The air in the room changes as he strolls onto the stage like a man who owns time, his tall, confident posture and smooth hand gestures showing no sign of nerves. When he reaches the podium, he gives the crowd a crooked smile, and everyone claps. Somehow, before he even speaks, he has total command of the room.
I sit on the edge of my seat, watching his projection on the big screen. The three tiers of seating surrounding the stage give all 2000 of us an exceptional view of him. He has so many eyes on him from all angles. How does he cope?
Is this the same man whose house I left this morning?
In his confident and controlled voice, he projects over every speaker, giving Churchill a run for his money. His crisp white shirt shows off his athletic figure. His sleeves are normally rolled up to his elbows, but today they are cuffed and tightened by cufflinks. I get a flashback of this morning when he was wearing nothing but his shirt, unbuttoned.
How lucky am I? There isn’t a chance in hell that every woman in this room isn’t dreaming about what he’s like in bed.
I bite my lip to stifle a smile. I try to concentrate as he tells us about the top achievements of the company this year and the long-term strategic vision. Who knew that the financial forecast would be so arousing? The only thing I can focus on is that mouth enlarged on the screen. The mouth that spent twenty minutes between my legs last night, making me moan.
He pauses between sentences like he has all the time in the world. Every sentence is composed, eloquent, said with precision, and it’s the hottest damn speech I’ve ever heard. I know he’s accustomed to doing TedTalks. I watched a few of his talks that have over a million views last week, and I was ashamed of myself for not knowing who he was when we met in Mykonos.
Next up is the awards ceremony for the best talent. Lawyers wait their turn to receive awards and shake hands with him. Mara, the hot redhead who attended the intern welcome drinks, walks onstage. The men in the room visibly perk up as she is broadcast on the big screen. I feel a twinge of jealousy as the commenter lists her achievements for the year. She simmers towards Tristan, and he smiles broadly at her, whispering something inaudible to the audience.
Seeing his smouldering gaze on her, I wonder for the umpteenth time if I’m taking this too seriously. She’s already an established lawyer and gorgeous as hell. What’s he doing with me?
I don’t see much of Tristan after the awards ceremony. We had a packed schedule of breakaway groups all afternoon tailored to the different industry sectors. I’m wrecked, moving from talk to talk, so I can’t think what he must be like as the centre of attention all day.
After 6 p. m., one of the conference rooms becomes a bar.
Half the attendees have left, some to catch flights back to other parts of the UK, but hundreds of us are still packed into the conference area, accepting complimentary champagne and wine from circulating waiters. It’s the whole point of why we turned up. With no dinner and free drinks, the drunk level in the room increases a notch.
I’m talking to Juan, a senior lawyer at Sophie’s level.
“I work in Financial Services under Sophie,” I say, nodding in her direction, hoping to include her in the conversation. Juan is easy on the eye but is a bit too intense. Unfortunately, Sophie is just out of reach. “I’m also shadowing on the Garcia case. It’s an amazing learning experience.”
As he steps into my personal space, I retreat subtly. We continue to play this game until he has me backed into a corner.
“Under Tristan Kane?” he asks with a gleam in his eye.
“Uh-huh.”
“He must have a personal interest in that case,” he muses. “Do you know what it is?” His eyes search my face for inside information.
I shake my head. “I’m just there to shadow and support.”
Juan looks disappointed. “I’d love for us to go for a coffee some time,” he drawls, placing his hand on my lower back. “I’ve spent four years in Financial Services. I can give you some guidance.”
Now I’m in a dilemma. It should be perfectly routine for a senior lawyer to invite a trainee for coffee to discuss work at a work conference. It might even look unprofessional to turn him down. The ask is professional.
But I understand the language of flirt and a hand on your lower back translates as I want you on your back. I can tell by his look that he has no intention of remaining professional on our coffee date.
I smile, guarded. “Sure.”
A waiter passes, and Juan lifts two more champagnes from the moving silver tray and puts down my empty flute.
“Oh, I’m not sure if I want another…” My voice trails off as I see Tristan and Mara deep in conversation on the other side of the room. The other two people are listening in on their conversation, but it is clear that the discussion is mostly between them. Unease washes over me. Tristan is focused solely on Mara. He smiles intently at her, and she leans forward so that he can hear what she is saying.
Mara talks the language of flirt as well. Her head tilts up towards him, eyes sparkling. Gentle nudges, open mouth, exposed neck, hair flicking, the woman could write the flirt manual. And why wouldn’t she flirt? As far as everyone is concerned, he is single.
I turn back to Juan. His hand drops lower now, now a questionable line between lower back and upper ass.
“Actually, I will have another.”
Juan hands me the champagne and I take a sip. He looks delighted in the sudden mood shift as I clink my flute with his.
His hand curls around my waist.
My phone vibrates in my bag. “One sec,” I say, retrieving the phone. Terry flashes on the screen. My fake name for Tristan in case anyone saw his number at work.
“Excuse me,” I say to Juan with fake regret.
“Hello?” I answer the phone and turn to face him. His phone is in his ear as he leans against the bar out of range of Mara’s hearing. His face is taut.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I hear his voice as I lip-read him across the room while we stare at each other. “What?” Flinching, I move away from Juan so he doesn’t hear the angry tone through the phone.
“Lover boy is very fucking over-familiar, Elly.” His teeth are bared.
My cheeks flush with the heat of his sharp gaze. “So, it’s okay for you to talk to a colleague but not for me?”
“Are you trying to make me jealous?” His voice is strained.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. My life doesn’t revolve around you, Tristan. You might be the boss, but you don’t get to dictate who I talk to.” We glare at each other, silently.
Finally, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Make your excuses and meet me on the third floor. Take the stairs to your left and say you’re going to the toilet.”
The phone goes dead, and he returns to Mara and the two lawyers.
Moments later, he walks across the conference room, bypassing everyone trying to hijack him, and proceeds directly to the elevators. His eyes snap to mine with a flash of impatience.
“Excuse me, Juan,” I say distractedly. “I’m going to the bathroom.”