Page 33 of My Ruthless Opponent

I waste no time getting the hell out of the room.

It was on the tip of my tongue. I was seconds away from rubbing Mr. Smith’s name in his face.

But the satisfaction of giving him the newsafterMr. Smith signed with us would be immense.

Patience. All I need to hold on to for now is patience.

???

I bring the flute of champagne to my lips.

Taking a small sip, I scan the ballroom of the luxurious hotel.

It’s been twenty minutes and Mr. Smith is a no-show.

I am feeling all kinds of sensations in my stomach. Butterflies.

I am used to galas such as this one. I have attended many in the past. Watched socialites wearing expensive gowns with their powerful husbands countless times.

This is nothing new. Yet, I am feeling jittery.

It must be because I have been anticipating this night for the past few days.

I have practiced introducing myself to Mr. Smith so many times, I even dreamed about it. And now that the day is finally here, I can’t help the anxiety.

My usual armor is in place. My attire and makeup.

I’m wearing a sparkling rose gold sequin off-the-shoulder gown with a slit exposing my thigh. My makeup matches the outfit. Shimmering and eye-catchy. Still, I can’t help the anxiousness.

Before I know it, I have downed the bubbly liquid and am lifting another flute of champagne from the waiter passing me by.

I walk further into the room, laughter, and murmurs of the guests echoing around me.

The glow of the magnificent chandeliers is complimenting my dress, a soft feminine voice lilting the atmosphere with her song. Yet I am panicking here.

My hand feels sweaty around my clutch.

I spot many familiar faces from the advertising industry. Like me, even they are here for Mr. Smith.

There are even celebrities and models mingling around.

I need to steel myself. I can’t have nervousness wobbling my voice in front of Mr. Smith. First impressions are important.

I believe that a first impression can never be the last impression. But I can’t expect a busy man like Victor Smith to follow that. The first five minutes would seal my fate. I have to impress him in that short time.

I look up at the second level. What if Mr. Smith is upstairs and I am looking for him here like a complete fool?

I cross to the grand staircase that leads up to the second level.

Floral arrangements at the banister and around the room are exquisite.

The red stair runner muffles the clicking of my heels as I climb up the stairs.

It isn’t long before I catch a glimpse of what I was looking for.

A group of people is huddled to my left.

I can’t see who they are talking to but it’s apparent by the eagerness in their body language that the person they all are circling is important.

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