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to several VIPs that included top models, recording artists, and everyone’s favorite reality TV stars, Snookie included. While I was cordially smiley-faced with all of them, my mind was focused on Jaime and Vivien. What was with them? My eyes searched the pulsing crowd, but I could no longer find them. Had Jaime left with her? My mental ramblings came to a halt when Kevin told me that he had to split and get the charity auction for Rihanna’s diamond-studded bra and thong started. I was not standing alone for long.
    “Gloria, lovely to see you.” The cold, affected drawl was unmistakable. Victor Holden, Vivien’s father. My multi-billionaire biggest shareholder and Chairman of the Board.
    He cupped his hands on my bare shoulders. His fingers, as usual, were as icy as his voice. With a shiver that shimmied down my spine, I spun around to face him.
    Victor was in his mid fifties though his fit body and handsome face made him look at least ten years younger. He was a tall, lean, debonair man with slicked back salt and pepper hair, a permanent tan, and elegant features that included piercing steel gray eyes and an aquiline nose. Wearing an expensive tweed jacket, open-button dress shirt, and well-cut gabardine trousers, he exuded old money. A shrewd businessman, he was known for making vulnerable companies his prey. Many on Wall Street called him “The Vulture.”
    His eyes roamed down my body, lingering on places they had no right to be. But he felt he had the right to claim. He was always hitting on me. I was his prey too. I inwardly shuddered as he planted a wet kiss on each cheek.
    “Well done today, darling. I’m sure the show will drive first quarter sales. Our shareholders will be pleased.”
    “Thank you, Victor.” I hated when he called me “darling.” The less I said to him the better. I always tried to keep it to dollars and cents.
    “Why don’t we celebrate with a dance?”
    The last thing I wanted to do was dance with him. He moved uncomfortably close to me. The rancid smell of cigarettes mixed with alcohol on his breath assaulted my senses. He squeezed my jaw.
    “Don’t disappoint me, Gloria.” He squeezed my jaw tighter.
    “Please, Victor, you’re hurting me.” I jerked away. My pashmina shawl fell off my shoulders to the floor. Before I could bend down to pick it up, it was back on me, draped perfectly over my dress. I instantly recognized the scent of my hero. Jaime!
    “Sorry, she’s with me,” he growled, wrenching me away from Victor. Their eyes clashed, the air between them thick with tension and animosity. Unspoken words flew between them. Victor’s eyes narrowed into sharp slivers of glass as Jaime led me deeper into the crowd. As we neared the bar, I stole a glance back at Victor. He stood there motionless, his glacial eyes fixed on me. It was not the look of defeat but rather that of a man who wouldn’t take “no” for answer. He frightened me.
    “Do you know who that was?” I asked Jaime.
    “A fucking asshole.” His face hardened.
    “Do you know he’s the Chairman of—
    “Yeah, I know,” he said, cutting me off. “I don’t give a flying fuck.”
    His contempt for Victor shocked and enthralled me. “He could get in the way of you winning the Gloria’s Secret account.”
    His jaw stiffened. “He won’t.” It softened. “Do you want a drink?”
    “I’d love one,” a female voice responded. Slinking up to us was Victor’s daughter, Vivien, dressed to the nines in a fuchsia strapless bandage dress that hugged her curves and pushed up her D-cup boobs. Matching platform stilettos completed her ensemble. She flung back her loose ebony hair with a shake of her head, and gave Jaime a wide toothy predatory smile.
    “Later,” Jaime said coolly.
    Vivien’s face took on the expression of a miffed spoiled little rich girl who was used to getting anything she wanted. She glowered at me as she sauntered off. My face didn’t move a muscle. Bitch!
    “So where were we?”