Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
sam
“You look like a sexy Bond villain,” Rose said, dramatically placing a hand on her heart as I slipped on my earrings.
“I’m pretty sure that’s not a real compliment.”
“Oh, it is. You’re giving danger, mystery, and just enough cleavage to ruin someone’s life. Probably the CEO’s life.” I turned to face the mirror, smoothing down the black silk dress that clung to me like it had been designed for this exact moment. Floor length and backless.
A soft drape at the front that revealed just a hint of cleavage. My lipstick was the exact shade of classic red he liked, with a little bite. My hair was down, the blowout still fresh.
“Tell me again why I’m going to this?” I asked, mostly to hear someone else say it out loud.
“Because your dad asked. Because Naomi will be there. Because it’s the Hayes Gala and you’re a Hayes, and you work there now.
” Rose said, sitting cross-legged on my bed with a glass of wine like we weren’t about to head into a ballroom full of legacy, expectations, and people who probably thought I still lived in Europe.
“And because I look really good in this dress,” I added, twirling once, just to feel the fabric float around my ankles.
“There it is,” she smirked. But then I caught my reflection again, and the butterflies were back.
Because somewhere across that ballroom would be Theo. And that made things... complicated.
It has been a couple of days since he came to my office, and in my office.
But since then, I don’t know. Something has shifted between us, and I don’t know what it is.
We’ve been working together for almost a month now, and seeing him every day makes me feel things that I don’t know if I want to feel.
Then there’s the teasing, the flirting. “He’s distant,” I said suddenly, walking over to grab my heels. “Like really distant.” Rose cocked her head. “Cold-distant, or… scared-distant?” I sat on the edge of the bed and buckled one strap.
“Professional-distant. Which he should be, I guess. We’re at work.
He’s the CEO. I’m technically his employee.
But... I don’t know. It’s like it meant nothing to him.
The sex, the moments we’ve shared. It’s like he forgot the way he looked at me that night in Paris, and the way he begged me to stay. ”
“You don’t believe that, Sam,” she said softly.
“I don’t want to. He said some things that I now don’t know whether he was just caught up in the moment or meant more.
” I admitted. “But every time he avoids eye contact or keeps things surface-level, I feel like I’m the idiot who caught feelings after one too many orgasms.” Rose laughed.
“Babe. You caught feelings before the second glass of wine. I was there, remember?”
I groaned and flopped back on the bed, careful not to mess my hair. “He’s bossy, smart, and mysterious. And hot in a ‘take-me-on-the-desk’ kind of way. He’s emotionally repressed and probably allergic to intimacy, and yet I want to peel him apart like he’s a damn clementine.”
“You’re not falling for him,” Rose said, moving beside me. “You’re just falling for the idea of someone wanting you back in the way you showed yourself back in Paris.” I looked at her. “You’re terrifying when you’re insightful.”
“I know,” she grinned. “But listen. Whatever this thing is? Fling, crush, slow-burn power play? It doesn’t define you as a woman. And if he’s dumb enough not to want more with you, that’s on him.” I sat up and looked at her. “You think I want more?”
“I think you want someone who sees you. All of you. And maybe Theo does. He’s just too stubborn or scared to admit it.” We stood together, and she helped zip the last bit of my dress.
The Hayes Foundation Gala was the kind of event where every smile was rehearsed, and every champagne glass knew the weight of silent judgment.
“Okay,” Rose whispered under her breath. “This is giving Succession meets the Met Gala.” I grinned. “Welcome to my childhood.”
Susan found us first, of course. “Darling,” she said with that kind of smile that never quite touched her eyes. “You look stunning. So classic.”
Translation: at least I hadn’t embarrassed the family name yet.
“Thank you, Susan. This is my friend, Rose Vell.” Susan blinked, processed, and offered a hand. “Lovely to meet you.” Rose shook it, then stepped back as Naomi appeared beside us in an emerald dress that was practically designed to say I make partner before thirty.
“You brought a friend,” Naomi said to me, giving Rose a polite nod. “Are you a flight attendant too?”
“She’s Rose, and yes, she is,” I said smoothly.
Naomi’s brows rose. “Well, we’re lucky to have you on the ground.
I’m sure all that travel makes you both great with people.
” It wasn’t malicious—not exactly. But it had the crisp tone of someone who never had to hand out peanuts at 30,000 feet.
Rose caught my eye, and I knew she caught it too.
“We are great with people,” I said. “Way better than most.” Naomi turned her attention to someone more useful, an investor, maybe, and Susan was already drifting off to work the room. Max stepped in with a scotch and a tired smile. “Glad you’re here, kid.”
“Someone had to hold the good name,” I said. He chuckled. “Always the sharp one.”
“I brought my friend Rose Vell,” I added, gesturing. “She’s basically family for me.” He offered his hand. “Thanks for keeping this one in line.”
“She makes it a full-time job,” Rose said with a grin.
After some polite chatter and another round of introductions, Rose and I wandered to the edge of the room, claiming two glasses of champagne from a passing tray.
“You weren’t kidding about this crowd,” she said, sipping.
“I meant it when I said you’re the only person I have around that I feel good with,” I said.
“This place is cold without backup. I could use someone like you.” Rose raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering me a job?”
“Maybe,” I said, smiling into my glass. “You’ve got skills. And you studied PR.” She bumped my shoulder. “Throw in business class travel, and I’ll consider it.”
“I’ll talk to HR.”
“Maybe 1A could pull some strings,” she teased, her smirk wicked. I groaned. “Shh, do not call him that here.”
She winked. “Then stop giving your CEO fuck buddy code names.”
“He’s not—ugh. He’s barely speaking to me anyway.”
“Probably because you make silk blouses look like foreplay.”
“Stop,” I whispered through my teeth, laughing.
“You’re not helping.” She linked her arm through mine.
“I’m always helping.” We sipped our champagne and scanned the room.
“Let’s make some power moves,” Rose said, eyes sparkling.
“And pretend I run this place.” I took one more sip and lifted my chin. “Who says you don’t?”
We were mid-way through politely sipping champagne and dodging small talk when Rose stiffened beside me. “Don’t look now,” she said, gripping my arm like a scandalized Victorian woman. “But your sexy fuck buddy boss man just walked in.” Naturally, I looked immediately.
There he was, Theodore Jones, storm cloud in a tux.
The man wore formality like a second skin: clean lines, crisp posture, the quiet authority of someone who didn’t need to speak to command a room.
But it wasn’t just him who made my stomach do that traitorous flutter.
He was with three other people, two of whom I didn’t recognize.
Rose let out a low whistle. “Who is that with him?”
“That’s Harper,” I said, nodding toward the woman on his left. “His assistant. She basically keeps his world spinning. And probably tells him when to eat, go to the bathroom, and all of that.” Rose tilted her head. “She looks like she eats billionaires for breakfast.”
“Oh, she does,” I murmured. “And him?” she asked, eyes landing on the man beside Theo, the one with tousled brown curls, designer stubble, and the kind of cocky smile that said, I flirt with grandmothers and win.
He wore a deep green velvet jacket over a black shirt, no tie, like he got the gala memo and said I’ll do you one better.
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I mean, I’ve heard Theo talk about his best friend, but we’ve never met. Maybe that’s him.”
“Well, if that’s the best friend,” she whispered, “then I need to make some bad decisions tonight.”
“And the girl with them? She is absolutely stunning.” Younger, with big, curious eyes, messy curls, and a floaty dress that made her look like she’d wandered in from an art gallery.
She stuck close to Theo’s side, but not in a romantic way, I think.
She looks protective of him, almost. “No clue,” I said.
“She looks like his sister,” Rose said, squinting. “They have the same eyes and same cheekbones.” I nodded. “True. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”
“Are you nervous?” Rose asked. I took a long sip of my champagne and smiled through it. “Only about everything.” She grinned. “You’ll be fine. You look devastating. That’s all that matters.”
Theo made his way across the ballroom like he owned the damn floor, which, technically, he kind of did tonight. He greeted donors, smiled for photos, and shook hands with a curated balance of power and charm.
When he finally reached us, I was mid-laugh at something Rose had whispered, and his eyes landed on me like he’d been holding his breath since the moment I walked in.
He smiled, lingering a little too long. “Samantha.”
“Mr. Jones,” I said, like it was a toast and a warning. “Allow me to introduce a few people,” he said. “This is Nico.” Nico gave a lopsided grin and tipped an imaginary hat. “Pleasure. I’ve been told I’m the fun one.”
“By whom?” Elena murmured with a teasing smile. “Because that sounds made up.” Theo cleared his throat, a little amused, a little exasperated. “And this is my little sister, Elena.”
“Hi,” Elena said warmly, extending her hand to me. “You’re the legendary Samantha.”
“Oh god,” I muttered, shaking it. “What did he say?”