Page 16 of The Betrayer
“PAUL.”
I looked up at a man pushing his way through the crowd toward me, a stunning redhead trailing behind him.
“John.”
He slapped his hand into mine, pumping my arm up and down for all he was worth. The man’s grip was firm, almost too constricting, but it always had been.
John Arnold competed at absolutely everything, including handshakes. In college, he was my primary friendly rival for everything from pick-up games of basketball and football to head of our class at our Ivy League. John, built like a football player—a sport he had nearly played professionally—with an enormous heaping of natural charisma and smarts, had usually gained the upper hand. The guy had just beaten me to valedictorian, and there wasn’t any doubt our friendly rivalry would continue even after we graduated. Now, even though he was a partner at a major hedge fund management firm, I was the COO of a billion-dollar company.
I had won this round, and we both knew it.
“Pauley.” From the handshake, he pulled me into an enthusiastic hug, but I could still see the slight edge of envy as we withdrew and he looked me up and down. “Well, look at you. Mr. Big Shot. This is quite a party.”
“Thanks.”
I could hear the envy in his tone, too. John attended events like this but didn’t put them on. I felt a swell of gratification at finally having the edge in this most significant way.
“It’s good to see you.” I grinned. “How have you been? You look good.”
“Thanks, man. Marriage agrees with me.” He tugged the redhead forward, who flushed as she shook my hand. She was even more beautiful up close, with thick red hair and large green eyes. Despite his reputation as a perpetual flirt and ladies’ man, Clarissa had caught John’s eye, and he hadn’t looked at anyone since, as far as I knew. From the way she looked at him, his wife felt the same.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t attend your wedding. Tuscany just wasn’t in the card during that last buyout,” I told them both.
“Your gift was too generous,” Clarissa said, waving away my apology.
“Way too generous.” John laughed.
“You’ve done really well for yourself, Pauley.” John clapped me on the shoulder. “Now, the only thing you have to conquer is marriage. Anything in the cards?”
I covered a nervous swallow with a sip of champagne and then nodded my chin toward Angela, who was talking to a couple I didn’t recognize. “My girlfriend is over there in the blue gown.”
“Oh, yeah?” John’s gaze followed mine, lingering appreciatively for a moment before returning to me.
“It’s a pretty new relationship. We’re happy with the way things are right now,” I said, trying to head off any further questions about the future.
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” John clapped me on the shoulder again, this time so hard I nearly pitched forward but managed only to take a balancing step. “We’re going to go mingle. Congrats on the success.”
Again, I heard that edge of envy. Knowing my old classmate as I did, his gratitude wasn’t feigned, either, and I waved them both off with a chuckle as they disappeared into the crowd.
I continued to mingle, greeting old friends and associates and networking as colleagues introduced me to the business elite from around the city I hadn’t yet met.
The evening ticked by, the noise in the enormous room growing until I could barely hear the band. Soon, it would be time for speeches, the dinner, then more speeches, and the auction.
And my father still wasn’t here.
“He’s late,” a voice said by my shoulder.
I looked over to find one of the company’s lawyers by my shoulder. She was my father’s age, short, her once-blonde hair softened by gray, a dove-gray gown swapped for her usual power suit.
“I know,” I sighed. “What am I supposed to do, Rebecca? I’ve been calling and texting all night, and he hasn’t gotten back to me once. The last thing I knew, he was on the course with Mitchell and Lorne.”
“But they’re here, and he’s not.” Rebecca’s outstretched finger indicated the two board members who had been with my father earlier in the day, mingling with their wives at their sides.
“So, what do you want me to do?”
Rebecca shook her head, swiping champagne off a passing server’s tray. “You’re going to have to fill his shoes, Paul.”
I covered my convulsive swallow by finishing the soft golden liquid in my glass, holding back a grimace as the bubbles peppered my throat all the way down. “I know.”
