MRS. WEST

𝔽𝕃𝔸𝕊ℍ𝔹𝔸ℂ𝕂

If there was one thing my father loved more than business, it was making me attend business parties.

It was unbelievable how many times Dad had dragged me to one of these stupid business parties I wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. He'd only brought me along because he wanted to show everyone the "next future entrepreneur."

Whatever it was, I probably wasn't going to take over West Holdings after Dad. It wasn't my idea to be in the business realm.

I was probably going to pursue baseball.

I couldn't tell Dad that–never-gosh, he'd kill me if I ever told him I wasn't going to be the next businessman.

Which is why I've agreed to going to one of these parties again.

A conversation would probably go a little something like this:

"No son of mine is throwing away an empire to chase a game."

"But I love it."

"You'll grow out of it."

"I don't think I will."

"You will."

My mom was back at home. Our maid, Nancy, was taking care of her since she was pregnant with my baby sister.

"Alright, don't forget. When you walk in, smile and shake hands. I'll do the talking part." Dad told me. We were in the limo, just ready to round a parking space.

I smiled slightly, giving him a small nod.

Dad stepped out of the limo first. "Remember. Smile, and shake hands."

"Don't embarrass me."

I rolled my eyes before following him inside.

It was bright, and big. But nothing I wasn't used to. There were fancy people everywhere, all in ties, suits, dresses and fancy heels.

I was wearing a crisp black suit with dress pants and a dark navy blue tie. My hair was gelled back. Dad said it looked professional.

And whatever he says, I do.

Dad walked like he owned the building. Maybe because he practically did.

Not this one specifically, but judging by the number of people who immediately abandoned their conversations the second he stepped inside, you'd think he'd built the place brick by brick.

"Ralph!"

"Good to see you!"

"It's been too long."

He smiled that polished business smile I'd seen a thousand times growing up.

"Harold."

"Michelle."

"James."

His handshake never changed. It was firm and confident. Just long enough. I stayed half a step behind him like he'd taught me years ago.

"Ralph."

A silver-haired man I'd probably met before reached us first.

Dad smiled. "Thomas. Good to see you."

His hand landed lightly against my shoulder.

"And this..." He looked toward me proudly. "...is my son."

"Cameron. The future of West Holdings."

"It's nice to meet you, sir." I smiled anyway.

Thomas shook my hand with both of his. "I've heard wonderful things."

"I hope they're true."

He laughed loudly.

"Oh, I like him already."

Dad gave me an approving nod. One conversation down. Approximately three hundred more to go.

The next twenty minutes blurred together into a parade of expensive watches, expensive cologne, and people whose names I knew I'd forget before dessert.

"This is Cameron. Future CEO. Next generation of the West family."

"Bright young man."

"He'll do great things."

Every introduction sounded exactly the same. I smiled, shook hands, and asked about their trip. Their families, their businesses.

It came naturally enough. People liked talking. Mostly, they liked talking about themselves. All I had to do was listen and that made me charming.

A woman in a champagne-colored gown pinched my arm gently. "Oh, Ralph. He's gotten so handsome."

Dad chuckled. "I try not to let it go to his head."

"I don't think that'll be a problem."

"You'll have girls lining up." Another woman smiled at me.

"You think I'm one?" The second woman whispered.

They laughed.

Was it normal to say their conversations about me made me uncomfortable?

This is what Dad does, right?

I laughed too, because that's what you did. But really, I wanted to find the appetizer table. Dad pulled me toward another group.

"And this is.."

I recognized exactly one face.

"...Mr. Harrison." I finished.

"It's an honor." We shook hands.

He began explaining something about international investments, or mergers. Maybe acquisitions.

Honestly, somewhere around the second mention of quarterly projections, my brain excused itself from the conversation.

That's when I saw her.

She sat alone near the edge of the ballroom. There were dozens of round tables scattered across the room, and every single one buzzed with conversation.

Except hers. She was alone.

She sat with remarkable posture, one leg crossed neatly over the other. Dark red dress. Her hair had been pinned into an effortless-looking updo that probably wasn't effortless at all.

A few curls framed her face.

She wore dark heels that matched the dress almost perfectly.

How had I never seen this gorgeous lady before?

She simply watched the room, studying everyone.

Huh.

Something about that made me smile.

"West." Dad's voice snapped me back.

"Hm?"

"Did you hear what Mr. Harrison said?"

I stared at Mr. Harrison blankly. "...Yes."

"Good, repeat it." Dad looked at me expectantly.

My casual smile quickly faltered.

Mr. Harrison politely looked away, pretending not to notice.

I searched my memory. Quarterly...something. Markets, numbers?

Nothing came to me quick enough.

"I..."

Dad's smile never disappeared. But I knew that look-the one only I recognized.

You're embarrassing me. His face read.

"I don't remember the last part." I finally settled.

Mr. Harrison laughed kindly. "Happens to all of us."

Dad laughed with him, though it wasn't carefree. "It certainly does."

But as soon as we stepped away from the conversation, his voice dropped. Quiet enough that only I could hear.

"Cameron."

"I'm sorry." I look down.

"I didn't ask for an apology. I asked you to pay attention."

"I was."

"No. You were looking for God knows what."

I rubbed the back of my neck.

"I got distracted."

"So I noticed," His jaw tightened just slightly. "When we're here..you're representing this family."

"I know."

"Do not embarrass me, West."

"I won't."

He studied me another second before continuing through the ballroom. I followed, but every few steps, my eyes drifted back.

She hadn't moved. She accepted a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter, thanked him with a small, polite smile.

Then went right back to watching everyone else.

Who was she?

She clearly belonged here.

Her dress alone probably cost more than my first baseball glove, but she didn't act like everyone else.

As if sensing it, she turned her head.

Our eyes met. But only for a second. Long enough for me to realize her eyes were darker than I'd thought from across the room, and also long enough for her to catch me staring.

Smooth, West.

Real smooth.

Naturally, I looked away first.

My ears warmed.

Now I'd managed to look like every other idiot at the party staring at the pretty girl. I cleared my throat, and tried paying attention to Dad again.

"...and Cameron here plays baseball."

"Really?" One of the men smiled. "What position?"

"Pitcher. And center field."

"That's impressive."

I smiled automatically. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I was already wondering if I'd see the girl in the red dress again before the night was over.

I answered another question about baseball before Dad could redirect the conversation.

"It's my favorite part of the week," I admitted.

"We've got regionals next month."

One of the older men smiled. "Think you'll make state?"

"I'd like to."

"You will," Dad corrected smoothly. "He doesn't lose often."

"That's a lot of pressure." I laughed quietly.

"It should be."

Dad rested a hand against my shoulder. "Pressure creates diamonds."

I smiled because that was easier than arguing. The conversation drifted back toward business almost immediately.

Every few seconds I'd nod like I understood far more than I actually did.

But truthfully, I was thinking about tomorrow's practice. Coach Jules wanted me to work on my curveball. Ben still couldn't hit one.

I couldn't wait to watch him complain about it.

"...Cameron?"

"Yeah?" I looked up quickly.

"Mr. Sullivan asked where you're planning to attend college." Dad looked at me, disappointed.

"Oh," I cleared my throat. "I'm still deciding."

"Business?" Mr. Sullivan asked.

Dad answered before I could. "Oh, definitely."

I smiled. "...Definitely."

My eyes wandered. There she was again, sitting at the same table.

She'd crossed one ankle over the other now, absentmindedly tracing circles around the rim of her water glass with one finger.

Every once in a while she'd glance toward a different conversation, almost as if she were studying everyone instead of listening.

She fascinated me.

I want to know more.

It wasn't hard for me to get girls. I've had a couple girlfriends in highschool, but they never really lasted so long.

Dad became engrossed in conversation with a man I'd never seen before. They immediately started discussing acquisitions.

Perfect.

Just my chance.

I slowly took one step backward. Nobody noticed. Another step, and still nothing.

Dad had launched into something involving overseas investors. He wasn't going to miss me for another minute.

Maybe two, if he was pretty invested. I slipped through the crowd.

A waiter walked past carrying sparkling water and champagne. I grabbed two glasses of sparkling water. I wasn't brave enough to approach a girl empty-handed.

As I got closer, she noticed me almost immediately. Of course she did-she seemed like the type who noticed everything.

I stopped beside her table. "Hi."

"...Hi." She looked up.

Her voice was calmer than I expected. I don't know why I thought she was so intimidating.

Probably because her beauty was intimidating.

"For you."

I held one of the glasses out.

She looked from the drink to me, then back to the drink.

"No, thank you, I'm already drinking one."

I looked down at the table.

She was right. Her glass was still half full.

Smooth, West.

Very smooth.