Page 11 of Remembering Passion

“Yes, Ella, I know that.”

“Gabriella,” Niles, a good friend and associate from the Carmel office, called as we stepped off the elevator.

“Niles.” My friend looked as handsome as ever in his gray suit and his long brown hair tied back in a ponytail at the base of his neck. The suit pants were narrow, and the jacket fitted, accentuating his toned body. The black shirt and white tie popped in a classy as well as metro way.

Niles turned to Damien and extended his hand. “Damien Sinclair. I’m Niles Watson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Beta Kappa Phi would love to have an association with Sinclair Pharmaceuticals.” Niles looked from Damien to me. “Do you two know each other?”

“Old friends,” Damien answered, shaking Niles’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Watson.”

I took a step forward. “Niles and I have some work to do before the fun begins.”

Damien’s deep timbre resonated through me as he spoke with a grin. “The offer stands.”

With a nod to Damien, I began walking with Niles toward the ballroom where the dinner and presentations would be held. As we did, I contemplated the offer Damien mentioned.

Was it to walk me to my room or ravish me?

Niles lowered his volume as we walked among other patrons. “Ella, shame on you.”

Were my thoughts that visible?

“For what?”

“You’ve known Damien Sinclair—you’re old friends—and you never mentioned him. Wait until I talk to Kevan. He’s been wanting to land Sinclair Pharmaceuticals for years.”

Despite our friendship, I wasn’t ready to open that part of my past to Niles. “Damien is only here because he’s a friend of Donovan Sherman.”

“There will be so much money in that ballroom tonight.”

Gabriella

The gala proceeded like the well-oiled machine it was. VIPs and donors arrived. The bars were stocked, and the waiters were plentiful, circulating with trays of champagne and others with hors d’oeuvres. Even though I hadn’t spent the flight going over the guest list, this was my third gala, and I recognized most of the guests.

There was the one new face.

And every time I turned, it seemed that Damien was near.

Whether I was talking with a guest, a hotel employee, or an associate, his shimmering, protective gaze was on me. I felt his presence even when I didn’t see him.

The cocktail hour was a success as Niles and I worked the room along with other associates from other offices. At our pre-dinner huddle, we calculated that we secured enough donations to carry Beta Kappa Phi through the first two quarters of next year. It was a start.

By the time I made it to my table, mine was the only empty seat.

Somehow, the place cards had been moved, landing me at Damien’s side.

“Strange,” I whispered to Damien. “It seems my place card was moved.”

“Your lucky day.”

“Gabriella,” Donovan Sherman said, offering me his hand. “I’ve heard many good things about you.”

It took every ounce of self-control not to look over at Damien. He and Donovan were friends. I could only imagine what he’d heard.

Instead, I pressed on. “Mr. Sherman, thank you again for attending this event. Beta Kappa Phi appreciates your support.”

“Ms. Crystal.”

I turned to see Walter Phillips, another VIP donor, standing behind my chair. “Mr. Phillips.”

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