“Well, as far as I’m concerned, her accepting that award from him would be poetic justice for the way he put himself above her.”
Josh declines to comment, which isn’t a surprise, since Macom is his biggest client. “You’re already a winner tonight,” he says to me. “I need to handle a few things. Go upstairs. Drink. Eat. Revel in this night. In half an hour, I’m going to find you and you will come with me. We will meet some powerful people you need to know.” He leaves.
Nick turns me toward the lobby, his arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”
“You loved the chocolate?”
“I’d love it better melted and on you, so I could lick it off. Let’s decide that’s going to happen sometime this weekend.”
I laugh. “You’re so damn bad, Nick Rogers.”
“In case you didn’t get the memo, I’m not a nice guy. You think Macom noticed?”
I laugh, and we’re about to head up a winding set of stairs when a couple in their late fifties to early sixties, and in casual wear, steps in front of us. “Nick Rogers,” the man says. “Holy hell. It is you.”
“David,” Nick says, shaking his hand before looking at the woman. “Elizabeth.” His hand returns to my back. “This is Faith.”
“Nice to meet you, Faith,” they both murmur.
“What brings you to L.A.?” the man asks. “Playing shark, or what is it, Tiger?”
“Actually, Faith is a gifted artist that’s in the L.A. Art Forum.” Pride fills his voice and warms my heart. This man supports me. He loves me. Life is good and Macom is a blip on the screen.
“Oh my,” Elizabeth says. “You’re an artist, Faith? That’s why we’re here. We’re going to the public event tomorrow. I can’t wait to see your work. We love to discover new artists.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’d love to have you view my work.”
“And on that note,” Nick says, “we have a party to celebrate her art tonight.”
“Understood,” David says. “But as a quick side note, we’re actually considering taking our company public. We’d like to have you on board.”
“That’s a conversation for Monday. This weekend is about Faith.”
“Of course it is,” Elizabeth says. “We will see you tomorrow, Faith.” She touches my arm. “Good luck.”
And then they are gone and we are walking up the stairs. “Were they important?”
“He’s worth about a billion dollars.”
“Nick. You just blew him off.”
“Tonight isn’t about him. If he has a problem with that, fuck him.”
“Nick Rogers,” I say, giving his sleeve a tiny tug, that earns me the focus of those navy blue eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I’m a little too crazy about you.”
“Not yet,” he says, giving me a wink that does funny things to my belly. “But we’re getting there.”
We reach the second level and the entire floor is literally the party, clusters of women in fancy dresses and men in sharp suits everywhere. Elegant multi-colored chandeliers dangle at random locations from above. Waiters work the crowd with drinks and there are tables filled with finger foods. “We still haven’t eaten,” Nick says. “Shall we grab a few snacks?”
“I’ll drop it, spill it, and generally make a mess.” I glance at him. “I need to know which three pieces they picked.”
“I’d like to know, too,” he says, motioning me toward a sign that leads to the display room while another, next to it, points to the ceremony’s location.
We walk that way. “Why am I suddenly so nervous?”