Chapter 4 - The Game Begins
"Your... your what?" Ava managed to choke out, her fingers gripping the lapels of Julian’s oversized suit jacket.
Julian’s smile widened just a fraction, reaching his slate-gray eyes.
"Fiancée," he repeated smoothly, his voice pitched so only she could hear over the murmurs of the stunned crowd around them. "Unless, of course, you’d prefer a different title. Wife? Partner? Empress of Vance Capital? I’m flexible, Ava, but given the circumstances, I thought 'fiancée' had a nice, permanent ring to it."
Ava stared at him, her mind spinning.
She had met Julian Vance exactly twice before tonight.
The first time was three weeks ago, when she had delivered an emergency catering order of artisanal coffee and pastries to the executive suite on the fiftieth floor of Vance Tower because the regular secretary had fallen ill. She had been nervous, dropping a sugar packet on the Persian rug, and Julian had simply crouched down, picked it up, and asked her what kind of coffee beans she used for her personal brew.
The second time was ten days ago, when she had been working late in the lobby of the same building, sorting event permits. Julian had walked out of a private elevator at 11:00 PM, seen her eating a cold turkey sandwich at her desk, and quietly asked why an event coordinator was pulling sixteen-hour shifts without overtime approval. When she explained that Bellmere Events was understaffed, he had simply nodded, said “Unacceptable,” and walked out.
She had no idea he even remembered her name, let alone was tracking her movements.
And now, here he was, standing in the middle of the most exclusive charity gala in Manhattan, declaring to the entire New York elite that she was his betrothed.
"Mr. Vance—Julian," Ava whispered, her cheeks burning. "What are you doing? You can't just... you can't just tell people we're engaged! I'm an event coordinator! I clean up orchid arrangements! I'm wearing a stained department-store dress under your $5,000 suit!"
"First of all," Julian murmured, stepping closer so his shoulder brushed hers, shielding her from the sea of gaping faces around them, "that dress is a lovely shade of black, stain notwithstanding. Second of all, do you think I care what these vultures think about your resume?"
He scanned the ballroom with a look of casual disdain.
"Most of the people in this room measure human worth by the size of a trust fund or the prestige of a last name," Julian continued quietly. "I measure it by character. I watched you work sixteen-hour days for a company that treats you like furniture. I watched you carry the weight of an ungrateful parasite through four years of business school only to be discarded when he traded up for an emerald mine. And tonight, I watched you stand your ground against a cowards’ chorus without shedding a single tear."
He looked back down at her, his gaze burning with an intensity that made her knees feel weak.
"You didn't need a knight in shining armor, Ava. You were already fighting your own war. I just wanted to provide a little tactical support."
Before Ava could formulate a coherent response, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted them.
Jonathan Astor, the elderly patriarch of the Astor hotel empire and chairman of the Harbor Children’s Foundation, hurried over, his face flushed with polite anxiety and curiosity.
"Julian! My boy!" Astor beamed, though his eyes darted nervously between Julian and Ava’s stained hemline. "We didn't know you were bringing a guest! And... well, congratulations! An engagement? This is wonderful news! Why didn't you announce it?"
Julian didn't blink. He slid his arm around Ava’s waist, pulling her flush against his side with easy, natural possession. The warmth of his hand through the thick wool of his jacket sent a shiver down her spine.
"It was a very recent development, Jonathan," Julian said smoothly, his voice carrying across the quieted tables. "In fact, it happened about thirty seconds ago. We wanted to keep it private, but spontaneous joy is difficult to contain."
Astor laughed heartily, buying the lie without a second thought. Nobody questioned Julian Vance. If Julian Vance said he got engaged to an assistant event coordinator in the middle of a charity gala, then reality simply bent to accommodate him.
"Splendid! Simply splendid!" Astor declared. "You must join us at the head table for the main course. And my dear—" Astor turned to Ava, his expression softening into genuine warmth. "Please let management know immediately. We will have a replacement gown brought up to the penthouse suite right away. Designer selection of your choice. Compliments of the Astor family."
Ava opened her mouth to protest, but Julian gently squeezed her waist.
"Thank you, Jonathan," Julian said smoothly. "We’ll take you up on that."
As Astor bustled away to field whispers from eager politicians, Ava turned her face up toward Julian, her eyes wide.
"A penthouse suite? Designer gowns?" she hissed under her breath. "Julian, what are you playing at? This is insane. In two hours, the champagne will wear off, the gossip columnists will start digging, and everyone will realize this is some kind of elaborate joke or madness."
Julian looked down at her, a slow, dangerous smile spreading across his lips.
"It’s not a joke, Ava," he murmured, his thumb tracing a slow, deliberate circle against her hip. "And we aren't stopping at a penthouse suite."
He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear.
"Damian Cross thinks he won. He thinks he can discard you, humiliate you, and walk away to a life of luxury built on the foundations you sacrificed your youth to lay. Do you want to let him get away with that?"
Ava froze.
The image of Damian’s smug, laughing face flashed in her mind. The memory of the 3:17 AM text message. The way Victoria Langford had looked at her shoes.
"No," Ava whispered, the word slipping out before she could stop it.
Julian’s smile turned razor-sharp.
"Good," he said softly. "Because tomorrow morning, Sterling North Capital is up for a major corporate restructuring vote. And Damian’s boss just so happens to report directly to my executive committee."
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Julian offered her his arm.
"Shall we go get that drink, my love?"
