Chapter Nineteen - James
CHAPTER NINETEEN
James
James adjusted Hannah's chair as she sat, hyperaware of how this moment echoed their disaster at Valentine's Day. But this was different. He was different.
"You look beautiful," he said quietly, meaning it in a way he never had before. Her dress was simple—probably not designer, definitely not expensive. He didn't understand how he had ever seen her as lacking in sophistication. Now when he looked at her, it only made the socialites around them look overdone.
Hannah smoothed her skirt, a nervous gesture he found endearing. "I feel a bit out of place."
"You're perfect." The words came automatically, but for once they weren't a line. She was perfect—not in the polished way of his usual world, but in a way that made everything else feel artificial in comparison.
He noticed the glances from his colleagues—the quick assessments, the subtle dismissals. The way their eyes slid past Hannah like she wasn't worth registering. It bothered him in a way it wouldn't have before.
"Park." A voice he recognized made him tense. Marcus Tran, the investor he'd been pursuing for months, was making his way toward them.
James's hand found Hannah's shoulder instinctively. "Marcus. Allow me to introduce—"
"James, got a minute?" Marcus cut in smoothly, already steering him away. "That proposal you sent over—I had some thoughts."
James hesitated, looking back at Hannah. "I should really—"
"It'll just take a moment," Marcus insisted. "You want to hear this, trust me."
James squeezed Hannah's shoulder. "Just one quick meeting," he promised. "I'll be right back."
Hannah smiled—that careful, understanding smile that made something twist in his chest. "Of course. Go ahead."
As Marcus led him away, James glanced back. Hannah sat perfectly straight in her chair, hands folded in her lap, looking beautiful against the opulent backdrop of the event.
Just two minutes, he told himself. Then he'd make it up to her.
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"The expansion possibilities are impressive," Marcus was saying. James found his attention drifting to Hannah. She was still at their table, watching the crowd with that quiet observation he'd come to recognize—the way she really saw people.
"James?" Marcus's voice sharpened. "Are you with me?"
"Of course." James forced his focus back to business. This deal could mean everything for his company's growth. Just a few more minutes, then he'd return to Hannah. "About the European markets—"
"Park!" Another voice cut through the crowd. Richard, head of First National's investment division. "Tell me you're not monopolizing Marcus. Some of us want to discuss that merger proposal."
James felt the familiar pull of networking, of deals and connections.
He glanced her way again. She'd moved to the bar, standing slightly apart from the crowd. Someone bumped past her without acknowledging her presence, and James saw her shoulders tense slightly.
"The merger's actually perfect timing," Marcus was saying. "With the market positioning—"
"One moment," James started to step away, but Richard's hand landed on his shoulder.
"I'd like to get you and Trevor Martinez working together on this."
He was barely listening. He looked toward Hannah again, remembering another night, another room, another time he'd left her waiting.
But this was different. He was different.
"The projections for Q3," Marcus prompted, pulling James back into the conversation. Away from Hannah. Away from the growing unease in his chest.
Just five more minutes, he promised himself.
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The minutes slipped by like water through his fingers. Each time James looked for Hannah, she seemed smaller, more distant. He kept catching glimpses between conversations:
Hannah sipping her champagne.
Hannah adjusting her dress—a nervous tell he'd learned to recognize.
Hannah watching him work the room, her expression growing more remote.
"The board would need assurance," someone was saying. James nodded, making appropriate responses, but his attention kept fragmenting.
Five minutes had become ten. Ten had become half an hour.
She was still there, though. Still waiting. The knowledge sat like lead in his stomach.
"Park, what's your take on the regulatory concerns?"
"I—" He caught another glimpse of Hannah. A group of women in designer dresses swept past her table, their laughter sharp and exclusive. She straightened her shoulders—a subtle, proud gesture. One that meant she was hurting but wouldn't show it.
Just like Valentine's Day.
The thought hit him like a physical blow.
"Excuse me," he said abruptly, cutting off whoever had been speaking. "I need to—"
But when he turned back toward her, she was no longer there.
His heart stopped.
"Park? About those projections..."
He'd lost her.
Again.
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James pushed through the crowd, his perfectly tailored suit feeling like a straightjacket. The room suddenly felt too large, too loud, too full of people who didn't matter. "Has anyone seen—"
But of course they hadn't seen her. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? His world had looked right through her. Just like he used to.
"James!" Marcus called out. "About that proposal—"
"Not now." He didn't even look back, scanning the edges of the room where she might have retreated. But he knew. The empty champagne glass on their table. The chair pushed in with careful precision.
She was gone.
He burst into the lobby, startling a group of executives. "Did you see—" But how could he even describe her to these people? A beautiful woman in a beautiful dress. The kind of dress you probably wouldn't notice. The kind of woman I used to not notice.
The night air hit him like a slap when he pushed through the doors. The street was empty except for arriving guests and waiting cars. No sign of her.
He called her, waiting for her to pick up but instead it just rang and rang. What was he even planning to say to her?
Sorry I did exactly what I did at Nero's? Sorry I proved you right about me?
He'd done it again.
The realization made him physically ill. All his promises to be different, to see her, to prove he'd changed—they meant nothing. Because when it mattered, when it really mattered, he'd chosen his world over her.
Just like before.
"Mr. Park?" The doorman's voice cut through his spiral. "Your car is ready."
James looked at the waiting town car, at the glittering event behind him, at all the trappings of success he'd spent his life pursuing.
It all felt hollow now.
Because somewhere in the city, Hannah Miller was making her way home alone.
Again.