believe she pulled it off in just a few days?”
His eyebrows raise in surprise. “And she’s never worked in event planning before?” Dad asks, his tone laced with disbelief.
“No, she worked at Macy’s before her position was laid off."
He nods thoughtfully as his lips curl into a small smile. “She’s detailed and organized.”
Her paperwork pops into my mind. Her office… I shake the thought away, focusing back on my dad.
“What’s the plan when you leave? Will you hire more staff?”
The thought of leaving makes my chest tighten, but I keep my voice steady. “It’s just her and the receptionist.”
His gaze sharpens, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “And you.”
“She has great casual staff, but if she picks up more work, she’ll need to hire more. We need to move forward with that over the next few weeks.”
I feel a sense of pride as I think about Jemima. She’s so talented, naturally too. I want someone who can take the load of the day-to-day tasks off her so she can concentrate on running and growing the business.
“And how’s your business? Is it managing without you?”
I pause with a slight shrug. “I’ve gone back to the office for a few meetings. I book them for late afternoons or early mornings so I can work around Jemima’s schedule.”
His lips twist into a proud smile, and I feel a rush of satisfaction. It’s what I’ve been craving . Recognition.
“And how’s the consultation firm looking? Have you started planning?”
I take a breath, firm in my decision. “The inheritance is going toward buying the building next door.”
His eyes narrow slightly, a warning in his voice. “I hope you don’t spend too much.”
“I’ve reviewed the comps in the area with the realtor and it’s a solid investment.”
He pauses for a moment, then asks, “Are you learning much from being with Jemima?”
How lucky I am, and how grateful I am to have a supportive family and friends.
“Definitely. Starting from below zero is tough.”
“You know you can’t keep helping her with your connections. Part of the journey is her learning to hustle and scout her own work.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. “I know. I just introduced her to Oliver. She did the rest. I haven’t intervened.”
Jeremy, Mom, and Evan come over.
“Where’s Grams?” I ask, worried she’s declined, and no one’s told me.
“It’s too late of a night for her,” Dad says.
“And she’d be on her feet all night,” Mom adds as she kisses my cheek hello.
I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s okay. I’ll see her for Sunday dinner anyway. We’re having chili.
“And probably too loud,” I add as the band suddenly gets louder.
“Too fucking loud,” Evan grumbles, moving away.
“Hey, grumpy. Grab me a drink while you’re there,” Jeremy adds smartly.
Evan glares at him. If looks could kill, Jeremy would be instantly dead.
Jeremy laughs, and I shake my head.
I stand to the side of the bar, sipping my drink, watching people dance to the DJ. The band just finished, and the mood shifts immediately as the dance music starts. Accent lights are sprinkled across the ceiling, which only adds to the ambiance. Her attention to detail is incredible.
My gaze meets Jemima’s dark eyes, perfectly set on a heart-shaped face. She’s watching the dancers from the edge, two outsiders looking in, wishing… I set my glass down on the bar and stride toward her, holding out my hand.
“What are you doing?” she whispers, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion.
“Offering to dance with you,” I reply with a flirty grin and step closer.
“I can’t,” she says shakily, turning away. I follow her across the room to a corner, where a painting of a large pink peony against a dark purple background hangs. She stands facing it, admiring the piece.
“It would be nice to be anonymous.” She finally breaks the silence.
“Why?” I can’t imagine her hidden; she stands out in every room to me.
“An easier life,” she says quietly, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor. I study her, noticing the subtle shift in her expression, the vulnerability she’s trying to mask.
“Nothing good in life comes easy.” My voice is firm as I meet her gaze.
“That’s what I’m holding on to,” she replies, her tone steady but with a hint of determination, her eyes not leaving mine.
"Take Oliver, for instance. He’s determined to find the artist of these paintings. It would be easier to give up and focus on artists who want to be found.”
“But there’s something so captivating about this.”
“Exactly, which is why he won’t give up, no matter the challenges or dead ends he runs into.”
I turn to face her, my hair flopping over my eyes. She gently pushes it back.
My hands twitch beside me as if they want to reach out to her, but I hold them back.
“You could’ve trimmed your hair.”
“I did.”
“So you like the piece that goes in your eye?”
I smirk, loving her sarcasm. “I love it even more when you touch it.”
Stepping closer, she asks, “Like this?” Her fingers graze my scalp, sending shivers through me. She gives a slight tug on my hair before she lets it go, and it drives me wild.
“Exactly like that,” I rasp. “Don’t stop.”
“And he begs.”
Willing to do anything for her touch, a grin pulls at my lips. Now that she’s more open to flirting with me, I’m hopeful to where this may lead. “I’d give you anything just to have your hands on me again, Jemima.”
Her eyes widen, lashes fluttering as she struggles to maintain composure. I decide not to call her out on it, not wanting to scare her away.
My eyes drop to her lips, parted and panting. When she runs her tongue over her bottom lip, I groan.
“We shouldn’t,” she says, gently pushing me back. “I’m working.”
Her warning should remind me of my goal, but it's only a kiss. “I know, but I want you,” I murmur, my hands finding her waist as I pull her back toward me.
Her eyes close as if she’s in pain.
I close the distance between us, cupping her face with both hands. As I lean in, she tilts her head back, her lips just a whisper away from mine. Her breath warms my skin, and when our mouths finally meet, the touch is electric.
“I seem to be the king of walking in at the worst times,” Oliver announces.
Sucking in a breath, she steps back and moves around me. I close my eyes, trying to cool my body and temper.
“You're not interrupting anything,” she says, clearing her throat.
I wring my hands, keeping silent.
Turning around, I see Oliver’s amused face. “Seems I did.”
“That was my most successful party ever,” Oliver gushes.
Jemima laughs. “Don’t suck up to me, Oliver.”
“I’m not.”
“Is there anything she could improve on?” I ask, knowing she needs constructive criticism to grow.
Oliver pulls out his phone and shows us the screen. We lean in together, and my nostrils flare as I inhale her perfume, my body instantly igniting with recognition and need. Messages of congratulations, praise for the band and DJ, comments about the photo booth fun, and the art. Literally everything. There are even requests for her contact details. I pull back and notice her eyes are misty.
Seeing how much this means to her hits me hard. But I don’t want her to get false hope. Businesses aren’t always sunshine and rainbows. I need to be practical and not get lost in how captivating her eyes are under the dim lights, or how the strands of hair that has fallen makes me want to reach out and touch them.
“There has to be something negative,” I say.
“Liam sent me a text saying you were getting too involved,” Oliver responds, his tone slightly apprehensive, caught off guard that I would say something like that. He studies me, trying to gauge his reaction.
My body stiffens. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Nah, look.” Oliver taps his phone until I’m reading a message saying my involvement could ruin her business.
“He’s a jerk. Don’t worry about him,” Oliver says.
“You could have messaged him back and told him to fuck off,” I reply angrily.
“Don’t let him get to you.”
“I can’t help it.”
He’s already deep inside my head, messing with me. I’m not usually the jealous type. Well, I wasn’t, but with him hitting on Jemima, it’s brought out a side of me I’ve never seen and don’t know how to handle.
Oliver walks away to see the DJ off.
“Let’s pack up so we can all get out of here,” I say.
“You don’t have to. I’m sure you have somewhere to be on a Saturday night.”
“You seem to think a lot about my life,” I say with a teasing grin.
“I was your age once.” Leaning back slightly, her arms cross as she watches me, a knowing look in her eyes.
“And what did you do?” I’m unsure I want to hear the answer, but curiosity gets the better of me.
“I was out with my friends or with my ex.”
“I’m out with my friends. Unless we aren’t friends?” I raise an eyebrow, half-joking, half-testing.
“We are,” she says with a small smile as her posture relaxes just a little.
“We even shared a drink.” I nudge her lightly, grinning.
Her expression softens as she shakes her head. “You know this is not the same thing as going out and clubbing.”
“So you would club at my age? I would’ve liked to have seen you then.”
“I was fun.” She says it with a playful wink, but there’s something almost wistful in her eyes.
“You are fun.” I smile genuinely.
She sighs deeply, looking away momentarily, a shadow of something crossing her face before she meets my eyes again.
“I don’t feel like my life is fun anymore.”
“You’re not what I thought you’d be like,” I say, studying her closely.
“No?” she asks, tilting her head, her eyes searching mine.
“No. You’re way more fun to be around. I actually enjoy your company,” I add, a little softer, hoping she can tell I mean it.
“I’ll hold you to that when we're back at work on Monday,” she replies with a smile, but I can tell there’s more to her words.
Why does Monday seem so far away? “I look forward to it.”
She bumps my shoulder. “Come on, let's tidy up and get out of here. I’m tired.”
“Okay, now the old lady comes out.”
I squat down, and she squeals. “What are you doing?”
“Give me your shoes.”
“What, no! Are you into feet or something?”
“No, silly. I’m trying to make you more comfortable,” I say, a laugh escaping as she watches me lift her foot, adjusting it gently.
“You know I can take my own shoes off,” she mutters, but she lets me remove one, her hand settling on my back. I reach for the other foot, tapping on it so she lifts it. “I know you can. Figured it’s time someone looked after you.”
“This isn’t a Cinderella story.”
“I’m aware. Cinderella wasn’t a hot single mom.”
She snorts, shoving me as I stand up. We lock eyes for a moment, and something sparks between us, but she quickly shakes her head and walks off. I’m holding her shoes.
“Does this mean I keep your shoes?”
“No, I need them.” She spins back and quickly snaps them from my grasp with a giggle. Grabbing her hip, I bring her close to me. She gasps, her eyes meeting mine.
My voice low, my eyes slowly moving up and down her body, taking in every detail with a quiet appreciation. “You look incredible tonight.”
I watch her throat work on a rough swallow. “You’re not having sex with me, Harvey.”
“I never said I was.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Telling you how beautiful you are. That’s what Prince Charming does at a ball.”
A whoosh of air leaves her mouth as she pushes back and walks away, carrying her shoes. “This story has Cinderella walking away holding her own shoes.”