Chapter 9
RENéE
Nothing wrong with a little vanity if it is true, right? And truth be told, I was looking downright smoking. I studied my reflection, appreciating how the red gown clung in all the right places. Javier was probably going to choke on his own ego when he saw me. Good. He deserved a little humbling.
I glanced at the clock. Only ten minutes late. Let him stew. After everything he’d put me through, this was the least he could do. I grabbed my clutch, jabbing the elevator button impatiently with a sigh.
The doors slid open, and I strode out, still slipping on my other earring as I made my way to the lobby. And there he was by the entrance, dressed to kill in a tailored black tuxedo that hugged his frame a little too perfectly. Great. Of course, he looked that good.
“Did you wait long?” I said, not bothering with a hello.
Javier ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, instantly undoing it, and his gray eyes locked on me with that infuriating, intense gaze of his. He didn’t even bother hiding it. He scanned me from head to toe, his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smirk. Just don’t—
“Wow, you actually dressed up,” I muttered.
“Nice of you to notice,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, eyes still on me. “You look… very red.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the insight, Sherlock.”
Without another word, we slipped into the Uber waiting outside. The tension simmered between us in the silence, thick enough to cut, but I couldn’t resist sneaking glances at him. He looked more brooding than usual, eyes flicking to his watch every few minutes as if counting down the seconds until he could escape that night. I bit back a smirk—good, let him suffer.
When we arrived at the Grand Hotel, its lights twinkling against the night like a galaxy of stars, I felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves. Javier handed our invitations to the guard at the door, and we were waved through, stepping into the grand ballroom.
Inside, the place was a glittering world of elegance. Women in gowns and men in suits mingled to the tune of soft music, the air filled with laughter and clinking glasses. I scanned the crowd, spotting Mr. Kim and his assistant, Stella, near the stage.
“You look miserable. You think you’ll be fine?” Not that I care.
Javier’s lips twitched in what might’ve been a smile. “As long as you don’t make me dance.”
“No promises,” I shot back, tugging him forward with a wicked grin.
“There they are!” I announced as we reached Mr. Kim. Javier trailed after me, his face darkening with every step, but he wouldn’t leave me to fend off these people alone. He knew this was business—he was just too good at hiding how much he hated it.
“Renée! Javier!” Mr. Kim greeted us with a warm handshake. “So glad you could make it.”
Javier’s smile was as polished as ever, but his eyes held that razor-sharp focus. “Thank you for the invitation. Quite the event,” he said, managing to sound polite yet utterly detached.
I shook Mr. Kim’s hand with a polite nod. “It’s lovely.”
Mr. Kim chuckled, looking between us. “You two make quite the team. I have a feeling we’ll be doing great business together.”
Oh, if only he knew. Javier and I, a team? That was probably the funniest thing I’d heard all week.
Beside Mr. Kim stood his assistant, Stella, giving us a sharp nod, her gaze moving over us like she was sizing us up. She was gorgeous—golden hair, emerald eyes, and a silver gown that shimmered under the lights. I forced a polite smile as she shook my hand, but something in her expression rubbed me the wrong way.
“Hello,” Stella greeted with a sweet smile. “I’m so glad you both could make it.”
“Likewise,” I replied, noting how her attention slid to Javier with a hint of too much warmth.
Javier gave her a polite nod, his gaze unreadable. “Pleasure.”
“Drinks?” Stella offered, holding out a glass to Javier with a soft smile before sipping her own.
I raised an eyebrow.
Before I could open my mouth, Mr. Kim interrupted. “Come, let me introduce you to some other guests.”
Soon enough, we were swept into a sea of people near the bar, exchanging small talk and handing out business cards. I noticed with amusement how Javier’s patience was wearing thin. He kept glancing at his watch, clearly wishing he could bolt. I bit back a smirk. Let him stew.
Yet, I couldn’t ignore Stella, hovering around Javier like a shadow, her hand brushing his arm just a bit too often. What bothered me most? Javier didn’t seem to mind. Annoyance flared, mingling with something uncomfortably close to jealousy, but I pushed it aside. Why did I even care?
Shaking it off, I threw myself into networking, surprising myself by actually having decent conversations with a few potential clients. Imagine that—actually getting work done at a gala.
Then I ran into Mr. Luther, one of our newest clients. Salt-and-pepper hair, brown suit, yellow tie—he looked suave, even if he was older than I’d expected. He complimented my dress, and before I could sidestep his attention, he invited me to dance. For business’s sake, I accepted, but the moment his hand rested on my waist, I regretted it.
On the dance floor, Luther’s grip tightened, pulling me closer than necessary. His breath brushed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine—not the good kind.
“You’re very beautiful, Renée,” he murmured.
“Thank you,” I replied, trying to create some space. But he didn’t let up.
“I’m thrilled we’re working together. Your creativity is truly impressive.”
“I appreciate that,” I said, my voice tight, as his hand slid lower on my back. My skin crawled. Was causing a scene worth it?
“You know,” he whispered, his lips dangerously close to my ear, “we have so much in common.”
“How so?” I asked, forcing my voice to stay calm.
“We both appreciate beauty,” he murmured, his fingers hovering uncomfortably low.
Enough. I pushed him back. “Mr. Luther, that’s enough.”
Luther’s expression darkened, his grip tightening. “Don’t be shy. I know you want this.”
My temper flared. “I don’t know what you think, but I don’t want any of this. Let go of me before I cause a scene.”
I scanned the room for help and my eyes landed on Javier. He was still by the bar, but his gaze was locked on me, and he looked furious.
I watched as Javier pushed past Stella and strode across the ballroom. In moments, he was beside me, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder.
“Excuse me, Mr. Luther,” he said, his voice like ice. He peeled Luther’s hand off me with an ease that was both graceful and lethal. “Mind if I steal a dance with her?”