Chapter 7 - The Winter Gala
The annual Northstar Winter Gala was held at the Grand Ballroom of the Drake Hotel, an opulent space featuring crystal chandeliers, gold-leaf molding, and massive arched windows that offered a dramatic view of the snow howling off Lake Michigan.
It was an event designed for display. Men wore velvet tuxedos, women wore arching designer gowns, and the Champagne flowed from multi-tiered fountains.
Maya stood near a marble pillar on the edge of the ballroom, clutching a glass of sparkling water.
She felt like an outsider in a magical realm. Harper had spent three hours helping her prepare, dressing her in a emerald-green silk dress that draped softly over her slender frame, catching the light with every step. Her dark hair was styled in soft, cascading waves, and a thin silver chain—her mother’s—rested delicate against her collarbone.
“You look breathtaking,” Harper whispered, nudging her elbow. “Seriously, Maya, half the guys from logistics have been staring at you all night.”
“I don't care about logistics,” Maya murmured, her eyes involuntarily scanning the crowded ballroom.
She was looking for one man.
He had been absent for the first hour of the event, detained by an emergency board conference call regarding the Asian market opening.
Then, the heavy double doors at the main entrance opened.
The noise of the orchestra seemed to drop an octave as Nathan Cole walked into the ballroom.
He was dressed in a black tie tuxedo that accented his powerful shoulders and lean waist with devastating perfection. His dark hair was brushed back, his jaw cleanly shaved, and his presence was so commanding that conversations stalled as he moved through the room. Beside him walked Lucas Grant, looking equally sharp in dark blue.
Nathan paused near the entrance, nodding politely to senior board members who hurried over to greet him. But his eyes were restless. He swept his gaze over the crowd, searching through the sea of tuxedos and silk dresses until, across fifty feet of polished parquet floor, his dark blue eyes collided with hers.
Maya’s breath hitched in her throat.
Nathan stopped mid-sentence with a senior vice president. Without offering an apology, he stepped around the executive and began walking directly across the crowded ballroom toward her.
The crowd parted naturally before him like water around the bow of a ship.
Harper gasped softly beside Maya. “Okay, that’s my cue to disappear,” she whispered frantically, slipping away behind the marble pillar before Maya could grab her hand.
Maya stood alone as Nathan closed the distance between them.
He stopped three feet away. The ambient noise of two hundred laughing guests faded into a dull, meaningless murmur. Up close, the scent of his cologne—rich, warm, and sophisticated—wrapped around her like an embrace.
His eyes traveled slowly down the emerald green silk of her gown, then returned to her face, resting on her parted lips, before rising to lock into her eyes.
“Maya,” Nathan said, his voice a low, rough whisper that felt like velvet against her skin. “You are the most beautiful thing in this room.”
Maya’s cheeks flushed a soft, delicate pink. Her heart pounded so hard against her ribs she was certain he could hear it over the string quartet.
“Thank you, Mr. Cole,” she whispered. “You look very handsome tonight.”
A faint, self-deprecating smile touched Nathan’s lips. “'Mr. Cole'? We’re at a party, Maya. And after what you accomplished in Rotterdam, I think you can manage my first name.”
Maya looked down at her silver chain, her fingers twisting around the delicate metal. “Nathan,” she murmured testing the weight of it.
Nathan took a slow, deep breath, as if hearing his name from her lips was a drug he had been starved of for months.
“May I have this dance?” Nathan asked softly, extending his large, broad hand toward her, palm up.
Maya looked at his hand. It was strong, calloused slightly at the knuckles, and steady as stone. She knew what accepting this dance meant. In front of the entire company, dancing with Nathan Cole was a public declaration. It was stepping out from behind her shield.
May you like
She looked up into his eyes. There was no pressure in them, no executive command, no demand. Only a quiet, desperate hope.
Slowly, deliberately, Maya raised her small hand and placed it into his palm.
