“My thoughts exactly,” Dagney said. “And rumor has it you’re interested in expanding your European operations to the Bay Area.”
“If we can find the right building to house our West Coast headquarters.” He grinned.
Dagney, fatherly but distinguished-looking with salt-and-pepper hair, a refined air, and a portly stature, clasped Tristan on the shoulder and said, “Why don’t we have lunch in the city this week? We’ll discuss some options.”
“I’ll contact your office for a day and time. Now, be sure to enjoy cigars and cognac on the deck—I think you’ll find the exclusive selections impressive.”
The older gentleman chuckled. “I’m going to like doing business with you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, sir.” They shook. He then exchanged pleasantries with Devon and Morgan.
As they were launching into a conversation about current changes underway in the Bayfront community, including the impending opening of the Covington Collection hotel down the coast on land Devon’s family had sold to Noah Donovan, there was a sudden, palpable shift in the air. Subtle yet unmistakable. Slack jaws from several men gathered close by and a faint but familiar and highly alluring perfume wafting under Tristan’s nose. An undeniable brightening of the entire intimate atmosphere.
“Excuse me,” Tristan said distractedly as he stepped around Morgan to scan the crowd. And saw Liv practically parting the Red Sea before him.
She strolled regally into the formal living room as though it were her personal red carpet, stealing breaths in her wake. She glowed radiantly, and it wasn’t just the diamonds and the sparkly sandals she’d paired with the shimmery dress Tristan had sent her that instantly held the masses enrapt.
She didn’t need all that to be a complete showstopper.
The word stunning did not do her justice. Tonight . . . there were no words. Not a single one he could think of to describe Liv. Or how she made him feel as everything inside him went haywire.
Fallon was the first to greet her. They did the double cheek-kiss thing and chatted amiably while other conversations started up again. But there were still plenty of gazes locked on Liv.
Tristan felt the usual stirrings over how entrancing she was—and not just to him and Nate, but to everyone surrounding her.
Liv possessed a beguiling aura that made her personable and approachable, despite being so spectacular it made his heart hurt sometimes. Like now, when she was so close in proximity to him and yet he wondered if she was still too far out of his league.
Devon, ever the carefree billionaire, leaned in and whispered, “Well, she came alone, so that’s a good sign.”
“Seriously having trouble breathing,” Tristan confessed.
“Yeah, I totally get that. The woman she’s talking to is doing the exact same thing to me and Morgan at the moment. Hell . . . every moment.”
“Good call on the commitment ring. Nate mentioned it,” Tristan said. “You don’t want to let that one go. Someone will snatch her up in a heartbeat.”
“Thankfully, she’s hopelessly devoted.” Devon paused, then added, “And the way Liv’s gaze is glued on you, I’m gonna say she just might fall into that category as well.”
“So you’ll understand me concluding the business portion of our evening?”
“Hell, yes.” He chuckled, then sauntered off and collected Fallon, bringing her back to her new family fold of McMillans and Presleys—joined by Morgan’s elegantly coiffed and attired mother, Tova Presley—as Tristan headed toward Liv.
He grabbed two glasses of champagne along the way and handed one over as he reached her. They clinked rims and she smiled sweetly.
“You know I’m a sucker for champagne,” she teased, her amber irises glimmering under the brilliant chandeliers.
“You know you’re stopping a lot of hearts right now?”
Her smile was radiant. “There you go again, you smooth talker. Really, a woman doesn’t need her morning self-affirmations when you’re around.”
“You’re incredibly beautiful.”
“Thank you.” She sipped, then said, “And you in a tux is my absolute favorite—the perfect Hubbell.”
“How many times did you make us watch that movie?”
“It’s a classic,” she scoffed. “And I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a Katie. A somewhat boisterous sort in contrast to your impeccable structure—and Nate’s.”
“That’s not an analogy I prefer.” Tristan took a long drink from his crystal flute, then pinned Liv with a serious look. “In the end, Hubbell didn’t get the girl. Well, he did. But she wasn’t Katie.”