33. Stan
Chapter thirty-three
Stan
I slide my hand over Sam’s silk dress, savoring the feel of her lower back and lack of panty lines before I slip it over her hip possessively. We follow the red carpet around the corner toward the courtyard. It’s a sweeping paved area on a lake. Twinkle lights are strung through palm trees that aren’t remotely indigenous to the area. There’s a pair of large sliding glass doors that open into a ballroom.
Her little slip of the tongue didn’t go unnoticed by me. Not one bit.
Break up?
My face almost hurts with how much I’m grinning.
She’s refusing to look at me. I know she’s waiting for me to crack a joke and break the tension.
But I deny her that.
Break up.
These two words imply that we're together now. No longer the aloof boy who hid his crush and the girl who pretended to hate him.
Just two adults who have fallen deeply in love with each other. That's all that matters and all I want.
She leans against my shoulder as we walk. I try not to get irritated by the photographs dulling my vision.
“No pictures, please,” Sam says with a wave of her hand .
Startled, the photographers and journalists start deleting the shots they've already taken.
“I don't mind,” I whisper to her.
“Yes, you do,” she says.
She's not wrong.
“I don't want to be the jerk who doesn't want to show his face, especially as I'm about to make a huge donation.”
“And I don't want your photos taken without permission. I'm your personal assistant tonight, and… it's my job, okay?”
The latter part of that statement isn't what she meant to say, but I sigh and go along with her.
“Really sorry about the photos,” one of the journalists apologizes. “We didn't expect to see the Stan Holt here.”
The Stan Holt.
Not the son of Benjamin Holt.
It feels good people are finally acknowledging me. This journalist deserves an award.
“It's fine, just ask first,” I raise my free hand.
“May we take your picture for the paper?” she asks.
“Sure.”
The flashing lights don't feel as numbing as before.
This event is for lobbyists. City contractors. Construction moguls. This isn’t about the fire; it’s about the attendees’ best interests.
As someone in the film industry, I feel out of place here. And I hate events like these, fake and filled with people who just want to make sure that their social balances are filled to the brim to secure votes. Or their accounts are filled through the proceeds of the donations.
Luckily, I know the owner and organizer of the event, who would genuinely put the victims’ needs first before these selfish pricks get their share, which would be crumbs. It’s the only reason I agreed to attend this event .
Nevertheless, the night wears on in a blur of boring conversation and forced enthusiasm.
The only good thing about this night is my woman.
And boy, what a woman.
She introduces herself to the other guests and talks about Stan Holt Productions. Her targets are those in the entertainment industry she recognizes, and she aims to form partnerships.
But that's not what catches my attention. The shimmer of the pale pink silk sliding over Sam’s skin mesmerizes me. It’s borderline sensual, the way her painted lips press against the edge of a champagne glass. The way her throat bobs as she swallows it is enough to make me blush as I’m transported back to that morning.
Even though we haven’t addressed any labels between us, I introduce her to people as my girlfriend. She presses closer to me every time.
Needless to say, she glows, and everyone sees it. Everyone is drawn to her, just like they always have been.
“Samantha? Is that you?” a voice calls.
“Tina?” Sam’s eyes light up when she takes in the dark-haired woman, who appears to be a bit younger. “Hi!”
Sam almost squeals as she wraps her free arm around the woman’s neck. I press my lips together to cover the smile. I have a feeling the champagne is affecting her volume control.
“What are you doing here? Glorbus Construction are also donating?” Sam inquires.
Oh, it's her former colleague.
“I have no idea. There's no one from there here,” Tina says. “I quit working there. I’m interning as a journalist now.” She shows a badge.
“Oh, that's so good for you.”
“Never mind that. Is that who I think it is?” Tina asks, glancing at me and suppressing a giggle.
“Oh, this is,” Sam turns to me, “Stan Holt. My boyfriend.”
Man, it feels good to hear her introduce me like that.
Tina's jaw drops. “You're dating the Stan Holt? ”
“Yep.” Sam sounds like she can't be believe it, either, and that brings a smile on my face.
“I'm so happy for you! Especially with what happened with Henry. I'm sorry I couldn't do anything,” Tina says.
“It's fine. It’s not like there was anything we could do about it,” Sam says.
“Well, if it's any consolation, Henry got fired,” Tina tells her.
A smirk forms on my face. I lift the glass of champagne to my lips to hide it.
“Why? What happened?” Sam asks with a frown.
“It’s strange,” Tina says. “These are just rumors, but he screwed up a contract. Was out-bought by another party and the contract got terminated. Then the office building was bought and sold almost immediately. The company kept moving offices, and people started working from home. Henry was also exposed for money laundering and cutting corners. He denied everything but got sacked. Maxwell got Henry’s job and is currently in charge now.”
Sam stays silent, trying to process everything.
“Maxwell has no idea how it happened, either,” Tina adds. “All he knows is that the founder received a tip on Henry, fired him, and got Maxwell promoted. It's very bizarre if you ask me.”
“Yeah, it still makes no sense…” Then Sam stops talking.
Shit.
Sam turns to face me fully. My jaw twitches, and I try to act casual as I glance around the room.
“Well, that's too bad,” Sam says, turning to look at Tina again. “Good riddance to that trash. I'm glad Henry got fired. The douchebag deserved it. And Maxwell, bless his heart, is in the position he deserves.”
Despite her kind words, Samantha Knight has a vein popping out of her forehead.
She knows I'm behind it. She's going to kill me.
And I'm getting hard just thinking about it.
The two women continue to laugh and play catch-up for the next few minutes. And when Tina finally leaves us, Sam returns to my side, slides her fingers through mine, and grits out, “Time for you and me to have a chat. ”
“About?” I ask nonchalantly.
“In private,” is all she says as she leads me away, wearing a fake smile that matches those of all the other vipers slithering around us.