Chapter 73
A s I head to the Lyric Opera House in a Town Car, I remind myself to only have two drinks.
I’m still a little embarrassed about being drunk at Kent’s birthday party.
Stepping out of the car, I’m thankful for Nikola’s insistence on the most formal option she brought.
My dress is definitely not over the top for the crowd. Nikola knows best .
My phone lights up with a message from Adam.
Adam Harris
Two minutes away.
I wait outside on the sidewalk, observing the sea of people. It’s a unique mix of worker bees leaving their office jobs and people arriving in luxury cars in black-tie attire.
“Dani,” Declan greets me, his tone flat.
“Declan.” His quick glance over me and subsequent smile make me smirk. I feel hot … I’m also sober. Can he tell?
Declan continues walking in, not saying another word. Where’s the banter? I push down the feeling that I’m a little sad he didn’t talk to me more. An emotionless interaction with Declan. How bizarre.
Then Adam arrives, and his reaction is everything. “Dani,” he growls, and I’m happy Adam thinks I look hot. I can’t help but to eye fuck him too. He always looks good, but tonight, in a tuxedo, he looks too good.
We make our way inside, navigating through the crowd. The gala’s atmosphere is filled with the clinking of champagne glasses. The high ceiling, ornate with intricate designs, and the elegant lighting cast a warm glow over the crowd. There are easily three hundred people here.
When we reach the check-in, Adam doesn’t say anything, like he’s expecting recognition.
I giggle and nudge him playfully. “Harris,” he says after a moment, and the attendant hands us a brochure and a paddle for the auction.
Adam leans down, whispering, “I’m using this later.
” I laugh, hoping he does. As we enter the main room, Adam looks at me.
“We have a lot of hands to shake. Are you ready?”
“Ready.”
Adam interlaces his fingers with mine and guides us into the crowd. Extending his hand, he says, “Governor, always a pleasure. We need to continue our conversation next week.” I sense a tension between them.
“We’ll find time,” the governor replies, then turns to me. “Adam’s so rude. What’s your name?”
“I’m Dani,” I say, feeling his eyes linger over me a moment too long.
“My girlfriend and I,” Adam quickly adds, “have been spending a lot of time on Geneva Lake this summer. Let’s get dinner soon at your place.”
The territorial use of the word “girlfriend” turns me on more than it should.
“I love that lake,” he says, not looking at Adam, instead holding intense eye contact with me.
“I don’t get to spend as much time there as I’d like.
” He breaks his stare. It looks like he sees someone he wants to speak with.
“Your support has always been invaluable.” The governor shakes Adam’s hand again, a hint of tension in his voice.
The coded language between them is subtle but clear.
As he walks away, I raise my eyebrows.
“Don’t be impressed, all he’s done in life is win the sperm lottery.” Adam huffs.
“I didn’t realize you were so into politics.”
“At this stage in my career, you have to be.”
I consider that for a moment until an older man approaches to Adam and begins asking him for his opinions on China’s housing glut and if there’s an investment opportunity there.
As Adam dives in, excited to talk about this, he might as well be speaking Mandarin because of the amount of financial jargon he’s using.
I excuse myself to explore the paintings and art that are up for auction.
They are displayed beautifully along the sides of the room.
Wandering through the collection, one painting catches my eye. It’s a serene landscape, depicting a river flowing through a forest. Something about it stirs a memory deep within me, and I’m suddenly transported back to my childhood.
I flashback to the first time I walked into my dad’s rehab facility.
I was a kid, barely understanding the complexities of addiction and recovery.
The facility had a large painting in the lobby, similar to this one, and it felt so out of place in the sterile environment.
That painting … I remember finding a momentary escape amidst the confusion and fear of that day.
Shaking off the memory, I return to the present, feeling a sense of pride for what I’ve been able to accomplish despite what the statistics would say about someone like me, especially my Adverse Childhood Experiences score, which basically says I’m fucking doomed.
I make my way back to Adam, who greets me by placing his hand on the small of my back as he continues his financial conversation. The older man nods like he’s absorbing all of Adam’s words before saying he needs a drink.
“Why do people keep asking you about China?”
“It’s my niche.” Adam shrugs, looking around the room.
“We have the most extensive Chinese investor base.” I nod, not quite understanding.
Then he mutters, “Just the man I wanted to see.” Taking my hand, Adam leads us over to a tall, dark, and handsome man.
He’s older than Adam, but nothing about him reads old.
Is he a celebrity? Regular people don’t age like this.
“Jeff,” he greets, shaking his hand. “Good to see you outside the boardroom. This is my girlfriend, Dani. She runs a PR firm.”
“Dani, nice to meet you,” Jeff says warmly. “You’ll have to meet my daughter. She put this event together and is on the board of a few charities. She’s always looking to connect with PR girls.”
“I’d love to meet her.”
The conversation with Jeff is a pleasant shift from the earlier financial talk.
“We should all do dinner soon. The girls could meet then too. How’s your son?”
“Law school is harder than he thought it would be.” Jeff laughs, and so does Adam.
“Have you put any thought into our last conversation?” Adam asks.
“I have. Let me think about it some more.”
“Self-made turned CEO of Pour. Single dad. Multilingual. You’d win.”
Jeff looks at me nervously, like I’m hearing something I shouldn’t. “I’ll call you next week,” he says coolly and excuses himself.
I look at Adam, questioning. “A little pet project I’m working on,” he whispers in my ear before kissing my temple.
I tilt my head, curious if he’s implying that Jeff should be the next governor. “Do you want another drink?” I ask him. He shakes his head, and I raise my empty glass, signaling that I’m getting one.
Waiting in the bar line, I take out my phone and search “Jeff Pour CEO.” I’m curious to learn more about this guy.
Pour is a company most people in Chicago know.
It employs thousands of people and is the largest alcohol distributor in the country.
Oh , I laugh under my breath. It’s spelled with a G .
Geoff Albert is the CEO of Pour. As I skim the results, I learn he built and sold a vodka brand before climbing his way up the company.
Reading his bio, my intuition tells me that Adam wants him to be the next governor.
“Bored?” Declan’s voice has a way of commanding attention. I look up from my phone to see him standing there. There’s something about men in tuxedos. He looks far too good tonight, and his hand and neck tattoos are the only visible sign of his past.
“No, checking in on something.” I try to maintain a casual tone. I can’t let him rile me up tonight.
He smirks. “Like any of the art here?”
“Yeah, one piece caught my eye,” I say.
He hums thoughtfully. “What do you think of these types of events?”
“They’re cool.”
“They’re boring,” he whispers. Was it a sexy whisper or just a whisper?
“A little boring,” I softly confide. The bartender hands me a fresh glass of champagne and I take a fast sip, trying to shake off the energy I was feeling with him.
“I’m still getting used to them,” Declan says, and we take a few steps from the bar. “Did you ever think you’d be at this type of thing?”
“Yeah. I manifested it.” I smile. “This is the life I’ve always wanted.” Although it’s less exciting than I thought it would be. “What about you, Mafia?”
He smiles before saying, “Our parties were never boring.”
Smirking, I lift my glass before taking a sip.
He shakes his head, unamused with me.
“This is my last drink for the night.” I’m saying it to him as much as I’m saying it to myself. “You can stop worrying about me.” He scoffs, and I remind him, a bit pointedly, “Don’t forget you bought me a drink once.”
“That was before … I realized how …” His hand gently holds my arm.
“Stop,” I say firmly, sensing he’s about to make some kind of declaration. Brushing off his touch, our hands touch. It’s electric. “I’m with Adam.”