NINE
Levi
The party is surprisingly tame so far. After wishing Cece’s parents a happy anniversary, things have settled down.
I haven’t seen either of my parents stir chaos yet, which feels suspicious.
My mother hasn’t even interacted properly with the two of us since we first walked in.
But I do see her enacting her usual theater of polite ignorance—this time directed toward Iris and Grace Miller.
She’s laying it on thick, pretending to be enchanted by everything they say while deliberately mispronouncing Iris’s name and referencing the wrong school.
I was there during introductions. The exchange had been stilted—icy in the most poised, diplomatic, Astor way. Iris hadn’t let a flicker of discomfort show, and I had told myself not to read into it.
But now, Cece and I are deep in conversation with Jared Carmichael—the man who practically owns half of Manitoba.
“Oh Jared, that doesn’t necessarily mean downsizing,” Cece says breezily. “You could look into an asset reallocation strategy. Maybe explore a leaseback model for your non-core holdings?”
She sounds bright, confident. And I want to pay attention, I really do—but my focus is already drifting. Because I see my mother.
She’s finally dislodged herself from Grace and Iris, floating toward us with her champagne glass and trademark smile sharpened into a blade.
“You know what? That actually might work—” Jared starts.
“Jared, my dear,” my mother cuts in smoothly, slipping right into the circle, “how’s little Benjamin? I hear he’s ten now?”
Jared blinks. “Uh, he’s six.”
And he’s Felix—not Benjamin, I want to say.
“Oh, just a giant then.” She laughs, tapping his shoulder lightly. “They grow so fast, don’t they?”
“Still watches Paw Patrol, Odette,” Jared replies dryly, but smiles.
“Adorable,” she beams, then swings her attention to my Cece, and my stomach tightens like it’s bracing for some poorly disguised vitriol. All while Jared widens his eyes at me and slips away unceremoniously.
“And you, Celestine? How are you, my dear? I heard you got the Jennings deal secured in Toronto?” My mother’s voice is teeth-grindingly sweet.
I also hate it when she deliberately chooses to call her Celestine instead of Cece. You’d think she would relent after being called out a million times.
Before I can correct her yet again, my woman nods with that courteous smile she wears like armor, ignoring the jab.
“I did. Learning from the best.” She points at her father, Samuel Wentworth.
“Mmm, yes,” Odette hums, her gaze flicking to Cece’s hair. “You look beautiful tonight, though. Such lovely hair. If it were just a few more inches longer—” She reaches out, fingers hovering near her hair, and I see Cece flinch. Just barely. But it’s enough for me butt in.
I step forward as I grab her wayward hand, voice sharp. “Mother, stop that.”
She startles, laughing like it’s all been a joke. “Oh, come now. I was only saying… Celestine’s hair is so beautiful. It would look even more stunning longer. That’s all I meant.”
“Christ, Mom,” I mutter, jaw clenched. “For the last time, it’s Cece. And can you just can it for tonight?”
Her eyes narrow, the smile finally slipping. She huffs, straightens her posture, and levels a final glance—no, a glare—at Cece before turning toward the bar with the grace of someone pretending she didn’t just lose. “I need a refill.”
Cece lets out a small breath once she’s blended into the crowd, her lips curling in a dry, amused smirk. “I think she loves me, Levi.”
I sigh, still feeling slighted about how my mother never tends to behave properly with Cece.
“Yep. She’s obsessed,” I murmur back and drop a quick peck to her smirk.
The evening moves on. Cece and I drift apart as the social dance begins. Networking. Mingling. Trading practiced laughs and firm handshakes.
At some point, this night becomes less about the anniversary and more about the impending merger.
I catch sight of Taewon off to the left, mid-conversation with Iris. His expression’s tense, his arms folded—classic Tae in a heated debate. For a second, I consider intervening, maybe smoothing whatever rough edge he has hit. But I hold back. Tae can handle himself.
My gaze shifts again, and then I see her.
Across the room, Cece is talking to her sister, Vi, head tilted in thought, one hand resting lightly against her side. Her eyes crinkle at something she says, and she laughs—light and unfiltered. Her whole face lit up.
Our eyes lock across the hall, and my chest damn near caves in. She looks so painfully radiant, I almost forget how to breathe. The moment I picked her up earlier tonight doesn’t even come close to this.
In that halter-neck cream dress, with her short hair framing her face and lips painted the color of magnolias—she looks like a fucking bride.
And for a split second, I wish I hadn’t screwed up, wish I’d said the right words when she needed them. But she smiles at me like I’m still worth a damn. And thank God for that.
I peel my eyes away from Cece, drag in a breath, and turn just in time to see her father, Samuel, motioning me over.
His wife, Eloise, standing serenely next to him.
With the way she’s holding that champagne flute in her hand, she’s dragging that same unease back into my veins that my mother has mastered.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth,” I say as I join them, back stiff.
I jolt forward when Samuel lands a rather rough slap on my back, laughing. “You made it in time this time, eh?”
I nod, forcing a chuckle. “It’s your daughter’s fault, sir. She made us get ready an hour early.”
Eloise’s expression flickers too fast for me to catch the emotion in it. But she manages to keep that tight smile of hers still plastered. “Well, isn’t that excellent.”
Samuel quickly cuts in. “How’s the Coquitlam expansion going? I heard there were some issues. Did Victor not come through?”
Victor Beadle is the current owner of the massive Coquitlam Complex. And friends with the man asking me if I’ve somehow managed to destroy their longstanding relationship. Fortunately, not yet.
“It’s going.” I give a non-answer. “The logistics are yet to be straightened out. But we’re getting there.”
He nods, satisfied. Then his face changes dramatically, beaming at whoever is behind me.
Her familiar comforting scent wraps around me as her dainty hand slips under my bicep.
“Cece, sweetheart.” Samuel smiles warmly at her. “I asked them to add the potato-cheese fritters from that Indian place you like. Did you find them?”
Potato-cheese fritters? Isn’t that Vivienne’s favorite?
“Yeah, Dad.” She chuckles softly and nods. “That’s the first thing Vi asked for from the staff.”
Smooth, Cece.
Nothing in her words implied that her own parents had mistaken Vi’s favorite starter as hers. And all that effortless maneuver so that their expression doesn’t shutter with surface-level guilt.
I haven’t seen her interact with her parents much. And it’s not for the lack of trying. She rarely wants to visit them. A simple evening with them is something she treats like a chore.
I’m beginning to understand her more now. And we’re cut from the same damn mulberry silk, it seems.
So I hold her closer through the rest of our stilted conversation, and it becomes even more labored after a few minutes. Enough that Cece excuses herself to the washroom politely.
And I end up reluctantly joining my father. He’s standing with Gareth—my uncle and longtime shareholder of Astor Holdings. Three scotches in, if the flush in his cheeks is anything to go by. Gareth is the more outwardly genial of the two, which makes him twice as dangerous.
I force my feet forward.
“Levi,” my father says, barely glancing at me. “Didn’t think you’d manage to show up on time for once.”
What the hell?
I’m not that unpunctual, am I? Or is this a new undermining tactic of these faux-elites, and I’ve missed that class somehow?
I roll my eyes when Gareth chuckles irritatingly.
“How are you liking the party?” I ask flatly, grabbing a drink from a tray that floats past.
“Predictable,” my father mutters. “Except for your mother trying to pretend she doesn’t know who Karla Benedict is. Painful to watch.”
“She’s nothing if not committed to her delusions,” I supply, smoothly slipping back into my reluctant acquiescence.
Gareth lifts his glass. “To Odette. The grand actress of the family.”
Indeed. With the way she acted around Iris, I am almost certain she knew her before.
We all take a sip, and for a second, the silence feels almost normal. But then Gareth leans in just a touch. “I was surprised to hear about the delay with Miller-Moore,” he says smoothly. “Heard the merger’s been messier than expected.”
This again.
I want to tell him it’s because of their interference with the Coquitlam deal, that we’re near floundering. But I can’t be rocking the boat this early. “It’s under control,” I reply too fast.
“Oh, I’m sure it is.” Gareth smiles faintly, but his eyes stay sharp. “Just odd. Astor Capital’s usually pristine in transitions like these.”
“Transitions can be hard,” my father adds, his gaze now directly on me. “Even though I reached out to Miller-Moore to help with this, it can take time. Especially acquisitions like these.”
“It’s a merger, dad” I say, swallowing a sudden tightness in my throat. “And it’s going smoothly.” But then I register his words.
He reached out to Miller-Moore?
“I doubt it,” Gareth says, too casually. “The financial hit Astor is taking is harder than what Wentworth would face. That’s what concerns me.”
That lands wrong. My fingers tighten around the glass. “Something you want to say, Uncle?”
“Not at all,” he says, chuckling again. “Just seems… there’s been chatter lately. That the merger’s operational cost is going to harm Astor more than them.”
Wentworths.
My pulse kicks up. They know, don’t they? Or are trying to blame the merger for financial discrepancies. I can’t know for sure.
“Funny,” I say coolly. “We just went through an internal audit last week. Nothing was flagged.”
“Right. Of course.” Gareth’s still smiling. “Just wanted to make sure you knew people were talking about doubting this.” People. Sure.
A long beat passes. My father swirls his drink, awfully silent.
“You know how these things go, Levi,” Gareth says. “We need to double check the plan. Understand that we can actually go through with the merger. Not have our board doubt us. Or have it create problems for Astor Holdings.”
Christ. They’re almost ten months too late in voicing this. But I have a feeling why they are sowing these doubts in me now. And possibly sowing them elsewhere too.
“Problems,” I repeat. “Like the ones my senior financial analyst is doing everything to avoid?”
“Don’t be glib,” Gareth snaps quietly.
“I’m just saying, if we’re doing our due diligence, hiring a firm to oversee it, and have the green light from both our VP operations—then I’d say you’re talking out of your ass, Uncle Gareth.”
Both men go still. Not overt. Just… still enough to only catch my attention.
Christ, Levi, not the time.
Then Gareth lets out a breathy laugh. “You’ve grown balls since the last board meeting. I’ll give you that.”
“I’ve always had them. You just preferred it when I tucked them away.” I’m baffled by my casual snark that I’ve tried my best to rein in.
Uncle Gareth grins and downs the last of his fourth scotch—presumably. “Well. I’ll let you two talk shop. I think Genna just spotted me, and I’ve been dodging that woman since 2003.”
Yep. Go and forget that you have a wife who’s currently sitting at home waiting for you.
He claps my father’s shoulder, nods once at me, and walks off—his pace unhurried and controlled.
My father turns to me. “You keep pushing him like that,” he says softly, “and you won’t like the next board meeting, Levi. My brother isn’t a forgiving person.”
I stand there, chest tight, drink untouched in my hand. I know they know someone’s poking around their extracurricular activities. And this merger has them both on edge. But threats?
Jesus fucking Christ.
I just need that damn evidence—like yesterday.