Laughter traveled through the group.
Grant grinned.
The woman didn’t.
She looked directly at him.
Then she said something so quietly that the people closest to them almost missed it.
“You shouldn’t promise someone a chair you don’t own yet.”
The laughter stopped.
Grant’s jaw tightened.
The woman picked up the coffee pot.
“Enjoy your evening, sir.”
She walked away.
Camille stared after her.
“Who is she?”
“Nobody.”
Grant finished his champagne.
But he kept looking toward the service doors.
For the next twenty minutes, he attempted to return to his guests.
It didn’t work.
Her sentence remained in his head.
A chair you don’t own yet.
It annoyed him because it sounded like a warning.
Eventually, Grant excused himself.
He found her in a quiet corridor behind the ballroom.
She was standing beside a service station, writing something in a small notebook.
Grant approached.
“Are you taking notes about me?”
She closed the notebook.
“I take notes about many things.”
“What’s your name?”
“Claire.”
“Claire what?”
“Does it matter?”
Grant smiled without humor.
“It might if you’re looking for another job tomorrow.”
For the first time, her expression changed.
Not fear.
Disappointment.
“Is that how you solve problems?”
“What problems?”
“The ones that speak back.”
Grant stared at her.
She turned to leave.
He stepped aside, blocking the corridor.
“Wait.”
Claire stopped.
Grant reached into his jacket and removed a slim money clip.
“I made you an offer.”
“No. You made yourself the center of a joke.”
“Fine. Let me make it real.”
He pulled out several bills.
“Five thousand dollars.”
Claire glanced at the money.
“For what?”
“Go onto the stage.”
“And?”
“Tell everyone why they should keep investing in this hotel.”
“You want me to embarrass myself.”
“I want entertainment.”
“Same thing, from your perspective.”
Grant laughed.
“Ten thousand.”
Claire studied him.
“What happens if I do well?”
“You won’t.”
“But if I do?”
Grant slipped the money back into his pocket.
“You want a job in management? An introduction? A recommendation?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Claire looked toward the ballroom doors.
“Three minutes.”
“For what?”
“Three uninterrupted minutes on that stage.”
Grant smiled.
“That’s all?”
“And you don’t interfere.”
“Done.”
Claire extended her hand.
Grant shook it.
Her grip was surprisingly firm.
“One more thing,” she said.
“What?”
“When this is over, don’t pretend nobody warned you.”
Grant laughed as he walked back toward the ballroom.
He had no idea what she meant.
Forty minutes later, the charity auction ended.
The master of ceremonies returned to the stage and adjusted his microphone.
Grant had almost forgotten about Claire.
Then the hotel manager appeared beside him.
His face was pale.
“Mr. Halston.”
Grant turned.
“What?”
“Did you speak with a woman named Claire Arden tonight?”
Grant frowned.
“Claire?”
“The woman working with the service team.”
“I spoke with one of the waitresses, yes.”
The manager stared at him.
“She isn’t a waitress.”
Grant’s stomach tightened slightly.
“What are you talking about?”
Before the manager could answer, the lights above the stage changed.
The master of ceremonies cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, before we conclude tonight’s event, one of our principal partners has requested a few minutes.”
Grant looked toward the service doors.
Claire walked into the ballroom.
She was still wearing black.
There was no glittering transformation.
No dramatic gown.
No diamonds.
She had simply removed the service apron and put on a dark tailored jacket.
But the room reacted immediately.
One investor stood.
Then another.
A silver-haired banker near Grant whispered, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
Camille turned toward him.
“Grant… who is she?”
He didn’t answer.
Claire climbed the steps to the stage.
The master of ceremonies handed her the microphone.
“Dr. Claire Arden,” he announced, “chair of the Northbridge Heritage Fund.”
Grant felt the blood leave his face.
Northbridge.
The name was everywhere in the restoration documents.
Northbridge Heritage Fund had financed nearly a third of the Arclight project.
And Claire Arden controlled its voting committee.
She looked across the ballroom.
When her eyes reached Grant, she paused.
“Good evening.”
The room became completely silent.
“I wasn’t scheduled to speak tonight.”
A few nervous laughs.
“But earlier this evening, someone offered me three uninterrupted minutes to explain why this hotel deserves continued investment.”
Grant could feel hundreds of eyes turning toward him.
Claire continued.
“I intend to use them.”
She looked around the ballroom.
“This building is magnificent.”