2. Chapter 2
ALEX
I noticed Rebecca through the transparent glass wall, walking past the door marked with a brass plaque that read Alex Carter into the large office, and I knew it meant duty. After three years of working as a secretary, she looked like shed always met a ghost here.
The office of the CEO of Sterling Health boasted minimalist decor with sleek neutral tones and clean lines, a dark wood executive desk, and a polished marble floor embracing the natural light from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Could it be me? Of course, it is.
Can you shut those blinds? I snapped her out of her thoughts.
She dropped her tablet on the desk and began to talk away. I have checked your schedule, and you do not have surgery for the next 12 hours.
Well, good news! I smiled for the first time today.
But I have just confirmed that you will attend the charity gala tonight.
My face dropped, and hers quickly melted into a mix of fear and confusion. Im sorry, sir. I could cancel it right away.
Its alright. Go on. My low tone betrayed the frustration on my face. As much as I liked to attend parties while keeping a low profile and an open eye for the next pretty thing, tonight was supposed to be my alone time, with soft jazz music and wine.
At thirty-three, there was so much to get tired of my predictable lifestyle at the hospital, the random events, and meetings, but never the women or the wine.
I leaned back in my chair, half listening to Rebecca and half dreading that I must attend.
... a live auction for some good artworks, a few performances, and very few people to meet and speeches to give. So, this lets you show up and leave after a few glasses.
I nodded. Indeed, after a few glasses.
She heaved a sigh of relief that I made out to mean she was glad she escaped my wrath today. I was in a good mood and would only be attending because Mike insisted it was essential to keep up with the hospitals social gatherings.
Yet the event felt too small to deserve my attendance. Is there anything else I should know? Anyone?
No, Sir. Just the usual crowd, investors, socialites, and local artists.
Good. Ill be out soon.
She started to walk out, her pencil skirt accentuating her smooth hip sways and heels rattling, and I stopped her.
Get Mike on the phone. He needs to confirm she will not be there.
Later that evening, I stepped out of my Rolls-Royce Ghost in a sharp, no-nonsense tuxedo. God, these camera flashes could damage the lens. There were a few nods to the photographers on the side; they knew that meant a few pictures.
Maintaining a neutral expression, I walked briskly into the venue, afraid to waste any of my precious time.
Inside was a sea of gowns, suits, velvet drapes, and wine glasses. I did not know why I was already irritated, but I grabbed a glass from the server and walked in with a forced smile.
I was, in a way, grateful for Mikes delay in running a check on the attendees because the art auction had already begun, and that meant I could get this over and done with.
It was a quick hunt for my nemesis as soon as I stepped into the ballroom, and when I couldnt find her, I paused in my strides and gulped down my champagne in relief. I had every good reason to act like a detective at public events like these. Sarah.
The scene was like any usual charity gala with a side auction. I barely glanced around the room this time to know that none of the artworks here would get my money. Uninspired works were done by local artists to curry financial favor, which only heightened my urge to leave early.
But then, something hit me from the corner of my eye.
Six neat canvases depicted a different kind of feminine figure painted with a soft color clash, gracefully poised with ethereal soft lines in contrast to a chaotic, intense background with bold, aggressive strokes.
Two letters on the bottom of each canvas collectively spelled out ET-ER-NA-L G-RA-CE. I could not tell what the artist meant to convey, but I could feel my eyes narrow down on every color on the canvas and an overwhelming urge to trace my finger on the strokes. Who painted this?
Just then, a lady in red brushed past me and pointed at the canvases to be taken away.
Oh no! I stopped her, holding her arm lightly. Where do they go?
She seemed taken aback by the question but answered, To the stage for the auction.
Was it just me, or did I notice her displeasure at my touch? Well, that was a first.
A loud voice pulled me back to reality. The auctioneer said, Next up is a stunning piece by the talented and gorgeous Natalie Pierce. She calls it Eternal Grace.
We will start the bidding at fifty thousand!
Seventy thousand! A man in the audience raised the stakes.
Natalie Pierce. It was the lady in red. I had never heard of her, but looking back at the painting and replaying our encounter in my head, I felt greedy.
I raised my hand and swallowed whatever reticence I had.
One hundred thousand from Dr. Carter!
Her eyes widened with shock, and I smiled, then winked at her from across the room.
More bids came in, but I remained unfazed, as I would later stand to declare a five hundred thousand bid. The crowd murmured, and I took that as a sign that they thought the price was extreme to argue with. A smirk escaped me as I looked at Natalie, who frowned.
Sold to Dr. Carter!
A resounding applause followed, and I took a moment to savor my sheer satisfaction. Then, I reverted to Natalies frown and why people were buzzing with whispers.
Well, the paintings were mine. Next up was the artist.
The auction was finally over, but I lingered behind, defying my initial urge to get home as soon as it was over. I brushed off without stress a few people who came up to congratulate me on my excellent taste.
I was apparently waiting for her to round off her conversations, so when she looked up at me, I nodded, and she smiled. A type of smile that weakened my knees and made me want to sign her up for an advertisement for our dental department.
Natalie Pierce, I said her name, desperate for it to stick. Why would I want to forget this striking artist? Her dark, loose hair falling on her exposed collarbone told me she could be effortlessly attractive, and her feminine shape drew attention without trying.
She gestured as she spoke with the confidence of one with the world in her palm. I knew the conversation was finally over when she hugged the lady and shook hands with the man, who looked over his back as he left.
She waved at me, and my heart skipped. It was just a woman; why would her gaze make me anxious?
I made my way over to her without hesitation and extended my hand. Natalie Pierce, I presume?
You raised quite a bar today, Dr. Carter.
Alex. I quickly snapped in, holding her hand a bit longer. Your piece was one of the few things here worth my money.
I regretted the tone of my words as soon as she raised an eyebrow.
Oh, that must have felt nice to splurge on something unimportant.
Her words bit me and sweat ran down my face. Why? Most ladies in her shoes would keep their heads low, say yes, a few times, and smile when they met my eyes. But here she was, holding my gaze and not fawning over me.
I dont usually
Its alright. Billionaires like you care so much about local artists.
I steadied my gaze and got ready to bite back. Your work managed to catch my attention.
But she tightened her posture and crossed her arms. The colors? The emotion behind it? Or the price tag!
You think I went for it because it was expensive?
It is pretty obvious. A big ego to matches a big pocket.
Her words stung, and I didnt know how my voice had become a plea: Natalie, you are wrong about me! I liked it.
Next time, you and your fellow billionaires should not just throw money at events like these. Show real support, give opportunities or grants.
She challenged me with those words, which were both intriguing and infuriating: Do not lecture me on philanthropy. I do enough good for people.
Well, not for Natalie Pierce.
Thick and electric tension hung in the air, and I could hear my heart pounding explosively. This sassy, sharp-tongued woman had gotten under my skin, throwing me off balance for the first time.
Before I could say another word, she turned on her heels, disappeared into the crowd, and just like that, the night changed.