She Was Cornered at a Gala, Not Knowing the Man Who Stepped In Was a Billionaire Falling for Her
The Rescue at the Grand Meridian
The champagne flute trembled in Zoe Abbott’s hand as Marcus Reinhardt, her boss’s most obnoxious client, backed her against the gilded wall of the Grand Meridian Hotel Ballroom. His cologne, expensive but overpowering, made her eyes water as he leaned closer, oblivious to her discomfort.
“A research assistant like you should know how to network properly,” Marcus said, his eyes drifting to her neckline instead of her face.
“Why don’t we discuss your career aspirations somewhere more private?”
Zoe tightened her grip on her champagne, calculating whether the satisfaction of throwing it in his face would be worth losing her job. She had worked for the prestigious art authentication firm for just eight months.
The annual art preservation gala was the biggest networking event of the year, and she was blowing it spectacularly.
“I appreciate your interest in my career,” she said carefully, “but I’m actually quite comfortable discussing it right here.”
Marcus’s smile tightened.
“Don’t be difficult, Zoe. A little gratitude goes a long way in this industry.”
Just as Zoe prepared to risk her professional future with a scathing response, a deep voice cut through their conversation.
“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
A tall, broad-shouldered man in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit appeared beside them, his presence commanding immediate attention. With dark hair styled precisely and eyes the color of burnished amber, he exuded confidence without effort.
He extended his hand to Zoe, not to Marcus.
“I believe we had arranged to discuss the Caravaggio authentication. I’m afraid I’m running late.”
Zoe stared at him, momentarily confused. They had no such arrangement, but his eyes held a clear message: play along.
“Yes, of course,” she said, taking his offered hand. “I was just wrapping up here.”
Marcus straightened, suddenly uncertain.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. Marcus Reinhardt, Reinhardt Galleries.”
“Sebastian Xavier,” the stranger replied, his handshake brief but firm.
“Pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse us, Miss Abbott and I have important matters to discuss.”
Before Marcus could respond, Sebastian guided Zoe away with a light touch at her elbow. He navigated through the crowd with practiced ease.
“Thank you,” Zoe whispered when they were safely across the ballroom. “That was becoming uncomfortable.”
Sebastian’s smile transformed his serious face.
“I’ve met enough Reinhardts to recognize a rescue mission when I see one. Are you all right?”
“I am now.”
Zoe studied him, trying to place his face.
“Though I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but we haven’t actually met before, have we?”
“We haven’t,” he admitted. “But your reputation precedes you. Your paper on scientific methods of Renaissance art authentication was exceptional.”
Zoe blinked in surprise. Her paper had been published in a niche academic journal, not exactly popular reading material.
“You read that?”
“I make it my business to follow innovations in art authentication,” Sebastian said, “especially when they come from unexpected places.”
