Kissed and Missed (Daddy Issues #2)

Chapter 22

22

HONOR

I ’ve never had this many eyes on me.

The ballroom is packed with people I’ve only ever seen on the news or on the magazine rack while waiting in line at the grocery store, and every one of them wants to talk to Julian.

He keeps his hand on the small of my back, guiding me deeper into the room, shaking hands, and making polite small talk with the assembled guests.

For someone who has organized way more bake sales and fun runs than black tie events, it’s overwhelming. With every step we take, each new hand I shake, every flash of a camera in my face, I half expect someone to frown at me and ask if I’m in the right place. They don’t, though. Nor does anyone comment on the scandal that ripped through the internet and media only a few days ago.

They treat me like I belong, like I’m a person worthy of their attention and respect, and within fifteen minutes, Julian and I have fallen into a rhythm.

“Hello Mr. and Mrs. Very Important, good to see you. I don’t believe you’ve met, Honor Vogel?”

“Oh, we certainly haven’t! Such a pleasure! We’ve heard such lovely things!”

“I’m so happy you were able to join us, Julian was telling me he hoped you would be able to make it. Be sure to write a big fat check in exchange for the ego polishing!”

Okay, I’m paraphrasing a bit, but we make a good team. The man also doesn’t leave my side for even a second, and is openly affectionate, kissing my hand, my cheek, telling me how beautiful I am, bragging to guests about how instrumental I was in making tonight happen.

It’s one hell of a Cinderella moment, and one that’s made even better when I catch sight of the very long series of numbers at the top of the heart shaped donation tracker beside the door. Holy shit.

My boss, Heidi, is manning the table beside a few of my coworkers, including Jason, who eats a cheeseburger from the vending machine every single day, and Lauren, who is always trying to get me to buy into her lip gloss side hustle.

It’s surreal that I was sitting in that conference room with them only a few days ago. So much has happened since then, and apart from a few emails, in which I promised Heidi I was assisting The Ballard Fund with anything they needed (not a lie), I’ve been totally disconnected from my pre-Julian life.

“Wow.” I let out an incredulous little laugh as I drift toward them, gazing up at the number, and leaving Julian to the very technical, computery conversation he’s having.

“Yeah,” agrees Heidi, eyeing me speculatively. “That’s not even including Ballard’s matching donations.”

Of course, he would forget to mention he was planning that.

My heart flutters. “He believes in what we’re doing. He wants to see Healthy Hearts succeed.”

“I’m guessing that’s down to you.” Heidi shifts uncomfortably, and it occurs to me that I was—technically still am—her employee, and she’s probably remembering that she was kind of a hard ass with me. Now, I’m standing here in a gown that costs more than my rent, diamonds glittering on my neck, and I have the power. Is she worried I’m looking for revenge?

“It’s down to you,” I assure her. “It’s easy to be critical of how things are done when you’re not the one trying to keep the ship afloat. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I didn’t admire the work you’ve done for Healthy Hearts, because I do.”

I glance back around at Julian, who is still standing with a group of men a little ways away, a glass of whisky in his hand, listening with an aura of vague amusement to whatever the one nearest him is saying. A king holding court.

God, I don’t know if anyone has ever worn a tux as well as this man does.

Heidi’s voice interrupts my fantasy of how much fun it’s going to be to take it off him. “So, I’m guessing we’ll need to start looking for a new event coordinator.” I turn back to offer her an apologetic smile, justifications at the ready, but Heidi waves them away. “Yeah, nobody blames you, honey. If that man had looked twice at me, I would have been a done deal, ex’s father or not.”

A done deal pretty well sums up what I was for Julian Ballard from day one. Even as I tried to logic it away and convince myself I couldn’t possibly be feeling the things I thought I was, the deal was already done.

“Besides,” Heidi continues, “you’re a leader, Honor, and leaders aren’t happy coordinating events for someone else. At least, not for long. I wish you well.”

My chest is so full as I bid her goodnight, floating back over to Julian, just as the men he’s standing with clear away. And, as if he can sense my eyes on him, he turns, his face splitting in a huge smile at the sight of me.

Done. Done. Done. I’m so done.

“The announcement is scheduled to be made when the first course is served,” I tell him when I get close enough for him to hear above the music and rumble of voices, pushing back the sleeve of his tux and tilting my head so I can check the time. T-minus five minutes.

Julian hums in acknowledgement, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Are you nervous?”

“A bit,” I admit, enjoying this brief moment of peace and intimacy. I can feel dozens of sets of eyes on us, but none of them matter. This is Valentine’s Day, and life-changing night or not, I want to steal a few seconds to enjoy the brand-new certainty that someone loves me. “Honestly, I just want to get it over with.”

My statement isn’t long, but I still practiced it about ten times this morning, five to Julian and five to myself in the mirror. By now, I could probably say it by heart, but I still shoved the folded piece of computer paper in my clutch, and double checked it was still there half a dozen times since leaving the suite.

He chuckles, kissing my temple. A camera flash goes off nearby. “I don’t blame you. The dress is incredible, by the way. I’m not sure I managed to verbalize that sentiment earlier.”

“It was implied, don’t worry,” I assure him, just as a smooth male voice sounds from behind us.

“Well, well. Fancy seeing you here, Miss Vogel.”

Julian and I both turn to find a tall, blond man waiting for our attention, his lips curved in amusement and hands resting casually in the pockets of his tux. My eyes widen in recognition. “Holden! Wow, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m just here as arm candy,” he chuckles, gesturing to a beautiful woman I vaguely recognize as a TV news anchor, who is chatting with another group at a nearby table. “Holden Ellinger. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise,” says Julian, shaking his offered hand.

“Holden is my father’s business partner,” I explain, taken off guard by seeing him here.

He nods in agreement. “He’s not here tonight?”

“He had something planned with Soph. It’s their first Valentine’s Day together, so I thought I’d better let them skip this one.”

Julian tightens his hold on my waist, clearing his throat. “We need to get to the stage, Honor.”

The nervous, fluttery feeling in my stomach intensifies. “Right. Okay. Um, nice to run into you, Holden.”

As we begin to move away, however, he calls after me, “How’s your sister?”

I pause, turning. Despite being in our lives since childhood, Holden’s interest in his friend and business partner’s children was minimal. He showed up to birthday parties, bearing a card stuffed with cash, drank whatever alcohol was available, hit on one of our friend’s moms, and went on his way.

Holden Ellinger isn’t the type of person to ask about my injured sister.

“Um.” I draw a little closer to him, glancing around to make sure we aren’t overheard. “She’s okay, getting around on crutches. They might need to go in and do another surgery next month, depending on how her physical therapy goes.”

Holden’s throat bobs as he offers me a tight, pained smile. “Of course. Give her my best.”

“Okay.” I blink, still thrown off by this interaction. “You could check in with her. She’s staying at my and Sophie’s place. Do you want the address?—”

“No,” Holden says hurriedly, his expression returning to its usual confident, amused state as he steps back. “No, that’s not necessary. Good to see you, Honor.”

He nods to Julian and turns on his heel, weaving back toward the pretty newscaster.

Huh.

“Are you ready?” asks Julian, oblivious to how strange that conversation was.

Shaking it off, I nod. “Ready,” I confirm, allowing him to guide me through the room and up a short flight of stairs into the cramped backstage area. We’re alone, and the moment the door has closed behind us, Julian backs me into the nearest wall, his thumb teasing my bottom lip.

“You’re doing so well, Valentine,” he murmurs reverently, “I’m so proud of you.”

My belly warms as I smooth my hands over his lapels. “It occurred to me that rich people are just like regular people, but with more money.”

His chest shakes with silent laughter. “Most of them, yes. There are some very large egos to contend with, but everyone is on their best behavior for these kinds of things.”

“I love you,” I tell him, loving the way his expression softens at my words. “And I’m really proud of you, too. Just for the record. I think it takes a really amazing kind of person to build what you’ve built, and then to give it away to make the world a better place.”

Out on the stage, the band’s last song is coming to a close, and I know we only have a few seconds before he has to walk out there. Julian kisses my cheek, careful to avoid my lipstick, and leans away, searching my face. I know him well enough now to be sure he’s looking for signs of reservations, any indication at all that I’m not sure.

I squeeze his hand in silent reassurance. “Go.” I lift the short speech I have written out on a folded piece of paper, smiling. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Out on the stage, the leader of the band has hurried to move the microphone stand into position and holds up a hand to silence the murmuring crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to introduce to you, the man of the moment and the reason we’re all here, Mr. Julian Ballard!”

We share one last look, he releases my hand and turns, pacing out onto the stage to thundering applause.

Left alone in the shadows, I watch him, my heart pounding just as loud as the crowd.

“Good evening,” calls Julian, staring out at the darkened ballroom, hands resting in the pockets of his tux, perfectly at ease. “I prepared a few words to say, but first I wanted to thank everyone who has donated tonight, and for all of you coming here tonight to participate in this event. Now, I believe it’s time to share some context as to why .” He clears his throat and glances over at me, still hidden in the shadows of the red velvet curtains.

My chest warms as he turns back to the cavernous room. “As I’m sure a few of you are aware, I’ve made some money.” There is a round of appreciative laughter. “And, in truth, recent years have shown me how little it matters when you have enough of it. If you can afford to pay your employees, live comfortably, and enjoy life a bit, any more is simply excess, and I have come to the conclusion that I have too much excess. Which is why I have come here tonight. This gala isn’t just me supporting a very deserving organization, it is the beginning of something much larger.”

The tension in the crowd is palpable, as hundreds of people wait for what Julian is going to say next. I know what it is, and yet I’m right there with them, holding my breath.

Out on the stage, beneath the lights, Julian smiles. “Healthy Hearts is the first of what I hope will be many nonprofit organizations to be supported by The Ballard Fund and generous donors like yourselves. Our goal is to empower and uplift small nonprofits through charitable donation, training, and access to The Ballard Corporation’s resources. By leveraging our funds and their specific expertise, we believe we can do more good and change more lives.”

The answering applause is deafening, but my heartbeat seems to be louder. It pounds in my ears, because—holy shit—I’m actually going to do this.

As the crowd’s noises of approval die away, Julian stands up straighter, his face full of unmistakable pride. “Today is Valentine’s Day, which makes it an appropriate choice to introduce all of you to the person who will be heading up The Ballard Fund. While I plan to be greatly involved, it will be her vision and heart which will carry us forward. Ladies and gentlemen, my future wife, Miss Honor Vogel.”