Page 84 of My Big, Fat, Hot Billionaire Enemy

Inside, the ballroom is a glittering cavern of old money and new ambition. Chandeliers drip crystals. Champagne flows like water. The air hums with forced laughter and strategic networking.

I scan the room automatically. Identifying threats. Potential allies. Noting who’s talking to whom.

Old habits.

“Quite the entrance,” Lucy murmurs beside me.

“Standard operating procedure for these events,” I reply, guiding her towards the main reception area.

We’re immediately intercepted by Arthur Kensington, a banking magnate whose firm handles a significant chunk of my liquid assets. His gaze flicks between Lucy and me, his curiosity barely veiled.

“Christopher. Good to see you.” He extends a hand. “And who is your lovely companion?”

“Arthur,” I incline my head. “This is Ms. Lucy Hammond, operational lead of Hammond and Company and direct liaison with Blackwell Innovations.” I emphasize her title deliberately. She’s not just a date. She’s a player. My partner.

Lucy handles the introduction with practiced grace, offering a firm handshake and a composed smile. “Mr. Kensington. A pleasure.”

Kensington’s eyebrows lift almost imperceptibly. Hammond and Blackwell. Together. The implications ripple through his understanding of the current market dynamics.

Good.

Let the speculation begin.

We navigate more introductions. Each one reinforces the message. I watch Lucy, impressed by her poise. She’s holding her own in this shark tank, meeting powerful gazes without flinching, discussing business intelligently when required.

A quiet pride swells within me. Not just in her competence, but in the fact that she’s here. With me.

By my own choice.

A defiant counterpoint to the path my father laid out for me.

Then I see him. Holding court near the main bar. Mark Blackwell. Father.

His silver hair gleams under the chandelier light. His eyes, cold and calculating, sweep the room until they land on us.

He doesn’t approach immediately. He watches. Assessing.

Like a predator sizing up its prey.

I feel Lucy tense beside me. She’sseen him too.

“Easy,” I murmur, my hand tightening slightly on her back. “Don’t let him see it bothers you.”

He finally makes his move, gliding towards us, a condescending smile plastered on his face.

On cue, Morgan Weiss materializes at his side like a bad smell, looking smug.

“Christopher,” my father greets me with a fake grin. He completely ignores Lucy. A deliberate slight. “Good to see you supporting such a worthy cause.”

I smile blandly.

His gaze finally slides to Lucy. “And Ms. Hammond. How… unexpected to see you here. With my son.”

“Father,” I reply, my voice glacial. “Ms. Hammond is my guest.”

“Yourguest,” he repeats, savoring the word. “An interesting choice. Given the… delicate nature of your current business negotiations. One hopes personal entanglements won’t cloud your judgment, Christopher.” The threat hangs in the air, veiled but unmistakable.

Choose the deal, or choose her.