Chapter 11
Vic reminded himself, twice—maybe three times—that he did not need to be here looking like a man out to prove anything.
Yet here he stood, in the gilded entrance of the Lakeshore Grand Ballroom, wearing a tuxedo that cost more than a person’s first car.
He slid his hands into his pockets. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he took in the room.
It was the fundraiser for his new property. The name had just been revealed.
The Artisan Avenue.
He was here because Maxwell & Sons was the largest development group in Ohio and because showing his face at events such as this mattered. He was not here to see Tachina. At least, that was the lie he’d been telling himself.
The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and amber light. Guests in tuxedos and beautiful gowns moved like a swarm of wealth and connections. Renderings of the Artisan Avenue were displayed on easels around the room, showcasing its sleek lines, glass expansions, and lakeside integration.
Tachina’s vision.
Her brilliance.
Even though he’d seen them all before, tonight they hit harder.
“Victor.” His mother swept in, elegant in her champagne gown.
She air-kissed his cheeks and stepped back to give him the once-over.
“Darling. You look stunning.” Nancy Maxwell brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket.
Her dark-brown hair with hints of gray streaks was pulled back in an intricate bun with a few wisps of hair flowing down to frame her face.
“Everyone is talking about the Artisan Avenue. This was a wonderful investment. Your father is thrilled.”
“Glad to hear it.” He smiled politely. His gaze flicked across the room where his father was engrossed in a conversation with the mayor.
“I had such a wonderful time with you and Kian on Wednesday. You must bring him around more, Victor,” she huffed.
Vic had taken Kian over to their home as promised.
It was an awkward dinner as always. Private chefs cooking extravagant meals.
His parents never understood that young children didn’t need all of that.
Chicken nuggets or spaghetti would have sufficed for Kian.
Not dishes that he couldn’t even pronounce.
“He’s grown so much. And he’s so smart. Which is why we need to see about enrolling him in Taylor Academy,” his mother went on. “They only accept so many students each year. I have a few contacts that I can reach out to—”
“Mom, he’s fine,” Vic cut her off. In her own way, Vic knew his mother cared for her grandson and wanted the best for him, the same as she and his father had provided for Vic and Logan. But high-priced private schools didn’t mean good education or a right fit for the kid.
“He’s already been accepted?” Her eyes brightened. “Victor, that is wonderful—”
“No, I mean he’s fine where he is. Tachina and I researched schools, and the one he is currently attending is excellent, and he loves his teachers there.”
Her face fell. Vic sighed and held back rolling his eyes. If he did, then he’d received a lecture from his mother about etiquette in public.
“But, darling. Taylor Academy is the best.” She straightened to her full height, but something, or someone, caught her attention. “There is Senator Sherman. I need to speak with him. We will discuss this later, Victor.”
Another air kiss and she was gone.
Vic blew out a deep breath and rotated his shoulders. The tension in them was unbearable. He needed a good massage to help work out the kinks.
He took a few steps into the room, deciding he needed to circulate and get it over. Someone called his name, and he paused. This time, he did roll his eyes.
“Vic,” a soft voice repeated.
Sydney.
She stood there, posed like she was awaiting a photographer to take her picture.
She was encased in a long white gown, blonde hair up in a perfect twist, diamonds catching every angle of the room’s light.
She was here doing what she did best—searching for an opportunity amongst the wealthy for her philanthropic advancements.
“Sydney.” His tone was clipped, and he hoped she got the message that he didn’t want any shit tonight.
Something flicked in her gaze as she moved to stand next to him.
“You look good.” Her gaze glided over him from head to toe. A small smile appeared on her lips.
“You’re working this event?” He didn’t return the compliment. He was sure she was waiting for one, but she wasn’t going to get it from him.
“You know I am always a big supporter of the city’s revitalization projects.” She tilted her head to the side while her smile widened. “And I heard you would be here.”
Of course she’d heard.
He took a champagne flute from a circulator, not because he wanted it, but because it gave him an excuse not to respond to her.
“We need to talk, Vic.” She pressed closer to him.
“No, we don’t.” He threw her a glare that would have lesser men running from him. He wasn’t in the mood for her bullshit. No tonight. Hell, not ever.
“Maybe I was being rash that night,” she murmured.
She tried an innocent expression, but Vic saw right through it.
“We both said some things that we regret,” she added. “I shouldn’t have brought up marriage and kids the way I did. I know it overwhelmed you—”
“Syd.”
This time, she paused at his chilled tone. Her eyes widened as she took him in.
“Ending it was the right call,” he said. “For both of us.”
She immediately glanced around as if to check if any of the patrons were paying attention to their conversation. She faced him, her eyes hardened a fraction.
“I disagree.” This was the real Sydney, the one who didn’t like losing or being seen as anything other than perfect.
An attendee near them gasped. They were taking in one of the renderings of the Artisan Avenue.
“It is stunning. The expansion along the lakefront is a genius idea!” the woman said. She continued to note different things to the gentleman standing with her.
Sydney turned to them and leaned close.
“Honestly,” she said to the man with the woman. “Modernizing a historic structure this aggressively feels, I don’t know…wrong? It cheapens the legacy of the history of the building. Some designers don’t understand that.”
Vic narrowed his gaze on Sydney. What the hell was she doing?
“She’s an architectural designer. I don’t think that is the same as an architect,” Sydney added with a devious smile. “Sometimes it shows.”
Vic couldn’t respond. He couldn’t because his eyes were on her.
Tachina.
Her gown was a deep emerald that hugged her waist. The color glowed against her tawny-brown skin. Her hair fell in curls that framed her face. Her lips shined, and her eyes were bright. She looked happy.
And she was not alone.
A tall guy, with a clean cut, broad shoulders, with dark-brown skin stood next to her with an arm placed strategically behind her to keep her close to him as they walked into the room.
A date.
Vic felt as if someone had punched him the stomach.
The man leaned in close to Tachina and whispered something in her ear. She laughed. Vic could hear the melodic sound from where he stood. She patted the man on his chest as they paused in front of one of the renderings.
Why did this bother him so? It wasn’t like they were dating. He smoothed a hand along his jawline. Just this past week, Tachina had been spread out underneath him, taking his cock, begging for him to fill her with his seed.
Who the fuck was this?
“Who are you staring at?” Sydney asked. She followed his gaze. “Oh. Her.”
He didn’t honor Sydney with any reactions. Instead, he walked straight toward Tachina and her date.
Sydney slipped her arm through his. He didn’t shake her off fast enough. They reached Tachina, and it was too late.
Tachina’s gaze dropped to Sydney’s hand curled around his arm. Something flickered in her eyes, but it disappeared just as fast as it had appeared.
“Evening,” Vic said.
“Hello,” Tachina murmured. She offered a small smile. “This is Charles Lindsey. He’s—”
“Her date,” Charles interjected. He extended his hand.
“Victor Maxwell.” Vic took it and matched his firm grip.
Sydney stepped forward and flashed a smile. “I’m Sydney Bridges. I’m Vic’s girlfriend.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” Vic added.
“Wait, did you say Charles Lindsey, as in county prosecutor?” Sydney’s eyebrows rose sharply.
Vic wasn’t surprised the woman recognized the man’s name. She knew everyone who was someone in this damn town.
“That would be me.” Charles stepped back and slid his arm around Tachina’s waist again. He smiled.
Someone called Tachina’s name from across the room. It was the event organizer, Evelyn Hodge.
Tachina gave Charles an apologetic glance. “Let’s go see what that’s about.”
“It was nice to meet you.” Charles nodded then whisked Tachina away.
Vic’s fist curled involuntarily. He knocked back the champagne he still held in his hand. His gaze trailed the two as they wound their way through the crowded room.
“I still can’t believe you allowed her to design this project.” Sydney smirked.
“Don’t talk about her,” Vic growled. He spun on her and glared at her.
“Vic—”
“That is my son’s mother. You will respect her.” His voice dropped a few decibels.
Sydney had always had it in for Tachina. There was something about Tachina that rubbed Sydney the wrong way. She blinked and opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a harsh look.
“Say another word about her, and I will have you removed from this function.”
He spun from her and stalked off. He headed for the bar where he could get himself a real drink. He flagged down the bartender and placed his order.
Whiskey. Neat.
His drink arrived swiftly. He drank half in one swallow. He needed a minute, maybe five to allow himself to calm down from dealing with Sydney.
But he only got about a minute. He felt her before he even saw her. Tachina moved in beside him and took away all of the air surrounding him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
He glanced over at her, and for one brief moment, it was just the two of them.
“I’m fine,” he lied.