Billion Dollar Promises

Charity Dinner, Next Friday. The brief was intimidating: a high-profile black-tie gallery for 500 guests where Jaxson Carrington would publicly announce their "relationship" to kick off the fak

blinked and buzzed like it was about t

simple..But with her account nearly empty and bil

wing Claire's name. Sav

need you at th

ld and straight to the point. No h

over the event details," s

e heels she'd put on at 8 that morning. Her feet were sore, her back ached, and her stomach h

adn't even th

d. "Yeah. I'

a Kent and plead to save her biggest client, but Claire's urg

h a loose button she kept meaning to sew back on but never did. Then she pulled off her sweats and changed into a black skirt that had seen better days but s

t day. The glass walls reflected her tense expressi

le, his white shirt open at the collar, dark ha

ooth but sharp, like he was testi

back, dropping into a chair with h

mock-up of an invitation glowed on the sc

day," Claire said, "Five hundred guests.

the screen, her mind alrea

. Carrington wants you

er, his eyes locked on hers. Like

e said. "We will make the relationshi

h stare

dn't

at photo," he added. "People

stand next to me. We ac

here was nothing simp

nt felt heavy in her chest. "You wan

stled, her nails digging into her arms. He's so damn sure of himself

walking," Claire cut in,

en what's happening. This event could change that. Ou

be his fiancée? It felt like stepping into a lion's den. "And if

s it up," Jaxs

t she pushed it aside

h his hands braced on the table. "And on top of that," he added, "we'

keep her apartment, rebuild her reputation. But standing next to Jaxso

e steady despite the storm in her chest.

. You'll handle the logistics: vendors, catering, décor, and media. We've got a budget and a team to support you. The big moment is at 9

. "And everyone just believ

s eyes steady on hers, making her shift in her se

. "Fairy tales don't usually start wit

ment, she saw something warm, a

yed all business. "We'll need you o

ght days. Five hundred guests. No pressure. She sto

ng, and her heart did that stupid skip again. "This

don't trust easy Mr. Carrington. D

tare, unyield

erers, argued with florists over budgets, and dealt with a lighting crew that kept missing deadlines. Every morning, she arrived with coffee and a

hed for silver; he insisted on a string quartet, she argued for a jazz band but the arguments sparked something else. His hand brushed hers when they reviewed seating charts, and his low laugh

once, his eyebrow ra

back to her laptop, her ch

" Jaxson, and Marissa Kent called to say she was "monitoring" her work. Each setback made her chest tighten, but she pushed through, driven by the need to

d, and perfect. Savannah stood just off to the side, behind the heavy curtain

rong. But somehow, everything came together. Out in the ballroom, guests sipped

nned the room, her

told herself. Everyt

; his presence commanding. The crowd hushed

an, his voice smooth, practiced. "But

in. Then his eyes shifted to the side of the

omach

cial," he said, eyes still locked on her

ing wen

moved. Her feet were frozen but her name had

quiet murmurs rippl

f her heels louder than the last in her own ears. Her

out, and she

in a way she hadn't expected. And f

as starte

ed, smiled a

ts. Then she turned to him, forcing a smile as her he

se died down, Jaxson caught her

lse could hear. "You nailed it," he said. "Th

adrenaline buzzing under her skin. Her heart

ice sharp. "Don't get used to it," she

gaze for a sec

ed hers, too in

ion tense. "Mr. Carrington, a word. The board's asking q

ered, but Jaxson's jaw tighten

. His voice softened. "You did

her throat tight, sudd

a second longer-then

ds hung the

lking into. Knew it from the

at her tonight, the way her chest t

n't fe

more than anything w