Chapter 44
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHLOE
“ W e’re seeing a reversal of the inflammation, so I’d say the new treatment is working,” Dr. Clarke says, looking at us over the top of his glasses.
With a wide smile, Dad lifts his hands and spreads his fingers. The move is easier than it’s been in a long time, and his knuckles are less swollen.
“I’ll be able to hold a paintbrush again soon.”
The doctor nods. “Take it slow at first. Go too hard, and the inflammation will flare up again.”
My face hurts from all the smiling I’ve done since we arrived. “I’ll make sure he eases into it.”
Dr. Clarke nods. “You’re a good daughter, Chloe.” He looks back down at his notes. “We’ll have you come back in about six months for another infusion, but we’ll continue with our regular checkups until then to monitor your progress. If the improvements continue, we’ll stick with twice-yearly maintenance infusions.” He looks at us both. “Does that sound good?”
After agreeing, I help Dad out of his seat, which takes less effort that it used to now that he can move a little easier by himself. We meet Carol outside. She insisted on driving us, even though it’s a Saturday. We’ve all gotten into a bit of a routine, and more often than not, Carol stays late at least once during the week and overnight on Saturdays.
I feel guilty imposing on her so much, but she assures me constantly that she’s happy to do it. On Sundays when I get home from Roman’s place, she and I often have a coffee and chat. I get the feeling she’s lonely without her daughters around, and I like talking to her. We’re developing the kind of relationship I imagine I would have had with my mother if she’d stuck around.
On the way back home, Dad’s excitement about the possibility of painting again soon is infectious.
“So should we head to the art shop next week?” Carol asks.
“Maybe don’t go overboard with stocking up on paint and canvases just yet,” I say. “Perhaps you can start with some rough sketches, Dad?”
He nods thoughtfully. “Those thick charcoals would probably be a little easier to grip.”
“Why don’t we pick up some supplies on Monday, then?” Carol asks. “And we could go see that new movie you were talking about afterward if you’re not too sore.”
“That sounds good,” he says, his voice gruff. “I’ll buy the popcorn.”
I roll my lips together at the sight of him. His cheeks have gone pink. Anyone would think he’s just been asked out on a date.
But tonight, I’m the one going out. Though not on a date. Tonight I’m headed to the King Group’s annual charity gala, and I’m both nervous and excited. I’ve never attended an event like this, and I can’t help but worry that I won’t be able to hide my feelings for Roman. It’s hard to keep my eyes off him at the best of times, let alone when he’ll be wearing a tuxedo and looking beyond gorgeous.
Sophie and I are riding in together, which eases my nerves a little. I wish I could tell her the truth about Roman and me. But as close as she and I have become, I can’t betray his trust by spilling our secret to someone who works for the King Group.
When we get back home, I start the process of readying myself for tonight. It may be a little early, but I want to take my time, and that starts with a long shower, intensive de-fluffing, and a shampoo and blow out.
Then I apply my makeup, going with smoky eyeshadow and a soft blush-toned lipstick.
Only then do I go to my closet and pull out the box Roman presented me with the weekend after I told him I’d RSVP’d to the gala. He wouldn’t tell me where he’d gotten it from, or how he knew my exact size. He just gave me a slow, sexy smile and told me that I didn’t have to wear it if I didn’t want to, but he was already imagining stripping it off me.
Naturally, I assured him that I very much wanted to wear it.
Like the first time I opened the box, I lose my breath when I remove the lid and hold the dress up.
The silky material spills down to the floor in a sweep of deep emerald. The long slit that runs up the side of the A-line skirt cuts all the way up to the middle of my thigh.
I carefully step into it and slip my arms through the delicate straps that cross over my lower back, leaving it mostly exposed. Because of that, I’m not wearing a bra, but luckily the front has enough structure to allow it.
I slide on the strappy silver heels that were tucked into the box as well, then stand in front of the mirror, taking myself in.
I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.
I can’t help but wonder what Roman will think when he sees me. If he really will spend all night imagining getting me out of it.
Anticipation has my pulse quickening and heat licking through my veins.
I take a steadying breath and check my watch. With one last look at myself, I grab my clutch and go out to wait for Sophie.
In the living room, Carol fawns over me, and my dad’s eyes gloss over a little. Since I’m going to wait for Sophie outside, I bend to give him a kiss on the cheek, then give Carol a quick hug.
“Have fun tonight,” she whispers, giving me a wink. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
I can’t help but smile. They know I’m staying at my boyfriend’s place after the gala tonight. They just don’t know my boyfriend is the one hosting it. Over the course of the last few weeks, I’ve left a few changes of clothes and toiletries at Roman’s apartment, so there’s no need to pack a bag.
I’ve only been waiting out front for a minute when a dark car pulls up and the back window lowers, revealing Sophie, who waves excitedly. “You look stunning,” she says as I slip in beside her. “When you said you didn’t need to buy a dress, I didn’t realize it was because you already owned something like this. Who’s your secret sugar daddy and does he have a brother?”
She laughs at her own joke, and I do my best to join in, even as guilt swirls in my stomach. What will she think when she finds out? What will Roman’s brothers think? The other employees of the King Group? That I’m a gold digger? That I’m like Katherine, just out to get a ring from any rich man who offers?
My heart sinks. I haven’t put any thought into that issue until now. I’ve been too busy worrying about the risk to my job and what it could mean for Dad and me to think about the personal implications.
I let out a slow breath. I don’t want to dwell on that tonight. Not when I’m about to have a fun night out with my friend.
“Your dress is gorgeous too,” I tell Sophie. “The red looks incredible on you.”
“Oh, this old thing?” She grins as she smooths her hands over the silk chiffon. “I found it on sale a while ago, and I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to wear it.”
The driver heads toward the King International Hotel where the gala is being held, navigating through traffic with ease. To distract myself from my nerves, I ask Sophie to tell me more about what to expect tonight.
She fills me in on her experience at previous galas, and before I know it, we’ve pulled up outside the hotel where a red carpet has been rolled out and people are milling around, holding cameras. I frown in confusion as I take them in. From what I can tell, they’re not taking photographs of the people walking inside.
“The real VIPs won’t come until later,” Sophie says, as if she can read my mind. “The photographers are just getting into position, but they’re not really interested in little old you and me.”
“Makes sense.”
That means Roman won’t be here yet. Knowing that eases the butterflies. I can check the place out, get comfortable, and maybe have a glass of champagne before he and his family arrive.
It doesn’t take long to make our way inside. From the top of the stairs, I have the perfect view of the hotel’s grand ballroom, which is aglow with chandeliers reflecting warmly off all the crystal and marble.
I hold my dress up carefully as we descend, not wanting to punctuate my grand entrance by tumbling down the stairs.
Once we’ve made it safely to the ballroom floor, Sophie leads me straight to the bar, and we both order champagne. Then we stand back and I take a good look around.
This year’s gala aims to raise funds for urban renewal projects that focus on revitalizing underdeveloped neighborhoods and supporting local arts and education programs within the city.
One end of the huge room is filled with tables, all with delicately sculpted metal centerpieces made to look like urban buildings, with plants and flowers spilling out from the rooftops—a nod to the green roofs that the King Group now incorporates in many of its developments.
At the other end of the room, a wall has been set up to display digital art installations, many of which feature images of urban landscapes and some of the King Group’s projects morphing from blueprints to finished buildings.
Sophie and I wander to the auction table first and survey the items that guests will bid on later. Many, many of them are eye-wateringly expensive: a private island getaway in the Maldives, an all-inclusive expedition to Antarctica aboard a luxury vessel, a private dinner cooked by a celebrity chef, and a zero-gravity flight experience. There’s even a day at a racetrack, complete with time behind the wheel of the world’s fastest supercars. I can’t even imagine how much these kinds of experiences will go for.
Then there’s the memorabilia. Signed items from celebrities, including an electric guitar signed by Tex McLain, famed lead guitarist of the band Fractured, and a script signed by A-list actor Declan Monroe.
My favorite items are the original artworks—paintings and sculptures by both renowned and emerging artists from across the city. It’s impossible not to picture one of Dad’s paintings hanging here, fitting in beautifully with the others.
Maybe one day.
While we’ve been browsing, the room has been slowly filling. The crowd is a mix of King Group executives, celebrities, politicians, and well-known philanthropists. Scattered among them are several other King Group employees. Samson, Cole’s assistant, is here with his girlfriend. We stop and chat with them for a while. A few more people I recognize from around the building join us, and soon, a little group of us has formed near where the trays of finger food are being brought out.
Despite the lively conversation around me, I’m on high alert, waiting for my first glimpse of Roman.
I sense him before seeing him. Maybe awareness of his arrival has been transmitted through the crowd—he is the CEO of tonight’s hosting organization after all—or maybe my body has somehow attuned itself to his. Either way, when I steal a glimpse over my shoulder, his wolf-gray eyes are fixed on me.
Even from across the room, the intensity of his stare draws me in, as if for the briefest of moments, the people around us cease to exist.
Then his brothers join him and guests approach, hands stretched out to shake theirs. When our connection is broken, I turn back around, hoping no one caught me staring at my boss like a lovesick teenager.
No such luck. Sophie bumps me with her elbow and waggles her brows as she mouths exploding panties . A laugh escapes before I can stop it. It’s true. And the vision of Roman in a tuxedo is burned into my brain. Black jacket stretching across wide shoulders, making him look even taller and broader than usual. Crisp white shirt molding to his chiseled chest. Black bow tie perfectly affixed around the base of his throat.
It’s almost hard to believe that I’m going home with him tonight. Until then, I have to focus on not staring at him and panting.
It’s more challenging than it should be.
The two of us spend the next forty-five minutes circling each other. Every few minutes, our eyes meet. No matter who we’re talking to, our gazes are pulled together like magnets.
Every time it happens, we have to turn away as if there’s nothing between us.
It burns more than I expected it to.
“Chloe?”
I turn away from the digital art display I’m studying and find Tate’s fiancée, Violet, standing close, along with a beautiful dark-haired woman I haven’t met.
“Oh, hi!” I greet her. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”
“You too.” With a warm smile, she loops her arm through the other woman’s. “This is Delilah. She’s an architect who’s done some incredible work for the King Group. Oh, and she’s also Cole’s wife.”
She says it as if Delilah’s status in relation to the King Group’s COO is an afterthought.
Delilah laughs good-naturedly in response, as if this isn’t the first time Violet’s introduced her this way.
A sense of ease settles over me. These women may be the partners of two of the most powerful men in the city, but they’re so down-to-earth, I immediately feel comfortable. “Congratulations on your baby. She’s adorable.”
Her lips curve up, green eyes shining. “Thank you. She’s a sweetheart, but she likes to make her opinions known, even at this age.”
“That sounds like a trait that will do her a lot of good when she’s older.”
She nods. “Absolutely. I just wish her current opinions didn’t include that diaper changes require maximum wriggling and screaming, or that naps are optional.”
Sophie bounces up at that moment to join us. She hands me another glass of champagne, then hugs Violet and Delilah. “You both look gorgeous. Not that I would expect anything less.”
“Are you having a good night?” Delilah asks me. Maybe I’m paranoid, but it feels as if she’s studying me a little too intently.
“It’s been wonderful so far. I’m looking forward to the rest of it.”
“Your dress is beautiful,” she says.
“Thank you.” I sweep my hands self-consciously down my skirt, as if she might be able to tell just from looking at it that her brother-in-law bought it for me.
Just then, a rush of tingles up my back causes me to inhale sharply.
Roman .