Chapter 56

Chapter 56
021
Olivia
The yacht was even more impressive inside, with gleaming wood paneling, crystal chandeliers, and floor–to–ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the harbor. Dozens of guests in formal attire mingled, champagne flutes in hand.
“Drink?” Alexander asked, snagging two glasses from a passing server.
“Please,” I said, accepting the champagne gratefully. “I think I need it.”
“Relax,” he murmured, his lips close to my ear. “You look like you’re facing a firing squad.”
“I feel like I am. Everyone’s staring.”
“They’re staring because you’re stunning.” His eyes met mine, intense and sincere. “And because they’re wondering how I got so lucky.”
Before I could respond, a tall man with silver hair approached, clapping Alexander on the shoulder.
“Carter! Good to see you, my boy. It’s been too long.”
“Senator Williams,” Alexander shook his hand. “Allow me to introduce Olivia Morgan. Olivia, this is Senator James Williams.”
I shook the Senator’s hand, trying not to look as intimidated as I felt. “It’s an honor to meet you, Senator.”
“The pleasure is mine, my dear. I was just telling my wife that Alexander here seems to have finally found himself a keeper.” He winked at me. “Don’t let this one get away, Carter. She’s far too pretty for you.”
Alexander laughed. “I’m well aware, Senator.”
After the Senator moved on, we were approached by a steady stream of guests: CEOs, celebrities, and politicians, all seeming eager to meet Alexander’s new girlfriend. I smiled until my cheeks hurt, trying to remember names and connections.
“You’re doing great,” Alexander whispered during a brief lull. “Ready to see the rest of the yacht?”
“God, yes,” I said, relieved at the prospect of escaping the crowd.
He took my hand, leading me through a door and up a staircase to the upper deck. Here, the crowd was thinner, with small groups gathered around high tables or leaning against the railing to admire the view.
“Better?” he asked as we found a quiet spot near the bow.
“Much,” I sighed, taking a deep breath of the cool ocean air. “How do you do this all the time? The small talk, the networking, the constant smiling?”
“Practice,” he shrugged. “And knowing it’s necessary for business.”
“Well, you’re good at it. Everyone loves you.”
“They love what I represent: money, power, connections.” His voice held a hint of cynicism. “It’s rarely about the person.”
I studied his profile in the fading light. “That sounds lonely.”
“It can be,” he admitted, surprising me with his candor. “That’s why tonight isn’t about business.”
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“It’s not?”
“No.” He turned to face me. “Tonight is about giving you a break from everything you’ve been dealing with. Your father’s health, work stress, our arrangement… I thought you could use a night to clear your mind.”
I blinked, touched by his thoughtfulness. “That’s… thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he said, checking his watch. “The formal dinner starts in twenty minutes, and you’ll be seated next to California’s most boring hedge fund manager.”
“Wonderful,” I groaned. “Can’t wait to hear about investment strategies over my salmon.”
Alexander laughed. “I’ll rescue you if he starts discussing his golf handicap.”
The dinner was actually less tedious than I’d expected. The hedge fund manager turned out to be surprisingly funny, and the food was exquisite, with five courses of gourmet cuisine paired with fine wines. Alexander kept his hand on my knee under the table, a casual gesture that felt oddly comforting.
After dinner came speeches about ocean conservation, followed by a charity auction.
I watched in amazement as the wealthy attendees bid hundreds of thousands of dollars for items like private island getaways and dinner with celebrities.
“And now,” the auctioneer announced, “a special item donated by Carter Enterprises. A weekend for two at the exclusive Carter Mountain Lodge in Aspen, including private jet transportation, a personal chef, and ski instruction from Olympic gold medalist Jake Burton.”
The bidding started at fifty thousand dollars and quickly escalated. Alexander sat back, watching with amusement as two bidders drove the price higher and higher.
‘Sold!” the auctioneer finally declared. “For three hundred and seventy–five thousand dollars to Mrs. Eloise Prescott!”
The crowd applauded as an elegant older woman stood to acknowledge her win.
That’s a lot of money for a weekend in Aspen,” I whispered to Alexander.
It’s for a good cause,” he replied. “And Eloise can afford it. Her late husband left her with a fortune in oil money.”
As the auction concluded, a band took the stage, and couples began moving to the dance floor.
‘Dance with me?” Alexander asked, standing and offering his hand.
I’m not much of a dancer,” I admitted.
“Neither am I, he said with a wink. “But it’s expected.”
We joined the other couples on the dance floor, Alexander’s hand warm against my lower back as he guided me into a simple waltz. He moved with surprising grace for such a tall man, leading me effortlessly around the floor.
“You lied, I accused lightly. “You’re a very good dancer.”
“My grandfather insisted on lessons. Said no Carter man should embarrass himself at social functions.”
“Well, he was right about that, at least.”
Alexander’s eyes darkened slightly. “He’s right about many things, just not all of them.”
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I knew he was referring to the marriage ultimatum, but before I could respond, the music changed to a slower, more intimate melody. Alexander drew me closer, his cheek resting against my temple as we swayed together.
“Everyone’s watching us.” I murmured, acutely aware of the eyes on us.
“Let them watch,” he replied softly. “We’re giving them exactly what they expect to see: a man completely captivated by his
beautiful date.”
My heart skipped a beat at his words, even knowing they were part of our charade. We continued dancing, my body fitting against his as if we’d been partners for years instead of weeks.
After several dances, Alexander checked his watch again. “Come with me,” he said, taking my hand and leading me off the
dance floor.
“Where are we going?”
You’ll see.
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