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I close my mouth, thinking twice as I look into his exhausted eyes. Graham is under a lot of pressure right now — at home and at the office. Add in the flurry of extra media attention about to explode on his entire family thanks to his mother running for U.S. Senate, I couldn’t even imagine the stress.
The last thing he needs to worry about is me and my personal shit.
I take my hand off the door. “You can count on me, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“I know.” Graham smiles. “You never have.”
I stand up straight until the golden doors close. As soon as he’s gone, I let my head fall. Deep breaths. Deep breaths…
When I raise my head again, I flinch at the chiseled face hovering above my shoulder in the reflective golden door.
“So, we should talk,” Oliver says.
I turn to face him. “I’m actually quite busy right now.” I hold up my clipboard. “See? Very long list of tasks.”
“Later then?”
I screw up my nose. “I kinda got this party to go to…”
“Me, too,” he says. “I’m sure there’s a quiet corner you and I can get together in to talk.”
“Oliver...” I exhale as I pinch the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. “I really don’t think there’s anything we need to talk about.”
“Sure, there is.”
I shake my head. “No. No, I don’t think there is. Even if there were, it’s ancient history. Nothing we need to bring up again. Ever again.”
“That’s a strange thing to say about a travel itinerary.”
“Oh.” I bite my cheek. “Well, we can go over that at the airport tomorrow morning. And only that.”
Oliver pauses, his devious eyes glistening beneath the golden lights. “If that’s what you want, Ms. Landon.”
I stand up taller. “It is.”
“All right, then. I shall see you tomorrow morning. At the airport.”
With a swift nod, I turn on my heels and make a break for the ballroom. I manage a whole three steps before my brain kicks in and I stop mid-stride. I spin back around, and Oliver is still standing in the same place, watching me as I walk away.
I pray my burning cheeks aren’t too obvious. “What time?” I ask. “And where are we going exactly?”
“Eight,” he answers. “Chicago. I’ll email you the rest.”
“Cool,” I say before continuing my oh-so-graceful exit toward the ballroom. “Just be cool,” I whisper to myself.
CHAPTER 3
OLIVER
Paige Landon.
It has been a long time, but I still remember everything.
And I can tell she does, too.
She wanders through the crowd as Fiona makes her speech. Taking signatures. Handing out swag. Giving away smiles and stickers like candy. But she never looks at me. Never at me.
Gee. Thanks, Graham.
