Chapter 5 - The Gala Protocol
The grand ballroom of the Jefferson Hotel in Richmond was a sea of shimmering crystal chandeliers, black-tie tuxedos, and silk gowns. The annual Caldwell Foundation Gala was the highest-profile social event of the season, attended by Virginia’s political and business elite.
Clare stood near the back entrance of the ballroom, feeling entirely out of place in her dark navy dress—a simple, modest dress she had pulled from the back of her closet.
She wasn't supposed to be here as a guest. Henry had personally sent a car to her apartment two hours ago with an envelope containing an entrance pass and a short note: “I need a witness.”
Across the crowded floor, Ethan stood amidst a group of senators and corporate executives. He looked magnificent in his tailored black tuxedo, commanding the room with effortless authority. Yet, as he spoke to a wealthy developer, his eyes constantly scanned the room until they landed squarely on Clare standing by the arched doorway.
He excused himself from the group immediately, walking straight toward her.
“You came,” Ethan said, stopping a foot away. The tension in his shoulders seemed to ease slightly at the sight of her.
“Henry insisted,” Clare said, looking around at the lavish decor. “I feel like I sneaked into a movie set.”
“You look stunning,” Ethan said softly, his voice low and sincere.
Clare felt a sudden flush warm her cheeks. “Thank you. Where is Henry?”
Ethan’s smile faded slightly. “He’s upstairs in the private suite. He’s nervous, Clare. He’s been staring at Mother’s portrait for twenty minutes.”
“Can I see him?”
“Please,” Ethan said, offering her his arm. “I think you’re the only one who can get him to step into this room.”
Clare hesitated for a fraction of a second before slipping her hand into the crook of Ethan’s arm. His arm was rock-solid beneath the fine wool of his jacket, and a strange, comforting warmth radiated from him as he led her through the bustling crowd toward the private elevators.
As the elevator doors closed, isolating them from the noise of the party, Ethan looked down at her.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
“For what?”
“For not taking my check on Thursday,” he said, his dark eyes searching hers. “And for giving my father back his spirit.”
“He always had it, Ethan,” Clare said softly. “He just needed someone to remind him how to use it.”
May you like
Ethan stepped half an inch closer, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. The confined space of the elevator felt suddenly electric, the air thick with an unspoken attraction that had been brewing under the surface since that rainy Tuesday night.
Before either of them could speak, the elevator chimed, and the doors slid open to the quiet second-floor corridor.
