Read Online The Risk: A Billionaire Romance (Wagered Hearts Series, Book 2) by Calista Kyle - Free Book Online
Authors: Calista Kyle
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excited?”
“Ugh, don’t even get me started on that,” I groaned. “We’ve been working nonstop on that party and I’m pretty sick of it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “So, you’re going to be there?”
“Yeah I’ve got to work that night— basically making sure things run smoothly.”
“That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to find another date to the party,” he said, giving me a wicked smile.
I didn’t even register his words for a moment and stared at him blankly. “Uh, yeah,” I finally managed to say after an awkward silence.
“Well, I’ll let you two get back to work,” he laughed, before walking back towards the elevators.
I sank back into my chair, buried my face in my hands and groaned. “Why do I constantly sound like an idiot around that man?” I asked.
“Because you like him,” Candace said bluntly.
I lifted my head up and looked at her. “Oh God, I think I do.”
Candace patted my back consolingly. “It’s all right. No one can blame you. He’s pretty much perfect and if you hadn’t already staked your claim on him, I’d probably be in danger of it too.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Just go with the flow,” she answered, simply.
I didn’t argue that it was easier said than done. I’d “gone with the flow” too many times before, living recklessly and without a care in the world. After getting burned one too many times, I’d finally learned to hold back when it came to matters of the heart. I’d always considered myself a hopeless romantic, but after Chad left, something in me changed. Maybe it was because I’d invested so much time and effort into the relationship, but to have that one go the way of all the others was like a slap in the face. Maybe there was something wrong with me after all, and my mother was right when she always told me I was a screw up.
“Don’t worry about it now. It’s not like he asked you to marry him,” Candace tried to joke after I’d remained silent.
“You’re right,” I managed to say. “I should be focusing on work anyway. There’s still so much I have to do before the party, and now I have to worry about the photo shoot on top of it all.”
Chapter 8: Mel
I stood outside in the cold with a clipboard in my hand. My mother was adamant that her party run smoothly and any party crashers were turned away at the door. So there I was in my silk chiffon Givenchy gown wearing my LL Bean parka over it. It was unseasonably cold for April and my teeth chattered as I stood there with that damned guest list in my hand, the bane of my existence for the past several months.
I’d already had to turn away several reality stars and tabloid favorites from the front door. It wasn’t a job I relished, and their loud and angry protests as they were denied entrance only made the situation worse. Paparazzi were lined up right outside of the velvet ropes, gleefully snapping shots and filming video of all the arrivals and denials. I actually felt bad for the people that got turned away. You could see how desperately they wanted to get in and to feel accepted. But having lots of money wasn’t enough.
My mother prided herself on being discriminating and throwing the most exclusive parties for only the best of the best. It was why everyone was so desperate to get in. She had a certain talent for making people either feel like they were on top of the world, or like the shit on the bottom of a shoe. This was just another way for her to wield her power over people.
I remembered back to last year, when I’d finally gotten an invitation to one of her famous parties—the Eichendorf Gala. As a little girl, I had always dreamed of going when I grew up. I begged my mother for years to allow me to go, but she’d always say I was too young or too unsophisticated, and she didn’t want to babysit me all evening.
By the time I graduated college, I had all but given up hope that she’d ever let me attend. Even though I was her only
“Ugh, don’t even get me started on that,” I groaned. “We’ve been working nonstop on that party and I’m pretty sick of it.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “So, you’re going to be there?”
“Yeah I’ve got to work that night— basically making sure things run smoothly.”
“That’s too bad. I guess I’ll have to find another date to the party,” he said, giving me a wicked smile.
I didn’t even register his words for a moment and stared at him blankly. “Uh, yeah,” I finally managed to say after an awkward silence.
“Well, I’ll let you two get back to work,” he laughed, before walking back towards the elevators.
I sank back into my chair, buried my face in my hands and groaned. “Why do I constantly sound like an idiot around that man?” I asked.
“Because you like him,” Candace said bluntly.
I lifted my head up and looked at her. “Oh God, I think I do.”
Candace patted my back consolingly. “It’s all right. No one can blame you. He’s pretty much perfect and if you hadn’t already staked your claim on him, I’d probably be in danger of it too.”
“What am I going to do?”
“Just go with the flow,” she answered, simply.
I didn’t argue that it was easier said than done. I’d “gone with the flow” too many times before, living recklessly and without a care in the world. After getting burned one too many times, I’d finally learned to hold back when it came to matters of the heart. I’d always considered myself a hopeless romantic, but after Chad left, something in me changed. Maybe it was because I’d invested so much time and effort into the relationship, but to have that one go the way of all the others was like a slap in the face. Maybe there was something wrong with me after all, and my mother was right when she always told me I was a screw up.
“Don’t worry about it now. It’s not like he asked you to marry him,” Candace tried to joke after I’d remained silent.
“You’re right,” I managed to say. “I should be focusing on work anyway. There’s still so much I have to do before the party, and now I have to worry about the photo shoot on top of it all.”
Chapter 8: Mel
I stood outside in the cold with a clipboard in my hand. My mother was adamant that her party run smoothly and any party crashers were turned away at the door. So there I was in my silk chiffon Givenchy gown wearing my LL Bean parka over it. It was unseasonably cold for April and my teeth chattered as I stood there with that damned guest list in my hand, the bane of my existence for the past several months.
I’d already had to turn away several reality stars and tabloid favorites from the front door. It wasn’t a job I relished, and their loud and angry protests as they were denied entrance only made the situation worse. Paparazzi were lined up right outside of the velvet ropes, gleefully snapping shots and filming video of all the arrivals and denials. I actually felt bad for the people that got turned away. You could see how desperately they wanted to get in and to feel accepted. But having lots of money wasn’t enough.
My mother prided herself on being discriminating and throwing the most exclusive parties for only the best of the best. It was why everyone was so desperate to get in. She had a certain talent for making people either feel like they were on top of the world, or like the shit on the bottom of a shoe. This was just another way for her to wield her power over people.
I remembered back to last year, when I’d finally gotten an invitation to one of her famous parties—the Eichendorf Gala. As a little girl, I had always dreamed of going when I grew up. I begged my mother for years to allow me to go, but she’d always say I was too young or too unsophisticated, and she didn’t want to babysit me all evening.
By the time I graduated college, I had all but given up hope that she’d ever let me attend. Even though I was her only
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