Page 58 of The Vow Thief
I kept telling myself it was her confidence that caught my attention, but that wasn’t the truth. It was the way she looked at me when she spoke, like she already knew how I’d respond. Like she was testing her theory and winning.
There was nothing accidental about Julianne Raines. She was built for precision. The kind of woman who could convince you she needed help while dismantling you with a smile.
We sat in the conference room, the scent of rain and magnolia sneaking in from the street. She had notes on tone, seasonality, and donor psychology. She had notes on my notes. It should have been irritating, but it wasn't.
“Do you ever let anything be easy?” I asked.
“Only brunch,” she said.“Everything else requires strategy.”
We finished the deck. She checked her phone, then looked up as if deciding something.
“I have a donor gala Saturday. Arts endowment. Black tie, small, nothing that will end up on national news. I would rather not go alone. If you are free.”
I hesitated for the shape of a breath. There was no rule against it. There was only a history I did not feel like borrowing from.
“Fine,” I said.“I can be charming for two hours.”
“Three,” she said.“There is always an after.”
Chapter 26 - Oh Holy Night
Saturday came dressed in coastal humidity and a sky that could not decide whether to rain. I dressed in the tux I hadn’t worn since my partner announcement party; it still smelled fresh from the dry cleaners. I took a big drink from my glass of Jefferson Reserve, the brown liquid warmed my insides and relaxed my nerves. Why was I nervous?
At seven-thirty, Julianne met me in the marble lobby of the Francis Marion Hotel. The ballroom lights glowed beyond the open doors, a warm hum of gold and music spilling into the lobby. She wore a floor-length satin gown in midnight blue, the kind of fabric that moved like water when she walked. The dress clung to her like loyalty, a single strap sweeping over one shoulder. She was breathtaking.
“You look handsome,” she said, smiling, a cute chuckle bubbling out of her.
“And you look beautiful. I’m the luckiest man alive tonight.” Her smile widened.“This old thing,” she said with a southern accent.
Inside, the room hummed. Glasses clinked, stringed instruments played in the background just light enough to make you feel social.
She introduced me to donors, board members, and even a few colleagues. I said the right things and meant enough of them to be convincing.
We moved together well. She laughed at my dry humor.
A photographer drifted near the stage and near us. He had a sponsor badge and a bored smile. I knew he was there to snap a photo, and when I turned Julianne around to stage a candid, he clicked.
Then I saw him again as we took our seats for the auction. He captured us again.
During the auction, she leaned in.“This is the part that always gets me going,” she said, eyes fixed on the raised paddles and the calm faces behind them.“They dress it up as generosity, but it’s hunger. They see what they want and find a way to make wanting it look important. That’s the beauty of money, Matt. It lets people win politely.”
I stared at her. Actually, I was already undressing her. I walked around most of the night with a semi-hard on and dirty thoughts.
Our personal photographer, because that was what he felt like by then, snapped us close, mid-dip, both of us laughing. It started to feel strange, the way his lens kept finding us.
When we stepped outside, the air had cooled. She smiled at me across the car roof, and sure enough, there he was again, snapping one last shot as I cursed myself for not opening her door like a proper southern gentleman.
“Nightcap,” she said. It wasn’t a question.
“Of course,” I said. Smiling at her nonchalance.
As soon as we got in the car, Julianne exhaled, almost laughing.“God, what a night. I had three of our biggest donors there tonight, and they actually looked impressed. The auction pulled in nearly double what we projected.” She turned toward me, her eyes still lit from the evening.“You were great, by the way. You made it all look effortless.”
“Effortless,” I repeated with a smile.“That’s new for me.”
She tilted her head, studying me.“You didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.”
“I usually hate those things,” I said.“The small talk, the posture, the pretending to care about the right kind of wine.” I glanced at her, then back at the road.“But tonight was different. I actually had fun. Because of you.”
