She’s With Me, The CEO Says At The Venue Door, And She Realizes She Wants That To Be True

The Savior at the Door

The security guard’s hand came up fast, blocking Bella’s path just as the music and laughter from inside the venue swelled through the open door. She stopped short, nearly dropping the portfolio tucked under her arm. Her heels skidded slightly on the polished floor.

The guard was massive, his expression carved from stone. Behind him, she could see the glittering crowd of fashion’s elite mingling at what was clearly the event of the season.

“Name?” he asked, his voice flat.

“Bella Everett. I’m with the catering company. I need to speak with someone about the dessert presentation”.

She tried to sound confident, but her heart hammered against her ribs. This wasn’t technically true. She was a pastry chef at the catering company.

She had taken it upon herself to come here tonight after overhearing that the venue coordinator was panicking about the centerpiece dessert display falling apart. The guard checked his tablet, scrolling with one thick finger.

“Not on the list”.

“But I just talked to someone an hour ago. There was a problem with the—”

“Not on the list”.

Each word landed like a gavel. Bella felt heat crawl up her neck. Through the doorway, she could see the dessert table. Even from here, she could tell the sugar sculpture was tilting dangerously.

Hours of work and her team’s reputation were all about to literally crumble, and this man would not budge.

“Please, I just need five minutes to—”

“She’s with me”.

The voice came from behind her, deep and authoritative. Bella turned to find herself face to face with a man who seemed to draw all the light in the hallway toward him.

He was tall, easily over six feet, with dark hair that looked deliberately tousled and a jawline that belonged on magazine covers. He wore a perfectly tailored navy suit that probably cost more than her monthly rent.

His dark eyes fixed on hers with an intensity that made her breath catch. The security guard’s entire demeanor shifted.

“Mr. Irving, of course. I didn’t realize”.

“It’s fine, Marcus”.

The man placed a hand lightly on Bella’s lower back, the touch sending an unexpected current of awareness through her.

“Come on, we’re already late”.

Bella found herself being guided past the security checkpoint, her mind reeling. She should say something, explain, or thank him, but her tongue felt thick in her mouth.

They passed through the doorway into the venue proper. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across a sea of designer gowns and expensive cologne.

Once they were inside, tucked into a relatively quiet corner near an enormous floral arrangement, the man dropped his hand and stepped back, giving her space.

Up close, he was even more striking, with sharp features softened by the hint of smile lines at the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you,” Bella managed. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t—”

“You would have figured something out. You looked pretty determined”.

His mouth curved slightly.

“I’m Dominic”.

“Bella. And I really do need to fix that dessert display before it collapses and ruins someone’s very expensive shoes”.

He glanced toward the dessert table where the sugar sculpture was now listing at an alarming angle.

“That bad?”

“Worse. The humidity in here is all wrong. I tried to warn them, but—”

She cut herself off. She was babbling. This gorgeous stranger had just rescued her from humiliation, and she was babbling about humidity.

“Sorry, you probably have important people to see”.

“Probably,” he agreed.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he studied her face with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“But I’d rather watch you save dessert. Lead the way”.

Bella wove through the crowd with Dominic following close behind. His presence somehow parted the sea of people more effectively than any “excuse me” could.

When they reached the dessert table, she immediately assessed the damage. The sculpture was minutes from disaster but salvageable if she worked fast.

She set down her portfolio and dug through it for the emergency supplies she always carried. Dominic watched with what appeared to be genuine interest as she pulled out a small torch, wire supports, and a container of sugar mixture.

“Can you hold this?”

She thrust a wire support at him. He took it without hesitation, holding it exactly where she indicated while she worked.

His hands were steady, strong, and sure. She tried not to notice the way his rolled-up sleeves revealed forearms that suggested he did more than sit behind a desk all day.

“You came prepared,” he observed as she delicately applied heat to reattach a section of the sculpture.

“Always. In my line of work, you learn that sugar is beautiful but temperamental”.

She focused on fusing the joint, her hands completely steady despite her awareness of him standing so close.

“Like people, I guess. And which are you? Beautiful or temperamental?”

She nearly dropped her torch. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and the warmth in his gaze made something flip in her stomach.

“I like to think I’m the solution, not the problem”.

“I believe it”.

They worked in comfortable silence for several minutes. Bella made adjustments while Dominic held things in place without being asked twice.

He had good instincts, anticipating what she needed before she requested it. When she finally stepped back to survey her handiwork, the sculpture stood straight and secure.

It was a magnificent crystalline swan that caught the light and threw rainbows across the white tablecloth.

“Crisis averted,” Dominic said. “You made that look easy”.

“Ten years of practice”.

Bella wiped her hands on the towel she’d brought.

“Thank you for the assist. You’re a natural”.

“I’ve been told I’m good with my hands”.

The words hung between them, charged with possibility, and Bella felt color rise in her cheeks again. Before she could formulate a response that didn’t sound flustered, a woman in a severe black dress descended on them.

“Dominic, there you are. The Hartfords have been asking for you, and I need you to speak with the reporter from Vogue about the expansion”.

The woman’s eyes barely grazed over Bella before dismissing her entirely.

“Come along. You can’t hide all evening”.

“I’m not hiding, Vanessa. I’m exactly where I want to be”.

But his tone was polite, and he gave Bella an apologetic look.

“I should handle this. Will you still be here later?”

“I’m not actually on the guest list,” Bella admitted. “I should probably leave before someone realizes”.

“Stay”.

It wasn’t a request so much as a hope, and the sincerity in his voice surprised her.

“Please. I’d like to talk more about temperamental sugar and solutions”.

Vanessa made an impatient sound, but Dominic ignored her, his attention entirely on Bella.

“Okay,” Bella heard herself say. “I’ll stay”.

His smile was like sunrise, transforming his handsome face into something extraordinary.

“Good. Don’t disappear on me, Bella”.

Then he was gone, swept into the glittering crowd by the efficient Vanessa. Bella stood alone by the dessert table, wondering what exactly had just happened.

She’d come here to fix a sugar sculpture and protect her company’s reputation. She hadn’t expected to be rescued by a man who looked like he’d walked out of a fashion shoot and who made her pulse race.

She smoothed down her simple black dress, suddenly aware of how underdressed she was compared to the other guests. But Dominic had looked at her like she was the most interesting person in the room.

That had to mean something, or maybe he was just being kind. Maybe that’s what rich, gorgeous men did at these events when they were bored.

Her practical side tried to assert itself, but it was hard to be cynical when she could still feel the phantom warmth of his hand on her back.

“Excuse me, are you the one who fixed the swan?”

A server had appeared at her elbow, looking relieved.

“Chef Marcus sent me to find you. He wants to thank you personally. He’s been losing his mind over that thing all night”.

Bella followed the server toward the kitchen, grateful for something to do besides standing around feeling out of place.

The kitchen was controlled chaos, a familiar environment that immediately put her at ease. Chef Marcus, a rotund man with kind eyes and sweat beading his forehead, nearly hugged her when he saw her.

“Handiwork was holding. You’re a lifesaver, Bella. A lifesaver”.

“That sculpture was commissioned specifically by the host, and if it had collapsed—” he shuddered dramatically— “you saved me from a very angry CEO”.

“CEO?”

“Dominic Irving. You know, the CEO of Irving Fashion Group? This whole event is his new runway venue launch or something. Very big deal. Very important people”.

Marcus wiped his forehead.

“Very stressful for the catering staff”.

Bella felt something cold settle in her stomach. Dominic Irving. CEO.

This was his event. He wasn’t just some helpful guest; he was the host. She had babbled at him about humidity and handed him wire supports like he was her assistant.

“I didn’t realize,” she managed.

“Well, regardless, you’ve done us all a favor. Now you should get back out there. Enjoy the party. You’ve earned it”.