CHAPTER 4: THE GALA

The gala felt like hitting a wall with all the noise, lights and a hundred eyes doing the math as soon as she and Adrian entered.

"Smile. Don't stay too long at the bar. Don't let your glass go empty or else someone will refill that with more champagne and their opinion about the evening."

This was Mira's mental note that she kept repeating for the evening.

"You're really good at that, you know?" Adrian murmured against her ear. His hand was warm at the small of her back.

"Good at what?"

"Reading the room. Like you already know where everyone should be seated and grouped."

"Sorry, force of habit."

Mira saw a board member intently watching them from across the room. The way he stared at them was how someone would be doing the math to a contract deal.

"That one thinks I'm after your money."

"He's not often wrong."

Adrian moved with Mira in the direction of the man instead of steering away.

"Harold," Adrian addressed the man. "This is Mira Santos, she's the reason why I have not unraveled this week."

Harold's smile was thin as a blade as he turned to Mira and asked a question.

"How long have you two been… acquainted?"

Mira looked at Harold the way she would when discussing her f*e with couples who want to get the best of her. She gave him that knowing smile and said:

"Long enough to know better than answering questions phrased like depositions."

Harold's jaw tried moving through several responses. Unfortunately it didn't settle on any response. He just gave them a grim smile and nodded before moving on.

"He once accused a caterer of selling company secrets. Over a shrimp cocktail." Adrian said, his voice almost laughing. Mira noticed that Adrian's shoulders loosened.

Mira laughed, a real laugh. A laugh she didn't think she would be able to do tonight.

Behind them, Harold pulled out his phone and typed a short message to someone. A contact saved as "HRW," three letters that meant nothing to Mira now but soon it would mean so much more to her regret.

"There it is," Adrian said.

"There's what?"

"You. Unscripted. This suits you."

A woman in an emerald silk gown met them near the champagne. This was Delphine Ashworth, the ethics committee chair. She was the one person whose opinion of Adrian could move the entire board.

"Adrian." She smiled more genuinely than Harold. But still assessing her, computing, deciding.

"And this must be the Ms. Santos everyone's gossiping about."

She didn't sugarcoat her words.

"Delphine, Mira." Adrian introduced them. "She plans weddings for a living, which means she can manage difficult people better than either of us."

"So, Mira," Delphine addressed her with a spark of curiosity in her eyes. "Tell me, off the record, what's your read on our Adrian Cole, CEO?"

Mira considered the question carefully. She answered with:

"He's more careful and thorough than most people give him credit for." She took a breath and decided she would continue.

"Careful people often get mistaken for cold ones. It's not the same thing."

The expression on Delphine's face changed. She seemed amused, surprised. Maybe.

"That's the most honest answer I've gotten out of anyone. Especially from this company's PR department."

"And in just mere seconds, this gave more insight about him than a decade's worth of PR reviews." Delphine looked at her with interest before she moved toward the next group of guests.

"That went so much better than I expected," Adrian said while watching Delphine move on.

"Did you think she would eat me alive?"

"She has done just that to much more experienced negotiators. So, yes, I thought she might."

He glanced at her warmly. "You surprised me."

"I'm full of surprises, Mr. Cole."

"I'm beginning to think that is an understatement, Ms. Santos."

Adrian said it lightly but his eyes lingered a second longer than the joke required and Mira found herself forgetting that none of this was real. Again….

"Careful, Mr. Cole, I think flattery is covered in clause four of our contract…" Mira said amusingly.

"It doesn't." His voice dropped low. "I checked."

They started to stare at each other and this was the moment Mira was asking herself days ago and now she was in it….

Adrian caught himself staring and enjoying himself and was shocked. He started admitting to himself that he would like to find out more but the more analytical part of him was shouting at the back of his mind.

Mira walked towards the terrace and Adrian followed. It was colder, quieter and the string lights overhead made it look like someone's wedding.

"This isn't in the contract," she said. At the same time, he gave her his jacket without being asked.

"I'm amending it. Verbally."

"I'll have my lawyer draft the update tomorrow."

"You're being ridiculous," Mira said in a soft voice, her eyes looking down to hide her blushing cheeks.

"I'm thorough. You said so yourself."

Neither one of them noticed that they were standing so close to each other, so close that their faces could almost touch.

Below them, the city carried on. Indifferent to fake dates and real feelings that refused to stay fake.

Out of nowhere a camera flashed. One that was not staged, or planned.

Someone just thought - doesn't that scene outside look pretty?

Mira stepped back. Leaving a foot of distance between them.

But it was too late.

"Right, should we go back in?" she said, trying to find composure in what felt like a lapse in judgement.

"Should we?" But Adrian offered his arm anyway. And he too had changed, he was back to being professional, computing. Folding the moment away like a napkin.

Mira didn't answer. She was so scared her voice would betray her and she wasn't sure what was right anymore…

"After you, Ms. Santos," Adrian said as they reached the ballroom doors.

"For what it's worth, tonight didn't feel like a job to me."

Inside, the party started to shift to a looser hour. Board members stopped watching the room, and everyone in it, so carefully. It even felt as if people were starting to actually enjoy themselves.

Nobody noticed Harold leave early.

Nobody noticed the phone glued to his hands.

Nobody noticed the three letters - HRW - lighting up his screen again and again. The devil he already sold his loyalty to.