Chapter Six
ADRIANO
T ONIGHT'S BALL IS JUST like any other ball I've attended my whole life. First, as my billionaire father's only heir. And later, when I've made a name for myself, as one of the most successful attorneys on the East Coast.
When you attend them long enough, they start looking and feeling the same. It's just the same people over and over, and no one seems tired of playing the same game over and over as well.
But at the same time, tonight also feels different.
Because of her.
Shayla.
One look at her, and it's clear to see she's decided to let her hair down, both literally and figuratively.
The shapeless clothes have been replaced by something short and silky, and the sight of Shayla in it has me torn between wanting to keep her by my side and asking security to escort her out.
What the hell's she thinking? Does she not realize that all a guy has to be is five-foot-six and as soon as he looks down at her dress, he'll immediately find twin mountains of joy bared to his sight?
I shrug out of my jacket, and she blinks in surprise when I dump it over her shoulders.
"I'm not cold—"
"You are," I say in a steely voice, "and you'll stay cold if you know what's good for you."
My secretary rolls her eyes. "Oh, please—"
"Mr. Kontides!"
A blonde in a skintight red dress charges toward us, dragging an equally young brunette, and both of them looking barely old enough to drink.
"I told Candy we'd see you here," Red Dress gushes. "My dad's partner is, like, totally obsessed with your cases. I'm Stennie, by the way. Pre-law at Columbia."
Her friend extends a slender hand. "Candy. Also Columbia. Your TED Talk on corporate liability was life-changing."
Shayla's lips slowly press together, and I glare at her. If she so as much smiles, I'll kill her.
"We're, like, super passionate about social justice," Candy continues. "We'd totally love to pick your brains about it. Maybe we can get together—"
I nod at Shayla. "If you give her your number, she'll be in touch."
The two girls look at each other in confusion, and when they realize I have nothing else to say—
"Oh, um...okay." They give Shayla their numbers and look at me in confusion one last time before reluctantly saying goodbye because it's getting a little too awkward, even for them.
My secretary clears her throat. "So..."
"Don't."
"About your TED talk..."
I never did one, and she knows it.
"Shut up."
"I think she's just made that up as a pick-up line," Shayla suggests piously.
"Or maybe she, like, had me confused for someone else."
This has her laughing, and I'm, like, enthralled. Completely.
"You should still feel flattered though." Her voice is just oozing with sincerity. "Those two were half your age, and they obviously still think you're hot."
I'm saved from saying something caustic when someone jostles her from behind, pushing her closer to me. For one moment, her body is pressed tightly against my chest—
And my arms automatically tighten the moment I feel her stiffen.
"If you don't let go of me in the next three seconds," she says under her breath, "you'll have people start talking."
"Let them."
Consternation flashes in her eyes, but this only makes me want to hold on to her more tightly.
"Mr. Kontides..."
She's glaring at me as she says this, but it only makes me realize that the angrier my secretary is...
Shit.
The moment I realize where my thoughts are heading, it feels like someone's dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. It's one thing to realize that Shayla can look pretty damn good when she cares to wear something else aside from her shapeless sacks. But to start thinking that I'm also attracted to her?
My arms automatically loosen, and while this obviously surprises Shayla—
She doesn't waste another second, doesn't even bother giving an excuse, doesn't even look back as she makes her escape.
Smart of her.
I should be glad that one of us still has a functioning brain and knows better than to let our professional relationship develop into something else.
But I'm not.
"Kontides, isn't it?"
The voice is slightly familiar, and I turn around warily.
Ah.
It's the man who was with Shayla that evening.
"Colin Soukoulis." He extends his hand for a shake. "My wife Hope is friends with Shayla."
My lips twist in a sardonic smile. "It's my first time to hear that. My secretary believes in keeping her work and personal life separate."
Colin looks at me thoughtfully. "But you don't?"
I only shrug, mostly because I'm feeling defensive all of a sudden, and it's a feeling I haven't had since... hell, I can't even remember the last time I felt like this. Even worse, I don't even know what I have to hide or feel defensive about.
"You know," the other man says conversationally, "I almost lost my wife once."
The words put me on edge for some reason. Why is it that everything this man says or does bothers the hell out of me?
"I thought I wanted one thing. And I was firmly convinced that I had no need for the other. I had a plan, and I was determined to stick to it."
"I don't see that as a problem."
Colin only nods. "That's true. But only up to a point. People who are used to being in control have a tendency to fear change. But because it wouldn't do for them to admit such...reservations, they end up using their plans—or routines even—to prevent such changes from taking places. Even if it's the best thing that can happen...to both of them."
What the hell is this guy saying?
Colin only smiles at my silence. "Perhaps we can have dinner sometime. I'll have Hope reach out to Shayla."
I've never had anyone have the last word so easily, dammit. But the thing is...I can't think of anything else to say either. And as painful as this is to admit, minutes have already passed since Soukoulis left that it finally hits me.
Both of them.
Those were the exact words he had used.
Because my secretary is as much as a control freak as I am, and since we have that in common...was Soukoulis suggesting that all the other factors were the same for both of us?
Which means...if I've started seeing Shayla as a woman—
Has she also started seeing me as a man?
SHAYLA
At first, I was ecstatic and relieved to see a familiar face in the crowd. I didn't expect Hope and Colin would be attending the same fundraiser, but come to think of it, I should have realized they'd get an invitation to this as well. Her husband was a billionaire, after all. That's all that's needed for everyone to want you in their party, even if they don't know you from Adam.
But when Hope tells me how she saw me in my boss's arms before looking at me meaningfully?
Ugh.
"Just because you and Colin are now happily married doesn't mean everyone wants the same happy-ever-after ending."
"Not everyone, yes...but remember when we were kids, and we used to have art classes? And remember how you'd always draw—"
"Nope."
Hope laughs. "It's all over your face. You totally remember—"
"You're, like, totally mistaken." And I'm, like, totally blaming those girls from earlier for suddenly making me sound like them when I'm flustered.
"This one time, please humor your once-orphaned, once-bullied friend whose pregnancy is quite sensitive—"
Childhood friends are the worst. They know exactly which sob story to use to get their way.
"Close your eyes..."
Fine.
"Recall all of those sketches you made about the wedding day you imagined."
Ugh.
"And then ask God in your heart—"
Oh no.
I find myself shifting on my feet as soon as I hear her say this.
"To show you the man He's chosen for you—"
What if I don't want to?
What if...I also don't want to believe in God?
Can I just keep pretending that He isn't real?
"—in case you already know this person."
No. No. No.
Because the moment she says this, I see it.
I see him.
And Him.
A presence of light that's terrifying in how comforting I find it...right behind my annoyingly gorgeous boss, who's also terrifying, but for entirely different reasons.
Hope suddenly snaps her fingers, and the sound makes me open my eyes.
Uh...
Why do I feel so disoriented? And so inexplicably overwhelmed?
My friend smiles.
I scowl back.
But this only makes her smile widen.
Grrrr.
She's just so different these days. It's as if she knows something that I don't. Something that her husband also knows. And it just makes them so content— but in a way that has nothing to do with her husband's fortune—and so genuinely kind (you can just feel they're not faking it) and...and so horribly wise, even when they're so swift to say that they don't have the answers to everything.
I mean, have you ever met someone like that?
Someone who says they trust God to actually tell them what to do, and they, you know, actually mean it?
"Stop smiling at me like that," I grumble.
But this only makes my friend ask teasingly, "Dare I make a guess—"
"No. Don't you dare."
"But—"
My phone buzzes.
Oh, thank goodness.
But when I see who's sent me a message—
We need to get back to the office. Work emergency.
I take it back. This is nothing to be thankful about. At all.