Loyal Lawyer by Lauren Runow

Chapter Fourteen

Glitz and glamour.

It’s the perfect phrase to describe the event held at the rooftop atrium, where Blake, Fields, and Moore is hosting their annual gala.

Men are donned in suits as the women wear their most sophisticated cocktail attire. There’s champagne, caviar, and crystal chandeliers. While guests nibble on canapes, they discuss business, and joke with raucous laughter as a band plays at the far end of the room.

Shawn and I are set up in a corner. The original request asked for a chocolate fondue fountain. To be honest, I’m not a fan of those things. The chocolate is always subpar, and to use my own recipe, it would have been astronomical. Instead, we have tiered rows of artisanal chocolates that we are using to pair with each guest’s drink of choice this evening.

Since this is a mingling event, people are strutting about, working the room. No one is dancing, though I assume by the large dance floor, they will be later.

I adjust the collar of my chef’s jacket and make sure the name on the coat is visible in its scripted font.

“You look great, boss.” Shawn tries to calm my nerves as I watch people pass our table.

“Why aren’t they coming over here?” I whisper to him through my smile.

“Probably because they just got here and they plan on diving into some of that steak on the other side of the room and getting a little hammered before dessert,” he states. “Just smile, relax, and don’t worry. You’re getting paid whether or not they come over here.”

I give him a half-smile even though I’m a ball of nerves inside.

Still, I stand here, as professional as possible, and smile as guests pass without sampling. I’m watching people flutter about in a sea of high-priced suits and diamond stud earrings when, suddenly, like parting waves of the Atlantic, the crowd moves, and in its wake is Sebastian.

There are hundreds of people in this room, yet none hold a candle to him. He’s taller than most, leaner than most, and his laugh—although I can’t hear it from here—is most definitely more vibrant than everyone combined. I’m halfway across the room, and I’m taken by the sheer charisma and confidence that ooze from him.

He’s wearing a black suit with a matching tie. With his broad shoulders and tapered waist, the fine suit shows off his body, which is undeniably athletic. His golden hair is combed back, and his lips are pursed on a lowball glass filled with an amber liquid.

He’s a stunning man. I’ve never been one for big or brawny guys. My ex-boyfriends have all been lanky. The cool, low-key, unassuming kind of man. Everything Sebastian is not.

Sebastian is a mix of muscle and tone. He’s sexy without being roguish. Built without the unneeded bulkiness. His features are soft and beautiful yet hard where it counts—like his jaw, his piercing gaze, and his lips.

My hand brushes against the other one at the memory of what his felt like on mine.

I place my hands on my hips, recalling how his felt as they gripped me tightly, never wanting to let go.

Shawn leans over and whispers, “Down, girl. You’re practically foaming at the mouth.”

I give him the side-eye, which I hope he reads as the equivalent of giving him the finger.

“I take it, that’s the loyal lawyer over there?” He juts his chin toward Sebastian, who is making his way closer to us, still chatting away.

“That’s him.”

“You can try to act like you aren’t into the guy, but your misty-eyed expression is a total giveaway.”

“Not the conversation we should be having here,” I whisper out the side of my mouth.

“Just saying. Dude is rich, and he really likes to help you out.”

“Money isn’t everything.” I fidget with the tablecloth, making sure everything is straight.

“Trust me, I know or else I’d never get laid. He’s a good-looking dude though. Probably could have any woman in this room.”

I tilt my head at Shawn and scowl. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. Just stating a fact. He’s a baller. Look at how he holds that woman’s hand while she speaks. She’s practically wetting her panties right now.”

I glance over. Sebastian is talking with a woman who is significantly older than him. He has one of her hands wrapped in his. Not in a sexual way. It’s a warm gesture that he must be coupling with a compliment because she’s batting her eyes and leaning forward. A man at her side, presumably her husband, is beaming at her, agreeing with whatever it is Sebastian is saying. Sebastian releases her hand and then shakes the man’s before moving on to the next couple.

“He’s just working the room,” I surmise.

Shawn nods. “Like I said, baller.”

I roll my eyes with a grin as I continue to smile at the passing guests. The music being played is an old jazz standard that has me swaying a little.

Sebastian is getting closer, and soon enough, he makes his way over to our table. There are mountains of finely placed chocolates on the table, and instead of looking at any of them, his gaze penetrates me as I breathe deeper and smile brighter.

“Good evening, Amy.”

My belly flutters, and it takes me a moment to speak. “Sebastian. Thank you so much for hiring us. It’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve always wanted to attend an event up here.”

His expression doesn’t hide his surprise. “Is this your first time inside the atrium?”

I nod. “All work and no play, I suppose.”

Sebastian shifts his head and then turns back to me. His brows lower, making the side of his eyes wrinkle as he stares at me, lost in thought. He smiles and then glances down for a moment, taking in the display. “This looks delectable. You’re most definitely going to spoil our guests.”

“Shawn here helps me create every piece,” I say by way of introduction. “Sebastian Blake, this is my sous-chef, Shawn McCormack.”

Shawn extends a hand. “Nice party. It would be nicer if we could get some guests over here to taste Amy’s amazing products.”

I turn to Shawn with a scowl. “This is not a vendor event. It’s a party. If they come, they come. Please don’t pressure Mr. Blake.”

Sebastian interrupts my whispered scolding, “No, no. He’s right. I wanted you here because we always do something extra for guests at these events. Last year, it was a photo booth, and the year before, we had Kareem Abdul Jabbar signing basketballs. This year, we’re loading them up with chocolate. The guests should come over because this is their gift.”

There’s a group of people to the side, young twenty-somethings, who Sebastian walks over to. When he comes back, it’s with an entourage of eight, who he introduces to me and Shawn. Then, he steps back as the people check out my offerings. A man takes the tongs placed on the table, examining each one, like he can’t decide what he wants to choose.

“What are you drinking?” I ask him.

He looks back at me, confused. “Single malt scotch.”

“Whiskey and chocolate are a perfect pairing since their flavor profiles are so similar. It’s best to enjoy both at room temperature.” I lift my tongs and offer him a piece of sea salt dark chocolate to put on his plate. “Place this in your mouth for a few seconds before taking a sip. Scotch is naturally creamy with notes of citrus, so the chocolate will brighten up the scotch while the drink’s subtle honey flavor showcases the bold salty note.”

He does so and then chews, enjoying the piece before following with a sip of scotch.

His head nods in appreciation. “That’s delicious.”

“Do me!” A woman moves over enthusiastically. “What do you recommend for champagne?”

Shawn and I show our guests around the table, recommending chocolates to pair with whatever they’re drinking—nutty flavors for bourbon, white chocolate for tequila, and extra-dark chocolate for merlot.

Once Sebastian walked over the first group, the floodgates opened, and the table is bustling with people tasting our product.

Not everyone wants their drinks paired. Some just come and sample without a word. Others are specific about allergies and dietary restrictions. Many just want something sweet after eating appetizers and visiting the carving or pasta stations.

Sebastian is back several times, always with someone he wants to introduce me to. Colleagues of his, affiliates of the business, and even a few people he’s meeting tonight for the first time. He doesn’t treat me or Shawn like hired help. He introduces us as his friends and raves about our products, even making suggestions on how they should use us for corporate gifts over the holidays.

While my cheeks are blushing and my heart is pounding, I retain my professionalism as I greet them and cater to their tasting needs. A few ask for my card, and I am happy to pass it on.

There’s a moment where I wonder if I’m going to run out of chocolates since some people are coming back multiple times.

Two hours into the party, the attention to our table has simmered down, as most people are now dancing, drinking, and engrossed in conversation. I’d say a hundred or so people have already left, and there’s still another hour of the event remaining.

I’m standing at the front of the table, where I’m making sure the tasting dishes are lined up in perfectly symmetrical form when a warm hand on my back has me looking up.

I know who it is before I see him.

Sebastian removes his hand and slides it into his pants pocket. I adjust a tendril of hair that’s fallen in front of my face and breathe deeply.

“You have many new fans, Miss Morgana.”

I smile as I shake my head and glance down at my shoes. “I’ve never done a large event like this. I’ve been to trade shows, but this was a new experience. I had to get my cocktail-hour schmooze hat on. It’s a lot of work.”

He grins that lopsided one that I miss. “You were brilliant. Just don’t forget us little people when you’re world famous.”

I playfully slug him in the arm. It’s a childish move that I instantly feel silly for doing. I might as well have given the man a noogie.

Still, he laughs because that’s the kind of guy Sebastian is.

“May I have this dance?” he asks with an outstretched hand.

I blink at it a few times, wondering if I heard him wrong. I tilt my head with a raised brow.

“You can’t tell me you don’t like to dance because I know for a fact that you do.”

I place my hand on my hip, and I use the other to showcase my attire of black pants and a mauve chef’s jacket. “I’m not exactly dressed for dancing.”

He pulls me toward him anyway. “I was unaware there was a dress code for dancing. Last I heard, you could do so in your underwear.”

I give him a deadpan expression, which he refuses to acknowledge as he leads me to the dance floor. I quickly remove my jacket and throw it to Shawn, who waves as I’m taken away.

Sebastian guides me through the crowd, and the tempo changes from a Motown dance to a jazz standard. The opening chords to Norah Jones’s “Come Away with Me” plays, and I relax to the familiar beats of the piano.

My shoulders fall as I look up at Sebastian in defeat. He grips my waist and pulls me flush against him. His other hand takes mine and holds it close to his chest.

I laugh to myself at how incorrigible this man is before I lay my free hand on his shoulder and let him lead me in a dance.

“I feel silly,” I say, looking around at the beautifully dressed women on the floor. He doesn’t say anything in response, so I lean up a little and see him more clearly. “You’re dancing with the help.”

“I quite like the help,” he muses.

I give him my sternest eyes. “I’m serious.”

He matches my expression with sarcasm. “So am I.”

“People are staring.”

“Let them. You’re too beautiful for them not to.”

My breath hitches at his words, and I have to look away. I turn my nose to his lapel and stare at it as we dance. His intoxicating scent is potent tonight. Citrus and woodsy and so very male. His large hand is splayed on my back; I can feel the heat of it as it warms my body up to my cheeks.

I swallow hard. “Do you have this large of an event every year?”

“We do. It’s a thank-you to our clients, referral partners, and staff. My partners and I don’t like doing anything this big around the holidays. Everyone’s already so busy, and events are a dime a dozen. This is a good time to say thank you and give everyone a night out that they actually look forward to.”

“That’s a smart idea. Christmas in springtime.”

“We have a holiday party that is not this formal. We rent out a pub for happy hour and let everyone get hammered. We also do a barbecue around Labor Day to end the summer.”

Somewhere during our conversation, I moved from looking at his shoulder to staring up into his eyes. “The law firm that parties together stays together?”

“The job comes with a lot of stress. If you don’t balance it out with friends, family, and a good work environment, it can burn you out.”

He lifts our joined hands and points to the bar that’s off the dance floor. His assistant is there with a group, laughing loudly at something someone said. His arm is around a girl, who is staring at him, beaming.

“Miles over there has been so consumed with work that his girlfriend almost left him last year.”

“That’s horrible. I assume they made it through. Let me guess … you gave him the night off to go to some high-priced restaurant, dinner paid by you.”

“That’s absurd.” He blanches, and I stare up at him with an inquisitive glare. “I gave them the keys to my beach house for the weekend and told him to take Monday off.”

I laugh out loud. “Of course you did.”

Sebastian spins me. It’s not called for in the song, but it feels good to do it anyway. As he twirls me back in, I’m even closer, tighter, firmer … more in every aspect.

It’s so easy to fall under his spell. He’s hypnotic in his words, spellbounding with his gaze, and I’m so bewitched that I might float right off this dance floor.

“You really take care of everyone, don’t you?” I whisper.

“I try.” His deep baritone vibrates in his chest as his attention becomes focused on my lips.

I let out a shaky breath and lift my chin. “Speaking of … no more handouts.”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” I arch a brow.

“No,” he states assuredly. “I wanted to showcase a phenomenal local business while offering a great favor to people who had contributed generously to our company.”

“This isn’t because you feel bad by how things were left?”

My question appears to have caught him off guard. It’s a conversation we’ve been dancing around, both literally and figuratively.

“It does feel like unfinished business, you and me. I didn’t want it to end the way it did,” he says, and I nod. It did end, and him stating it seems so final. “There are many things I’d like to discuss with you—perhaps in a more private setting. But tonight, this was just me doing something good for you. I care for you, and I have a need to help those I care about.”

The tender expression in his brown eyes is sincere.

“Who takes care of you?” I ask, breathy.

“I don’t need anything.”

“Everyone needs something.”

“Well, there is one thing I want, but I don’t think I’ll be able to have it as my own.”

My feet halt on the dance floor, as do his. He’s staring at me—and not just at my eyes. He’s looking so deeply that I swear he’s gazing into my soul. Because in this moment, it feels like I’m the thing he wants.

My soul is screaming at him, begging him to take me.

Have me.

Love me.

Our hands release, and he places one on my cheek while mine finds his heart. It’s thumping quickly, and I feel it racing against my palm.

His fingers glide down my temple and cup my jaw. I lean into his hand and stare into his gorgeous face. My lips part, and I take a heavy inhale.

His eyes fall to my mouth. His tongue dips out to lick his lower lip.

I inhale deeply and lean in a touch. My body quivering.

He comes forward, and his eyes shift to the side. His brow drops, and I see it. The hesitation. There’s something holding him back.

He looks back to my mouth, but I pull away, moving away from him, giving us much-needed space.

The song has now changed to a dance tune, and the people around us are moving in rapid beats while Sebastian and I stand here, staring at one another.

I take two more steps back and knock into someone. With an apology, I excuse myself from the dance floor and start to walk back to the tasting table.

Sebastian grabs my hand. I turn back to him but shake my head.

“I’m sorry. I got carried away,” I start, but he stops me.

“Why did you just walk away like that?” he asks, dumbfounded.

Normally, I’d say it was nothing and leave. But there’s something about his perplexed expression that has me saying, “You were about to kiss me, Sebastian. But you halted like there was something else that was more important for you to think about. Call me old-fashioned, but when a man is about to kiss me, I want to be the only thing on his mind.” He goes to speak, but I halt him with my hands and my words. “Please, don’t try to explain. You were right when you said we felt like unfinished business. But it ended. You have a beautiful life you need to focus on. Perhaps tonight was what we both needed to put this thing between us to bed. Figuratively, of course. Not literally.”

“Amy, I—”

“Please. People are already staring, and I’d like to leave here with a reputation of being an exceptional artisanal chocolatier. Not a woman who got into it with the boss at the company party.”

My words have him standing taller with a slight nod of his head, showing he understands my need for decorum. I take the opportunity to walk back to the table and stand with Shawn. He starts to speak, but I just give him my downturned eyes and silently ask him not to give his advice. I just want to work and move on.

As much as I secretly hoped there could be a world where Sebastian and I could coexist, it turns out, my heart is just not strong enough to be around the one thing in this world I want but cannot have.