5. Grant

Chapter 5

Grant

As I stand here, surrounded by men I've probably done business with a thousand times, I can confidently say that this is the most absurd and out of place I have ever felt. Everyone is disguised, their faces hidden behind elaborate, elegant masks, but it only takes minutes to recognize my Chief Financial Officer and the CEO of Burke Technologies, my main competitor. While they drink, they join a group of men in suits, whom I recognize as the former mayor, a senator, and the current Secretary of State.

"What the hell kind of place is this?" My piercing gaze fixes on Gareth, but my view is obstructed by the fancy mask one of the hostesses insisted I wear as soon as we entered the club. Although it's light, the implication of shielding my face weighs heavily on me, adding to my sense of discomfort.

Almost every man here is in their thirties or forties, each one hoping to exude an air of importance while they buzz around the few females in attendance, like predators stalking their prey. None of the women look old enough to drink, but my brother assures me twenty-one is the minimum age.

"Let go for once. You're always so tightly wound—I'm amazed you haven't had a heart attack yet." Gareth leads us into the main lounge, where a small crowd parts like the Red Sea before us.

Masked men dressed to impress study me intently, likely trying to piece together my identity. My unease intensifies. Despite the club's strict policy on confidentiality, I can't help but fear that my appearance here will become the talk of the industry come Monday morning.

"I'm here for approximately forty-five more minutes." I lift my wrist to double-check the time, then show him my watch. "I got you back in and paid for this year's fees. My obligation here has been fulfilled." I leave him standing by a small group of women and newcomers like me, then head for the bar, the one place that looks peaceful enough for me to reflect on how I ended up agreeing to this ridiculous situation.

As I enter the dimly lit room, the bartender looks up from polishing a glass and greets me with a warm smile. He gestures for me to take a seat at the mahogany bar and places a crisp white napkin in front of me, emblazoned with elegant gold initials reading "SG". The aroma of aged bourbon and cedarwood fills my nostrils as I settle onto the plush leather stool, ready to drown my humiliation in a glass of expensive liquor.

"I'll have a whiskey neat, the best you have stocked," I say, looking over my shoulder as a young woman approaches, her sequined and feathered mask hiding most of her face. I straighten my posture and gaze in a far-off direction, hoping my aloofness deters her from sitting next to me. As much as I hate to admit it, Gareth is right. I am lonely and wish I could come home to someone I love. But truth be told, I already know who I want, and this is not the place I'll find her.

The young woman's voice quivers with nervousness as she leans into the bar, her eyes fixed on the bartender. She sits at least seven stools away from me, her body language closed off and disinterested. Despite this, her words catch my attention. "This will sound childish, but can you make me a Shirley Temple?" she asks, checking behind her to see if anyone is standing nearby to judge her.

The bartender nods with a smile. "I'll get you whatever you want. Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass of wine? Everything is on the house." He leans forward in a flirtatious manner that unsettles me.

There's no reason his intentions should annoy me. I don't know her. Plus, he's an attractive man and much closer to her age than the men who have likely followed her around all evening. There's just something about her that utterly intrigues me.

While I nurse my whiskey, suddenly hoping to prolong my stay, I try not to look, sitting face forward, though my eyes are drawn to my periphery. She reminds me of Ella, but with a more mature and sexier air.

What in the world is happening to me? I'm not easily drawn to anyone and yet I'm utterly enthralled. Every inch of her, from the way she moves to the subtle way she bows her head with shyness, holds my attention. Though her face may be hidden, I am fixated on every detail that I can see.

But it isn't about her. Deep down, I want her to be Ella. If she were here, would I finally take a chance to make her mine? Maybe I would and I should be ashamed of myself. But I don't feel an ounce of guilt.

The stunning woman shakes her head, letting out a soft giggle as her cheeks start to turn pink. "As much as I love wine, I prefer not to impair my senses in a place like this. I have a feeling that the men here won't handle rejection well and I'm not used to strangers being so forward. And honestly, there's nothing else that appeals to me." Her tone is gentle and uncertain, as if she fears being criticized for her choice.

I inwardly applaud her street smarts, impressed by her quick thinking and sharp instincts. The atmosphere around us is tense and unpredictable, filled with people who can't be trusted. Although I wish Ella were here, I'm glad she isn't. This is no place for someone as fragile and innocent as her. This feral crowd would eat her alive.

My fists involuntarily clench at the thought of anyone giving Ella a hard time, but I'm quickly struck with a pang of disappointment. I know I won't have the opportunity to rough up anyone in her defense. I'm not myself around her. There's an undeniable pull toward her, a fierce primal desire to protect and prove myself worthy in her presence.

As I sip my whiskey, I fight against the overwhelming urge to ask the masked woman's name. But that becomes unnecessary when I feel her approach and a magnetic pull draws my attention toward her.

My heart races as she steps closer, her presence radiating with grace and beauty. The air carries the scent of her perfume, and it lingers around me, filling me with a sense of comfort, like I've inhaled that aroma before. Her gaze meets mine and I am lost in the depths of her eyes, soft green and familiar, so beautiful, I'm unable to tear my gaze away. Time seems to stand still as we share this moment, our connection growing stronger with each passing second.

As she speaks, her voice is like music, enchanting and hypnotizing, nearly bringing me to tears. I'm completely captivated and everything else fades into the background.

It's Ella.