Chapter 11
VALENTINA
“Val, the ice is getting low,” one of the waitresses whispers to me in passing.
I nod and pass the task off to my catering director. Tonight is going well, and that’s not by accident. I’ve made sure I’m ready to mitigate any disaster that comes our way. There is nothing I haven’t prepared for.
Besides the aftereffects of sleeping with Sebastian, of course.
God, I hate feeling this distracted when I need to be focused on the event.
I’m doing my best to ignore him, but I clock every single place he’s in, trying not to let our paths cross.
I wasn’t lying earlier. I do have this completely under control, as long as I don’t think of him or acknowledge him in any way. It gets harder as the night goes on.
An hour before the gala started, I slipped into a supply closet to change into the black dress I’d brought for the evening.
I don’t always dress up this much for my events, and I told myself I was only doing it because of the caliber of clientele.
That was, of course, a lie. I knew I’d look good managing the event in this dress, and I wanted Sebastian to see me looking good.
I bought the dress long before I decided to sleep with him.
My makeup is light and professional, but I know it accentuates my features. I’ve spent years perfecting this look, and I know exactly the effect it has on men. Part of me wishes I could put a paper bag over my head so I wouldn’t be so aware of the way his eyes linger on me from across the room.
“Veronica says the canapés aren’t going out on schedule,” Tessa tells me halfway through cocktail hour. “And Bruce says the photo carpet has a crazy line.”
I groan internally.
“We have three photographers there. Tell Bruce to make sure the guests aren’t stopping at every single one. You get one photo tonight. This isn’t the Oscars. I’ll deal with the canapés. I already have to tell Veronica we’re running low on ice at the bar.”
She nods and scurries off to deal with our front door coordinator.
“Oh, T,” I call after her. She rushes back. “Also remind the guests that the photo line will be up all night. They can grab a cocktail now and wait for the line to die down.”
She nods. “As long as the canapés go out on schedule.”
I smirk. “I somehow feel like one solution will fix the other.”
We head off in separate directions, and I check on what’s happening with catering. Veronica was one of my first contacts in this business, so I trust her with my life. There’s no way she’s the reason we’re having issues.
“I can’t work with this fucking guy.” She gestures at her assistant when I reach her. “Who the hell hired him?”
I put my hands on her shoulders and force her to take a breath. “You did,” I remind her. “Because your business is booming and you needed the help.”
“He doesn’t do anything I need him to do,” she gripes, “and he’s always asking questions.”
“This is his first event with you,” I remind her. “We knew there’d be growing pains, and he’s not a mind reader. Are you expressing your frustrations to him, or just hoping he anticipates your needs?”
“That was part of the job description!” she nearly shouts.
I glance behind me to make sure no guests are in earshot.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say calmly. “We’re going to keep him on the bar tonight because this event is too important for any issues. You’re in charge of all the waiters and the kitchen.”
She nods. “I’m sorry, Val, I really thought he’d be a help tonight.”
“It’s okay, Ronnie,” I assure her. “Everything is going fine, we just need to get these trays moving on schedule so the guests don’t get hungry. Once the dinner starts, everything will be fine.”
She nods and turns toward her new assistant. She breaks the news that he’ll be overseeing the bar, and I can tell by his expression he isn’t taking it well. Unfortunately, it’s not my job to soften the blow. I probably have fifty other little disasters waiting for me, and ego is not in my purview.
I leave the staging area and run into the keynote speaker. He’s already on his third cocktail, don’t worry I’ve been keeping count, and his words are starting to slur as he practices his speech to himself. I need to get some food in him before he blacks out.
“Mr. Brighton,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. A man like this requires a lot of ass-kissing. “We’re so excited to hear your speech tonight. How are you feeling?”
“Never better,” he says, a little too slowly, like the words are sticking to his tongue.
“I’m so glad to hear that.” I smile. “Is there anything I can get you? A coffee? Maybe a plate of hors d’oeuvres?”
At that very moment, his stomach grumbles loudly.
“Could you?” he asks. “I haven’t seen any trays come my way.”
“For you, Mr. Brighton, I could have a dinner plate made early. Whatever you need, I’m here to provide.”
He smiles even wider. “Well, that’s very nice of you, dear.”
I hold back an eye roll at the condescension. He’s a man of a certain age, and he’s been a big-ticket seller for this event, so I accept his small dose of misogyny and move along. I’ll have a great time debriefing with Gia later.
I have Veronica fire up a plate for him, then station myself at the corner of the room to make sure the rest of the appetizers are circulating on schedule. Finally, cocktail hour comes to an end. There’s no line at the photo wall, and guests trickle through whenever they want.
I pass a couple admiring the decorations and smile to myself, specifically when they say how much nicer the gala looks this year compared to last. It’s the little wins that get me through events like this.
A prickle runs up my neck, and I turn toward the head table.
Sebastian is sitting there with Mr. Brighton, his cousin Matteo, and a few of the biggest donors.
He’s mid-conversation with someone, but his eyes are on me.
The room tunnels until we’re the only two people in it, and I have to remind myself this is a work event.
I can’t strip naked and offer myself to him on one of the catering platters.
Instead, I nod to him, and he raises a glass to me.
I curse the butterflies in my stomach. He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on me, especially now.
The whole point of sleeping with him was to get him out of my system, not make my infatuation worse.
My cheeks flush, and I just need a moment to myself.
I step out onto a nearby balcony and take a deep breath. It’s the first moment I’ve had to myself since I woke up this morning, and I relish the slight sharpness of the air. It slows my thoughts down and reminds me of what’s truly important.
I’m great at my job. I’m killing tonight.
Once this event is over, I’ll only have to make polite conversation with Sebastian on the rare occasion Nico invites him over.
I can put him out of my head entirely and keep focusing on growing my business.
Who knows how many clients I’ll land from tonight?
My entire future spreads out in front of me, vast as the LA skyline. And Sebastian isn’t part of it.
“Val, I’m so sorry to bother you, but the firework guy can’t find his fuse,” Tessa says from behind me.
I bow my head and take a deep breath. Back to work.
The night winds to a close as final remarks wrap up and guests file through for gift bags. I meet my staff in the kitchen while we indulge in our favorite post-event ritual, divvying up the leftover dessert.
“Tonight was incredible, everyone,” I tell them. “I threw you to the wolves with this one, and you rose to the occasion perfectly. Get ready, because there’s going to be a lot more of this.”
To my chagrin and embarrassment, they all start applauding me, and I finally do allow myself to roll my eyes.
“Get out of here,” I tell them. “Enjoy some well-deserved rest.”
I leave the catering team to pack up and head back into the ballroom.
I take one last look at the room before the hotel staff pulls it all down.
Empty plates and half-burned candles everywhere are all signs of a well-run event.
My feet ache and my brain hurts, and all I can possibly process is sinking into a hot bubble bath and sleeping for the next two days.
Part of me is a little disappointed that Sebastian doesn’t stay behind to congratulate me, but I refuse to acknowledge that part. This wasn’t his success. It was mine. If anything, I pulled this off in spite of him, and I’m damn proud of it. I’m finally free of his anal-retentive tendencies.
I walk through the now-quiet hotel, smiling to myself the whole way to the car. I toss my bag in the trunk and sink into the front seat, exhausted. I’m about to put the car in reverse when I notice something on the windshield.
“Goddamnit,” I curse. I groan as I climb out of the car and walk around the front. My whole body is sore from standing all night, and my feet are absolutely protesting this unscheduled movement.
None of that matters when I see what’s been left for me. The single white rose turns my entire body cold, and I can’t feel anything but abject terror. There’s only one person who’s ever given me white roses. Even then, he knew I hated them.
Underneath the rose is a note. I don’t want to read it. I want to rip it to shreds and run over the pieces, but I grab it with shaking hands and hold it up to read.
Great work tonight, babe.
Simple enough, but it turns my stomach. I look behind me, sure he’s going to be standing there, watching my reaction as I take in the words. Not just the words, but also the knowledge that he was here. He watched me tonight. How could I have missed him?
No. That’s not the right question. He wouldn’t let himself be seen if he didn’t want to be. That would’ve ruined his whole surprise. He gets off on my fear.
I crumple the rose in my hand and stomp it on the ground, crushing the petals under my foot. It isn’t much, but it gives me some semblance of control. It’s literally all I have.
Then I do rip up the note, but I keep the pieces until I can find a trash can. It isn’t until I’m back in the car that I realize my finger is bleeding. I must’ve caught it on one of the thorns.