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It was smart, calculated, I could respect the strategy even if I found the execution somewhat lacking in subtlety,
“Miss Dubois, a moment?” Mason asked, his expression concerned.
Patricia preened at the compliment. “We believe in proper hospitality. It’s a family
tradition.”
“Of course, of course,” Patricia nodded vigorously. “The demands of an empire like his must be constant. How fortunate he has you to represent him so capably.”
The relief on Mason’s face was immediate. He needed this dinner to be perfect–his family’s social standing depended on it.
The chiming sound of a fork against crystal interrupted our conversation. Mason Shaw stood at the head of the room, commanding attention.
Polite applause rippled through the room.
I sipped my champagne slowly, observing the scene with mixed feelings. Beck and Miler were my friends–equals I respected. Yet watching Linda Shaw flutter her eyelashes at Beck for the tenth time made my stomach turn.
The unspoken question hung between us: What would Damien want?
“Speaking of golden tickets,” Miler glanced around the ballroom. “Where’s Damien? I was looking forward to discussing the Singapore proposal with him.”
I clinked my glass against his empty one, smiling. “Indeed.”
Patricia’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly. “How modern. Well, please do let him know he was missed when you speak with him next.”
“I want to thank you all for your patience earlier,” she said graciously. “The brief disruption has been resolved, and I’m grateful for your understanding. It’s moments like these that remind us what truly matters–the people we choose to surround
ourselves with.”
“Are you really?” I asked, arching an eyebrow.
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The question I’d been fielding all evening. I kept my expression neutral despite the growing knot of concern in my stomach. Damien was never late–not to important events like this.
Across the room, Patricia Shaw was making her rounds, stopping to speak with each important guest. Her path was calculated, working her way toward Beck. The woman was nothing if not methodical in her social maneuvers.
“Thank you, Vivienne. I’ll instruct the staff to begin service.”
“Everything is excellent,” Miler replied graciously. “The Shaws know how to welcome guests.”
As we entered the dining room, I couldn’t help but wonder about the other dinner happening across town. Clara Bellweather would be concluding her birthday celebration by now. Had that event gone as planned, or had there been unexpected developments there as well?
I knew what was coming next. The same question everyone had been asking all
evening.
“They want what they want,” I murmured, finishing my champagne. “And they see Beck as their golden ticket into the upper echelons.”
I hesitated. With Beck, I could be more honest than with others. “To tell you the truth, I’m a little concerned. It’s unusual for him to be out of contact for this long.”
“I wanted to check about dinner,” Mason said quietly. “We’ve held the start time as long as possible, but the chef is concerned about the quality of certain dishes if we delay
further.”
Beck nodded to us both and moved away, giving us privacy.
Beck reappeared at my side as we began moving toward the dining room. “Decisive leadership suits you,” he remarked quietly.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s my great pleasure to welcome you all to this special gathering in honor of our distinguished guests, Mr. Beck and Mr. Miler.”
Beck laughed softly. “Is it that obvious? I admire your poise–you make these events look effortless.”
“He’s handling some urgent business overseas. The situation required his personal
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attention,” I explained smoothly. “He sends his deepest apologies and assures me he’ll join us as soon as possible.”
“Seeking asylum?” I asked, smiling.
“He would want us to proceed,” I said firmly. “If he arrives during dinner, he’ll join us without disruption. That’s how he would handle it.”
Miler excused himself to refill his drink, leaving me momentarily alone. I scanned the room, taking in the carefully orchestrated social dance. The Shaws had invited exactly the right people to impress Beck and Miler–influential business leaders, minor celebrities, and old–money families whose presence legitimized their own relatively
recent wealth.
“Miss Dubois.”
I recognized the moment for what it was–a test of my authority, my position. Mason wasn’t merely asking about dinner timing; he was asking if I had the right to make
decisions in Damien’s absence.
As she moved away, I checked my phone discreetly. Still no message from Damien. This wasn’t like him. Even when emergencies pulled him away, he remained in contact
with me. The knot of concern in my stomach tightened.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The Shaws‘ desperation was palpable, their eagerness to forge a connection between Linda and Beck transparent to everyone except, perhaps, themselves.
“Speaking of Damien,” Beck continued, glancing around. “I was surprised not to see him. This seems like exactly the type of event he’d ensure he attended, especially with
the Meridian deal on the horizon.”
Mason Shaw materialized beside them, his attention fixed on Beck like a predator eyeing prey. “My daughter has excellent taste in travel destinations. Perhaps you could advise her on the best accommodations in Monaco? She’s planning a trip this summer.”
“Of course,” I replied.
Miler nodded, accepting my explanation without question. That was the benefit of the position Damien and I had established. When I spoke for him, people listened.
People began to move, but Mason’s eyes found me across the crowd. He excused
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himself from the well–wishers surrounding him and made his way directly to where
Beck and I stood.
“I was hoping to discuss the Asian markets with Damien,” Patricia said, glancing around. “Will he be joining us soon?”
Vivienne’s POV
“You’re certain?” Mason pressed. “He might arrive at any moment.”
Beck nodded, his expression softening. “You always did understand. That’s why Damien and I get along so well, too. No pretense.”
As Mason hurried away, I felt eyes on me from around the room. Everyone had witnessed our exchange, noted my confident directive given without hesitation. They’d seen Mason Shaw–a man who prided himself on his connections to power— defer to my judgment regarding Damien’s wishes.
Her words were honeyed, but I detected the curiosity beneath. Everyone wanted to know exactly what my role was in Damien’s absence–was I merely a placeholder or something more authoritative?
Beck’s eyebrows rose slightly. “That is unlike him. Have you-
“Shall we?” I said to Beck, gesturing toward the dining room. The gathered elite of Boston followed our lead, conversations buzzing with speculation about Damien’s absence and, more tellingly, about my evident authority in his place.
“Vivienne!” Patricia exclaimed when she reached us, her voice too loud, too eager. “Are you enjoying yourself? And Mr. Miler–I hope everything is to your satisfaction?”
I maintained my practiced smile. “He’s dealing with an urgent matter overseas. Business waits for no one, as I’m sure you understand.”
Meanwhile, across town, Clara Bellweather stood at the head table of her birthday celebration, addressing her guests.
“You prefer authenticity,” I finished for him. “I remember.”
I straightened my shoulders, meeting Mason’s gaze directly. “We should begin dinner as scheduled. Damien would prioritize the comfort of his guests and the quality of their experience over protocol.”
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“Well, you’re certainly a worthy representative in his absence,” Miler said, raising his glass to me. “To partnerships that withstand distance.”
I turned to find Beck approaching, relief evident in his expression as he escaped Linda’s clutches.
“Years of practice,” I replied. “Though I must admit, the Shaws‘ particular brand of hospitality can be… overwhelming”
Miler chuckled, his eyes darting to where Linda was now laughing too loudly at something Beck said. “Point taken. Social climbing is rarely subtle.”
“Vivienne,” Miler appeared at my side, a welcome distraction. “This is quite the reception. I’m surprised the Shaws went to such lengths.”
Warm applause followed her words. At the edge of the gathering, Victor Vance caught the eye of the head server and gave a subtle nod. It was time for dinner to be served.
“We’ve prepared an exquisite dining experience to follow our reception. If you’ll all begin making your way to the adjacent ballroom, our servers will guide you to your assigned seating”
“Like being smothered in expensive perfume,” Beck agreed, lowering his voice. “I appreciate their efforts, but-”
Beck smiled politely. “It’s quite the spectacle, though I prefer the quieter corners of
Europe.”
The atmosphere in the Baumond Hotel’s Grand Ballroom was electric. The Shaws had outdone themselves with the welcome reception for Beck and Miler. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the gathering of Boston’s elite, all eager to impress the distinguished visitors.
“Mr. Beck, you simply must tell me more about your adventures in Monaco,” Linda cooed, touching his arm. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting the Grand Prix.”
“Damien and I are partners in all things,” I said simply, letting the implication hang in
the air.
I smiled, though my thoughts remained with Damien. Where was he? What urgent situation had demanded his attention so completely that he’d gone silent?
