Chapter 6 - An Unexpected Collision
The ballroom at the St. Regis was a magnificent spectacle of crystal chandeliers, live string quartets, and cascading floral arrangements. Hundreds of well-dressed professionals moved across the polished marble, sipping vintage champagne and talking business.
Marcus greeted me at our table near the stage, handing me a glass of scotch. ""Now that is how an elite architect is supposed to look. Welcome back to the land of the living, Liam.""
""Thanks for dragging me out, Marcus. I actually needed this.""
""Look around,"" Marcus pointed subtly with his glass toward a table across the floor. ""See that group over there? That’s the executive team from Vance & Sterling Developments. They just acquired the historical harbor district. They’re looking for a lead architect to redesign the entire maritime pavilion. A forty-million-dollar project.""
My professional instincts kicked in instantly. ""The maritime pavilion? I wrote a thesis on historical waterfront preservation in grad school. I’ve had concepts for that exact pier for three years.""
""Then you’re in luck,"" Marcus smirked. ""Because the woman standing in the middle of that circle in the emerald green gown is Clara Vance. My first cousin, and the managing partner of the acquisition fund.""
I looked across the room. The woman in the emerald gown was breathtaking, but not in the manufactured, social-media-curated way Maya was. She had sharp, intelligent hazel eyes, dark hair swept up in an elegant chignon, and an effortless, commanding presence. She was laughing with an elderly board member, holding an architectural folio under her arm.
""Come on,"" Marcus said, tugging my sleeve. ""Let me introduce you.""
As we crossed the crowded ballroom, a waiter carrying a tray of red wine stepped backward abruptly to dodge a boisterous guest. He collided directly with Clara Vance.
Two full glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon tipped forward, splashing straight toward her immaculate emerald gown.
Acting purely on instinct, I lunged forward, placing myself between the tumbling glasses and Clara. I caught the tray with my left hand and deflected the falling stemware with my right forearm.
The wine soaked the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket, staining the white cuff dark red, but Clara’s dress remained completely untouched. The heavy silver tray clattered safely onto an empty side table.
""Whoa!"" the waiter gasped, turning white as a sheet. ""I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry, sir!""
""It's alright, accidents happen,"" I said calmly, pulling a linen handkerchief from my pocket to wipe the wine from my hand. ""Nobody got cut. Just clear the glass.""
Clara looked at me, her hazel eyes wide with genuine astonishment. She took in my ruined sleeve, then looked up into my face.
""That was either the most reckless act of chivalry I've ever seen, or you really hated that tuxedo,"" she said, a slow, radiant smile curving her lips.
""The tuxedo had a good run,"" I replied with a grin, tossing the stained handkerchief onto the waiter's tray. ""Besides, red wine on emerald silk would have been an architectural tragedy.""
Marcus stepped up beside us, grinning from ear to ear. ""Clara, meet Liam Miller, the best structural designer in the tristate area and apparently a part-time bodyguard.""
May you like
Clara extended her hand, her grip firm, warm, and confident. ""Liam Miller. I know your work on the Hudson Glass Tower. I’ve been trying to get an appointment with your firm for three weeks.""
""Well,"" I said, looking into her captivating eyes, ""it seems I just dropped in.""
