Page 98 of The Merger

“A matcha latte?”

“Red wine it is.” He winks. “Do you want to fight that crowd with me, or would you rather stay here?”

I glance over my shoulder at the congestion of bodies packing the area in front of the bar. “Yeah, I’m good here.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He stands, trailing his fingers across the back of my neck as he leaves.

A flurry of goose bumps dot my skin as I watch him move through the crowd. He’s stopped every few feet by people wanting to say hello or shake his hand. It’s so interesting to watch—so different from how people treat him at work. Everyone seems happy to see him and excited that he’s here.

Why does it seem like he wants to be anywhere else?

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Fuck. I follow the sound of the voice, my stomach sinking. I don’t have to see him to know who it is.Victor.

He grips the back of my chair, his knuckles glancing my shoulder blades. Instead of goose bumps like when Gannon touched me, my hands ball into fists.

“What are you doing here, love?” he asks, lifting his glass to take a sip of his scotch.

If looks could kill, Victor Morrisey would be a dead man.

“I’m not your love,” I say, narrowing my eyes. “Please leave.”

“Wanna go with me? You give much better head than that bitch I brought tonight.”

My blood boils at his brazenness. I scan the room, ensuring Gannon isn’t seeing this. He has enough on his plate tonight … even though I don’t know what it is.

I face Victor head-on, staring him down. “If you ever so much as speak to me again, I swear to God that I’ll make a few calls and ruin your life.” I pause so my words can sink all the way in. “I don’t want to have to do that to you, but I will.”

He bristles at my warning, uncertain whether I’m talking out of my ass or not. He has to be asking himself if I know enough about his family—that his father is preparing a run for the US Senate and his mother is a respected relationship coach in Los Angeles—to follow through with my threats. Surely, he knows me well enough to know I wouldn’t bat an eye.

“You wouldn’t,” he says.

I smirk. “Guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“You’re a fucking bitch.”

“Oh, Victor. It was so nice to see you, too. Have a great rest of your evening.”

He glares at me before walking away.

I release a heavy, hasty breath as soon as he’s out of earshot.That’s enough surprises for one night.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a voice says over a loudspeaker. “Welcome to the Waltham Prep Centennial Gala Celebration. We’re honored to have you in attendance this evening to recognize one hundred years of excellence in education. Thank you for joining us. Now, if you would take your seats, our festivities will kick off shortly.”

Chatter grows louder throughout the room as the groups of people begin to separate. I search frantically for Gannon, hoping he returns before our tablemates sit and I’m forced to make small talk. I have nothing in common with these people and, after Victor’s appearance, I could really use a familiar, friendly face.

“Well, hello.” A woman sits across from me, smiling as brightly as her canary-yellow dress. “I’m Matilda Ross and this is my husband Hugo Ross.”

Hugo sits beside her. He has a grandfatherly vibe and smells faintly like cigars.

“It’s nice to meet both of you,” I say, wringing my hands beneath the table. “I’m Carys Johnson. I’m here with Gannon Brewer, but he just stepped away for a drink.”

“Oh, honey. We’re sitting with Gannon,” Matilda says happily to her husband. Then she returns her attention to me. “Gannon was on our son’s baseball team as a little boy. He could switch hit, which was quite impressive at his age. He had every boy on the team trying to hit from the other side which had the coaches fit to be tied.” She laughs at the memory. “That was quite the season, wasn’t it, Hugo?”