Deception (Infidelity #3)(79)
Merry fucking Christmas.
When I received the invitation, I decided that attending the fundraiser was my chance to show my success in my own backyard, prove that Demetri belonged among the other names in attendance.
I’d avoided most social gatherings, especially large ones, since my divorce. It wasn’t for lack of a companion. I could easily have someone on my arm. It was that I didn’t have the energy. My focus was the business. Angelina was better at the social graces. She could mesmerize a table of people with her stories and carry on a conversation with anyone about anything.
In hindsight, I realized it was probably because she was starved for adult conversation. Though Lennox was about to graduate high school and Silvia was somewhere in her early twenties, conversations with them, in my opinion, weren’t exactly stimulating. That could be why I avoided those too.
As I glanced at the growing crowd, I wondered with whom I would start. I may not hold a table captive with talk about the latest movie but I could talk business with the best of them. It was all I ever discussed anymore. Stocks and shares. The fluctuations of the market and the impending shitstorm as interest rates continued to fall.
Conversation and networking were why I hadn’t brought a companion to this event. I could talk shop with the other men, put a face with the Demetri name, and make my mark in a legitimate business climate away from the chains that bound me in Brooklyn.
I didn’t want, nor did I have the energy, to coddle a woman with small talk. I’d grown tired of doing that with Angelina, and I knew her. Indulging a relative stranger, even with the promise of sex afterward, was a nauseating proposition.
The tart champagne constricted the muscles in my throat as I sipped from the tall fluted glass. I’d arrived in time for the cocktail hour. The time before the meal. The time to introduce myself and assess the multitude of opportunities. I scanned the room seeing the usual suspects as well as others I’d never met.
I had a good idea who’d be present. The price tag alone made the guest list elite.
It was then that I saw her.
A vision across the room.
Though it had been years since I’d seen her in Savannah, I immediately recognized Adelaide Montague. Even in my subconscious I avoided the name Collins.
She was stunning, slender and petite, yet despite her small stature, in my eyes she was a glowing pinnacle surrounded by a sea of frivolity. The way she stood, holding herself as the regal lady she unquestionably was—well, it was mesmerizing. I tried to look away, tried to refocus on the crowd, on the business at hand, but I couldn’t. There was something about her presence that drew me closer. Overwhelming and enticing, she was beauty and class personified, and yet there was an aura of sadness around her that tore at my heart.
Could I be the cause?
I had to know.
Three strides or was it five? I didn’t care, because once they were complete, she was looking directly at me. Blue eyes filled with a sparkle that broke through the sadness. In the eyes of an angel was a ravishing hunger. She captivated me by her complexity before she uttered a word.
I wanted to know more. To know her thoughts and her dreams. To hear her sorrows and share in her joys. Somehow this beautiful lady before me was more complicated than any other woman I’d ever known. I longed to peel back her layers, knowing in my heart that her perfected exterior, as stunning as it was, paled in comparison to what lay beneath.
“Hello.” The greeting rolled off my tongue as I reached for her small, soft hand, bowed ever so slightly at the hip, and lifted her delicate fingers to my lips. The faintest scent of perfume graced the air as her pulse beneath my touch thumped in beat with her racing heart. It was floral—jasmine and lavender. The aroma entered my breath, filled my lungs, and marked my memory for eternity.
“I’m Oren, and you are?”
Our gazes held steady. The dance of unfed hunger that swayed and moved beneath the surface of her stare wouldn’t allow me to look away. I didn’t want to blink, to close my eyes, or lose a millisecond of her presence. I wanted the vision before me etched in my mind forever.
“Adelaide.”
Her voice sang to me like a siren calling to a sailor from the depths of the ocean.
With only one word, I knew that like the mythological creatures, this woman was dangerous. First, she was married. If I hadn’t known that already, it was glaringly obvious by the gigantic rock on her left hand. Second, I was confident that despite the success of Demetri Enterprises, she was out of my league. I was less than nothing to the likes of a Montague.
Could fate change perceptions?
For the first time in my life, I believed it could.
Years ago, in a California bar, I’d heard the description of a frigid woman who’d made life unbearable. Like other opinions, I now knew that one had been totally erroneous. Adelaide Montague wasn’t an ice princess. She couldn’t be. During the few seconds that I’d held her hand, the fire that coursed through her veins created a spark that jolted my cold, dark heart back to life.
“A most beautiful name for an even more stunning woman.”
I expected her to shake off my compliment, to tell me that she was taken. I expected her tone to be dismissive, addressing me as the lower-class man I was. What I didn’t expect was for her cheeks to blush and her breathing to hitch. For a moment I stared, perplexed as to why this woman, who shouldn’t even be talking to me, was surprised by my acknowledgment of her obvious beauty.