Right (Wrong 2)

“Everly, what exactly are you working on?” he asks as we head out. The party is being held in the Ritz-Carlton ballroom, so it’s a short walk to the party. Sawyer clasps my hand in his, this thumb rubbing over the back of my hand as we stroll.

“Getting Gabe and Sandra together,” I respond, matter-of-factly.

He tilts his head in my direction. “Gabe and… Sandra?”

“Yeah, obviously. Why do you keep repeating everything I’m saying? Gabe and Sandra. It’s so obvious.”

“My assistant and my Finance VP are not a thing, Everly.”

“Yet.” I shake my head. “You are really short-sighted for an almost-billionaire.”

“And you’re a human resources nightmare.” We’re on the elevator and he rubs a hand over his jaw and closes his eyes.

“Wait, Gabe is your head of finance? I really had him pegged for a tech nerd.”

“Because that matters right now?” He opens his eyes, looking bewildered.

“Oh, he’s like one of the bosses! This just gets yummier and yummier.” I bounce on my toes and clap my hands in delight.

“Everly, I don’t think Gabe and Sandra are attracted to each other. I don’t even think they’re compatible.”

My jaw drops and then I throw up a hand, palm out. “I’ve got this.” I shake my head in disgust. How can he not see it? Then something occurs to me. “Does Gabe have a girlfriend?” I ask, eyes wide.

“I don’t think I should encourage you by entertaining your questions.”

“So that’s a no. Good.” I sigh in relief. We’ve reached the hotel tower of the Ritz-Carlton and we’re taking another elevator to the second floor, the entire space rented out for the party. “Is he into kinky shit?” I ask in a whisper, my eyebrows askance. “What am I working with here?”

“Can we be done talking now?” He stole my line and he knows it, his dimple prominent as he gives me a wink.

“Sure.” I shrug. “I’ve got it from here anyway.”

We check in with the party planner running the event and Sawyer shows me around the space. Clemens Corporation has rented out the entire second-floor space. There’s a buffet set up in the pavilion rooms. Multiple video games are set up with couches and candy buffets in both the rooms on the other side of the rotunda. A bar is open between the two rooms with small round high-top tables stretching from the balcony space all the way to the ballroom, which has music blaring and a live DJ. Another bar, a dance floor, waiters circulating with hors d’oeuvres and a variety of seating options cover the room. It’s already the best party I’ve ever been to.

Then I spot Sandra and I remember I’ve got work to do tonight. Wait. What is she wearing? I blow out a breath as she approaches Sawyer and I, walking in her normal professional gait. Short, quick steps. No nonsense, chin up, back straight. And she’s wearing a suit. A pantsuit, not even a skirt. She might as well be carrying a clipboard. Why does everyone always fight me so hard on my schemes? I mean, I know I didn’t tell her my plans for tonight, but hello? New Year’s Eve party? Is there a better time for her to attempt to get into Gabe’s pants? No. No, there is not. I’m dealing with an amateur. I need to regroup.

We had lunch last week when I stopped by to see Sawyer and found out he was at a meeting in New York. I dragged her out with me, telling her I needed all the details for tonight’s party and a fashion consultation. She’d told me it was an open dress code, meaning the guys showed up in everything from jeans to suits. The women mostly in party dresses, she’d said. So I’d thought we were on the same page.