11. Natalie
NATALIE
Rebecca’s talking about something—a model she wants to meet, maybe—but I’m barely listening.
Henry’s here. He’s working the room with his jacket open, one hand tucked in his pocket, wearing that smile that makes people lean in like he’s about to share a secret.
I’ve never seen him at one of these midweek mixers before.
The Parkview Hotel on a Tuesday night doesn’t exactly scream his usual scene.
Yet here he is, and naturally every woman in the room, including Rebecca, is practically drooling.
The last time I saw Henry, his head was between my thighs. So when I spotted him across the room tonight, for one ridiculous, traitorous heartbeat, I actually wondered if he was here to taunt me. But that’s impossible. He couldn’t have known I’d be here.
It’s been almost two weeks, and I’ve thought about him more than I care to admit. I’m glad I deleted his number because alone in my apartment, there were moments I might’ve called. Might’ve let things go further.
“There’s Anna-Lynn,” Rebecca says, nodding subtly across the room.
I spot Anna-Lynn Rhodes. She runs one of the most influential style pages in the city.
She doesn’t chase trends because she decides them.
Her approval can shift public opinion faster than a headline, and like it or not, that’s why we’re here tonight.
Get Anna-Lynn’s blessing, and everyone else follows. She hasn’t RSVP’d to our show yet.
She’s dressed in something fashion-forward and effortless. An oversized blazer cinched at the waist with a vintage belt, sculptural heels, minimal makeup, and a sleek bob that somehow makes her look intimidating. It’s the kind of cool I still aspire to.
Rebecca straightens beside me and flashes a bright smile. “Let’s go say hi.”
We weave through clusters of editors and PR folks until we reach Anna-Lynn, her drink in hand, surveying the room.
“Anna-Lynn,” Rebecca says, voice smooth. “I’m Rebecca. I love your page.”
Anna-Lynn doesn’t look up right away. When she does, she does so abruptly. Half-smile, half-bored. “Hi,” she says flatly, as if we’re a mild annoyance. She takes a sip and glances past us, scanning.
I open my mouth: “Natalie Wright, from Vue—”
She cuts me off with a hum. “Mm,” like she’s not convinced. I brace for her cold shoulder, but then her expression softens. Her eyes widen, her lips tilt into a smile, and she glances past me.
Henry’s crossing the room toward us, heads turning as he moves, like a scene unfolding in slow motion.
“Anna,” Henry says as he steps in. His eyes drop to me. “Natalie.” I feel it everywhere, like a spark under my skin. He turns to Rebecca. “And you are?”
“Rebecca,” she blurts too fast. Then she laughs, flustered.
He offers a hand. “Henry. Nice to meet you.”
Rebecca looks like she might combust the moment their hands touch.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” Anna-Lynn says to Henry, her tone suddenly syrupy. “These things are usually full of nobodies. I almost never come.” Before he can answer, she plows on. “I loved Carter’s latest drop. Gave it my highest rating.”
“I saw,” he says, polite. Then he glances at me again. “Vue’s been doing interesting things lately.”
What is he doing?
“Yeah,” Anna-Lynn says. Her eyes stay locked on Henry. I wouldn’t believe the effect he has on women if I wasn’t watching it happen in real time.
“So, there’s talk about the AHFF gala,” she adds, tilting toward him like a sunflower toward the sun. “Hope I get an invite.”
God. She might as well say take me as your date.
“I’m sure Isabelle has you on the list,” Henry says, polite but noncommittal.
“Are you here alone?” she asks.
“I am.”
“Shocking,” she says, all teeth. “How are you even single?”
He lets the silence stretch for a beat. “I’m not.”
My head snaps up. Excuse me? He has a girlfriend?
“I’m taken,” he continues. “She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Anna-Lynn laughs, a little too loud, clearly trying to keep the focus on herself.
“Guess some women don’t know a good thing when they see it.”
“She knows,” Henry says. “I think she just likes to play with me.”
Then he looks straight at me.
A jolt of heat hits my chest. Is he talking about me? God, I hope not. Or worse, I hope so. Either way, I hate how flustered I feel.
I clear my throat and force my voice to stay level. “Let’s hope your mystery woman doesn’t distract you too much. Your show’s coming up soon, right?” I don’t give him a chance to answer. “Ours is going to look very different this year.”
It’s a clumsy pivot, but I say it loud enough to try and hook Anna-Lynn’s attention. She doesn’t even flinch. Her eyes stay fixed on Henry like he’s the only person worth looking at.
“Do I get an invite?” he asks casually. “I’d love to see the new direction up close.”
That finally gets her. Anna-Lynn turns to us.
“We keep a tight guest list,” I say coolly.
“Anna’s invited though, right?” Henry adds, shifting his attention to her. “You’ll have to fill me in after.”
Anna-Lynn lights up. “Oh, definitely. I’ll be there.”
Of course she will. I guess Henry just RSVP’d for her. I glance at him, trying to read his expression. He’s not clueless, he knows exactly what he’s doing. That smile, that voice, the way he doles out just enough attention to pull you in without giving anything away.
I hate how easily it works on me. Hate the heat that rises when he looks at me. The way something in me reacts, like a switch flipped without warning.
It’s not supposed to be this easy. I’m not supposed to be this easy.
I straighten, suddenly restless. I need space. Air. Something to break whatever this is before I start falling into it.
“Great,” I say, a little too tightly. I turn to Rebecca. “Let’s grab a drink.”
I steer us toward the champagne table, half-hidden behind a wall of extravagant florals, hoping it’s enough to pull myself back together.
Rebecca exhales like she’s just stepped out of a wind tunnel. She’s flustered, charmed, caught up in him. I can’t judge her, because I am too. I grab a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray and take a long sip. Then another. I drain it too quickly, but I need the burn.
“We could probably go. Mission accomplished,” I say.
“Really?” Rebecca says.
“Ten more minutes,” I offer. “Go and mingle.”
She grins and disappears into a nearby group.
I sigh, set my empty glass down, and reach for another.
That’s when I spot Henry hovering at the edge of my vision, heading this way.
My pulse ticks up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I panic. I set the champagne down and walk straight to the restroom.
I’m not hiding from him. I’m just...tactically avoiding being alone with him. Totally different.
I should’ve stayed in the restroom.
The next ten minutes turn into a game of cat and mouse. Every time I shift, Henry adjusts. Never obvious, never direct but close enough that I can feel him trying to catch me alone.
Right now, I can’t get to Rebecca without crossing his path, and that’s exactly what I’m avoiding.
Because if I end up alone with him, I’ll do something stupid.
Blush. Stumble over my words. Give myself away.
He’ll know how much he gets to me, and I’ll become just another woman he’s managed to charm.
I could leave. But that would mean admitting, even to myself, that he gets under my skin enough to chase me out of a room. I’m not giving him that. Not when he’s already smug enough as it is.
So, I stay. I slip into a conversation with a junior buyer from Milan and nod along like her breakdown of winter palettes is absolutely riveting. It’s not. But I ask a follow-up question, just to keep myself busy. Just to avoid looking around the room again.
When that doesn’t buy me enough time, I pretend I’ve spotted someone I know across the room and cross the floor with purpose, only to lose myself in the crowd instead.
I make a show of looking preoccupied, like I’m searching for someone, or late for something.
Anything that makes me look unavailable.
I circle near the bar, then retreat to a group gathered by the gift bags. He doesn’t follow directly, but I feel him circling.
He starts walking toward me, and my phone buzzes in my bag.
Thank God.
I grab it like a lifeline, pretending it’s important as he closes in again. I don’t even check the number before I lift it to my ear.
“Natalie Wright,” I say briskly.
“You’re slippery,” Henry says, smooth as ever. “But I’m persistent.”
I spin around. He’s across the room, phone to his ear, gaze locked on mine like I’ve just stepped into checkmate.
“How did you get this number?” I ask.
“I’m resourceful. You bring that out in me,” he says. “You’re welcome for Anna-Lynn, by the way.”
“What was that?”
“She was brushing you off. I gave her a reason not to.” He pauses. “I’m trying to win you over, in case that wasn’t obvious.”
“You’ve got a room full of women who actually like you. Why waste your time on me?”
“Exactly,” he says smoothly. “You’re discerning. Smart. Probably smarter than me. That’s rare.”
My stomach flips, warmth coils low in my spine, and something traitorous sparks in my chest. I know better than to let a line like that work on me—especially from him—but it still does.
“Probably not as rare as you think,” I say.
He grins. “See? Why settle for someone who likes me when I could chase your soul-crushing disapproval?”
“I’m not interested.”
I move to hang up.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he says. “Because if you hang up, I’m coming over there, and getting on my knees.”
“What?”
“To beg for a date. Unless you’ve got other ideas.”
He takes a step forward. Instinctively, I step back.
“Want me to do it here? In front of everyone? Let the whole room see you’ve got a thing for me?”
“Blackmail. Classy.”
“Don’t test me, Wright. You know I’ll do it.”
I believe him. He’d get on his knees and eat up every second of the attention.
“It’s one date. You’ll survive.”
I sigh. “Fine.”
His grin is instant, smug enough to light the room. “You won’t regret this.”
“I already do. Speak to me again tonight and the date’s off.”
I hang up and slip the phone into my purse just as Rebecca appears beside me, brows lifted.
“There you are,” she says.
“We can go now.” I keep my voice breezy. Like nothing happened.
She falls in step beside me and the hum of conversation fades as we head for the exit.
Outside, the warm air hits my face and I can’t help it, I grin. I know exactly who Henry is. I know better. But none of that matters. I said yes, and the truth is, I’m looking forward to it.