Chapter 11 - Holly #2
I nodded, and Hunter fell easily into his swag persona for the night, greeting them warmly and thanking them for their contribution. I chimed in with names, anecdotes, a quick mention of his community work to paint a portrait of the Hunter Callahan everyone expected him to be.
He played along, polite and a little wry. At first, it was nothing more than to indulge me. But as the night wore on, he loosened up and actually started enjoying it.
I pressed a glass of water into his hand as he finished yet another meet-and-greet photo op with a reporter. “You’re doing fine.”
“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it.” He took a sip, then looked at the bottle with a frown. “When did we switch to non-alcoholic?”
“When your cheeks started getting rosier than mine.”
We moved on. Another handshake, another photo. I angled myself between him and a man trying to talk about investments and ushered Hunter toward the dessert table for a break.
“This is wild,” he said under his breath. “I feel like a mannequin you’re parading around.”
“You kinda are,” I said, and fixed his shirt collar. “But don’t worry. It’s just another hour or so and then you’ll be home free.”
For a while, we managed a rhythm of me smoothing introductions, him smiling in the right places.
Every so often we’d step off to the side under the guise of me briefing him, and I’d catch myself noticing how his bow tie had loosened, or how his laugh rolled under the music.
They were little private moments I found myself looking forward to. Like a secret in a crowded room.
I was pulling him aside near the edge of the dance floor to coach him on the next donor when it happened.
A young woman in a glittery silver dress, probably mid-twenties, came up out of nowhere, a champagne napkin in her hand. “I’m a huge fan,” she said breathlessly, eyes on Hunter as she lifted her cell phone. “Could I—?”
He smiled wide, and slid his hand around her waist to pull her closer. “Sure thing, beautiful.”
But I was already stepping in. “Sorry, but we’re not doing unsolicited pictures tonight.”
“We aren’t?” Hunter called me out, but I ignored him so hard it made my eyes burn.
The woman’s smile didn’t falter though, and she pressed the napkin toward him. “My name’s Anna, by the way. Call me.”
Before Hunter could react, I plucked the napkin from her hand and slipped it into my clutch. “Enjoy the gala.”
The woman blinked, then drifted off into the crowd without another word.
“You’re welcome.”
Hunter turned to me slowly. “What was that?”
I tried for nonchalance, but couldn’t be sure I was hitting it with the tension suddenly seizing my shoulders. “Saving you from yourself.”
“From a hot fan who wanted to give me her number?”
“From a PR disaster,” I corrected, shifting my clutch to the other hand.
His eyes stayed on me, sharp as ever. “I’m a hockey player, not a monk. And hot women are part of the benefits package.”
I forced a light laugh. “You really think that would end well? Pictures, gossip columns, angry sponsors dropping you to avoid scandal?”
He didn’t look convinced. “Sure, that’s the reason.”
“Look, I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I said, already moving on. “You have to make small talk with those buyers over there before you call it a night.”
He blocked me gently with his arm. “Holly.”
“What?” I looked up at him, heart ticking faster. Afraid everything I felt was written on my face.
“What are you doing?” His voice was quiet but insistent. “What was that really about?”
Shit.
Also, fuck.
Because how did I begin to answer that question when I didn’t know the answer myself?
“Bowchicka-wowzer!”
I turned right into Bob, looking at me like he’d have me for dinner. It made my skin crawl.
“Hi, Bob.”
He licked his lips, and it took the last of my resolve to keep from gagging in his face. “I had no idea you were hiding all of this…” He waved a hand in the general direction of my body. “...underneath those stuffy suits you’re always wearing. Looks good on you, Holly.”
“Did you want something?” I asked, feeling the warm rush of irritation on the back of my neck.
Bob hooked his arm through mine. “Mind if I steal you away for a moment?”
I glanced at Hunter, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “Excuse me,” I murmured, and let Bob lead me away.
He guided me toward a quieter corner near a towering floral arrangement. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, which made it all seem a lot more sinister than it should’ve been.
“You’ve been doing good work,” he said, keeping his voice to a whisper. Maybe just so he’d have to lean in close. I didn’t put it past him. “Sponsorships, the gala, the incident with Trey. Expertly handled.”
“Thank you,” I said evenly. “That’s what you hired me for.”
“Of course,” he replied. Then he leaned in more, lowering his voice further. “But you need to be careful, Holly. I don’t need to tell you about the importance of brand control.”
My spine stiffened. “Careful?”
“People are talking.” He gestured vaguely toward the room. “About you and Callahan.”
“What about us?”
“That maybe you’re a little too invested,” he said. “If you catch my meaning.”
My mouth went dry. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” His smile sharpened and turned his gaze even more predatory. “Intercepting napkins from women? Hovering like a jealous girlfriend? People notice things. And sponsors don’t like scandal. Neither does the big boss.”
“I’m doing my job,” I said, but it came out thin and weak. “I’ve been nothing but profe–”
“Just… watch yourself.” He straightened, looking around as if expecting to find someone lurking. “You don’t want rumors to get ahead of the work you’ve done. Would be a shame if management started questioning your ethics.”
He gave me one last tight smile and disappeared into the crowd.
I stood there for a moment, my heart hammering.
Across the room, Hunter caught my eye. He was laughing at something Theo had said, but there was curiosity in his gaze. I gave him nothing but a stiff nod and turned away, face burning with the things Bob had just said.
If he knew anything about me, he’d know I would never jeopardize a client relationship by getting overly personal. He’d know my record spoke for itself.
I grabbed a fresh drink from a passing waiter’s tray and downed it in one. I’d never had issues with ethics in the past. Nor would I in the future.
I discarded my empty glass on the bar and returned to the party, pressing the napkin deeper into my clutch until it crumpled.