Chapter 3 #2
Thank goodness for the company credit card I’d been given access to for shopping before this trip.
Once I’m freshly showered, with makeup applied and jewelry on, I adjust my dress and gaze out at the mountain. It’s so beautiful it almost hurts my eyes. Maybe I can do this. Maybe it will all be okay.
Right on time, a young woman knocks on my door to escort me to the gala.
I follow her down to the ballroom, the space already filled with people.
They're a sea of immaculate outfits and glittering jewels, multiple languages ebbing and flowing through the crowd. It feels like different parts of my brain latch on to each thread of language until I lock in and center myself. I don’t need to parse through what everyone else is saying.
I just need to translate for Adam, nothing more, nothing less.
I'm led towards a small table where Adam is already seated, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He's talking to an older man with a shock of white hair, but when he sees me, he stops, and his eyes widen slightly.
He excuses himself from the conversation and stands as I approach.
"Elowen," he says, rolling my name over his tongue like an expensive brandy. I shiver.
"Adam.” His suit is perfectly tailored to his body, even his noticeably broad shoulders and thick arms. He looks incredible.
"You look…beautiful."
It's a simple compliment, one that almost anyone would give a woman in their company, but his slight hesitation and the darkness of his pupils as he says it have my mouth going dry. Oh, I’m in trouble.
I really should have reconsidered this job.
Damn you, brain, why did you desert me? Or was it betrayal?
"Thank you," I manage, my smile brittle.
He nods, motioning for me to join him as he makes his rounds.
The gala has only just begun, and now it's time for me to work, stuck to Adam's side like glue. I'm supposed to be little more than a shadow, but Adam brings me to the forefront, introducing me to everyone we meet and making sure I feel included. It’s important to him that I feel like I’m on equal ground, though I’m not sure why it matters.
As we walk through the crowds, people’s heads turn, but I keep busy enough to not let it bother me.
Adam Valmonte never brings a plus one to these things–he never brings anyone, now that Celeste is gone.
And here he is with me, a relative unknown in this world.
Sure, I’m just here for work, but from the outside, nothing about me screams employee.
I keep my head up, my expression neutral. I am a professional. I am here to do a job.
I translate a conversation he has with a German CEO, then another with a French diplomat.
I’m in my element, my brain firing on all cylinders, the words flowing from one language to another with an ease that surprises even me.
Adam is watching me, and it hits me that this is the first time he’s seen me working in person.
It makes pride well up in me, and the next time I catch him looking, I smile back.
Then, a new face cuts through the crowd, and as soon as he comes into our eyeline, Adam tenses.
I can hear him speaking to someone else on his way over–he’s an English speaker, so whatever Adam doesn’t like about him isn’t something that has been lost in translation.
The man has dark, slicked-back hair and a suit that seems a touch loud for an event like this.
"Adam Valmonte," he says, his voice oily smooth. "Always a pleasure."
"Edwin Dubois," Adam replies, his own voice tight but perfectly polite. "I trust you're enjoying the evening."
"Immensely. Though it's just gotten far more interesting." Dubois turns his full attention to me, completely ignoring Adam, and I suppress a shiver of disgust as his gaze climbs up my body from my feet to the top of my head. "And who is this charming creature you've been hiding from us all?"
"Elowen Hart, my translator," Adam’s tone is steely.
"A translator," Dubois repeats, laughing a little to himself. “My, my. You certainly have a…unique way of selecting your staff, Adam. I can see why you chose her.”
He steps closer to me, invading my personal space, smelling of expensive cologne and whatever oil he’s liberally applied to his hair.
"Miss Hart. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Perhaps you could spare a dance for a lonely businessman later?
" He places his palm on my upper arm and runs his fingers down, scratching my skin, then wrapping his hand and squeezing the fleshy part as if testing my biceps. I feel my face blush.
I step away from him. But he does not release his grip. I open my mouth to offer him a polite refusal, but Adam is faster. And less polite.
He steps forward, grabs Dubois by the wrist, and twists the man’s whole arm.
Dubois releases his grip immediately. “Miss Hart does not like to be touched, Edwin. And you know I always protect what is mine.” Adam steps in between Dubois and me.
Dubois grimaces, stares at Adam, smiles at me, then turns away.
Adam places his hand at my lower back, the bare skin of his palm making direct contact with the bare skin of my lower back.
For a fleeting moment I’m self-conscious of the fleshy rolls above my hip bones.
But the heat and firmness of his touch sends a jolt directly up my spine, my core clenching as my awareness of Adam ratchets up to the highest degree.
With this one brief touch, my inconvenient crush has rocketed straight to desire, fierce and undeniable.
I choke back the gasp that tries to escape me, locking my knees so my legs don’t shake too noticeably.
"I should introduce you properly," Adam’s voice has utterly changed, still deep, but possessive in a way I’ve never heard before. The entire ballroom seems to quiet down, the low hum of conversation hushing in our immediate vicinity. "This, ladies and gentlemen, is my fiancé."
The word drops into the room like a bomb. Fiancé.
My mind goes blank. I can't breathe. I can't think. What? I can only feel the searing heat of Adam's hand on my back and the final word he said ringing in my ears.
When I finally rebound back at warp-speed to planet Earth, I whip my head over to Adam, my eyes wide in shock so genuine it’s almost a physical pain. My mouth is slightly agape, but no words come out, and my fingers and toes are tingling. I cannot help thinking to myself, translate this, Elowen.
Dubois’s smug expression vanishes, replaced by a look of sheer disbelief. He looks from Adam's stony face to my stunned one and back again. "Your…fiancé?" he sputters, the smooth sound of his voice gone now. "But...you just said she's your translator."
"My translator," Adam confirms, "and the woman I intend to marry. A fact, I assure you, that has no bearing on our business negotiations." His fingers slide up and down my spine in a gesture that is way, way too casual for our true relationship, but fitting for the new declaration that he’s made. "I hadn’t intended to reveal the state of our relationship until a later date, but I’d rather get it out in the open now instead of letting you, Mr Dubois, or anyone else touch her.
Now, if you'll excuse us, we have other people to greet. "
He doesn't wait for a reply. He turns, guiding me away with a firm hand, leaving a sputtering, speechless Dubois in our wake.
The whispers are everywhere. Fiancé.
Why would he say that? I'm a temp worker. He's a billionaire. We barely know each other. This is a joke. It has to be a joke. Or a plot he’s weaving. A business strategy, maybe? But that could be even worse.
He leads me through a set of ornate doors and into a quiet, empty hallway. The heavy doors swing shut behind us, muffling the sounds of the party. The silence is deafening, pressing against my eardrums.
I finally find my voice.
"What the hell was that?"