EMMA DAMIAN 1

Emma

All I could think about was slipping on a pair of comfortable sneakers. My white Chuck Taylor low-tops, nicely broken in after years of use and scuffed just enough to look worn-in, were exactly what I was looking for. But I was more concerned with the level of comfort.

Anything had to be better than zipping around in heels at a million miles per hour. As an event coordinator, though, I had to be more than simply the greatest; I also had to appear the best.

"OK," I responded as I walked along the hall of the Event Hall, a vast facility that had been lavishly adorned for the charity event. "Let's get a status report,"

"Yes, ma'am," Hannah, my bubbly twenty-something assistant, replied, her clipboard in hand and a cheeky smile at me. "The kitchen is set up and ready to start. They'll start throwing out canapes like a blackjack dealer on a hot streak if you say anything."

"Perfect," Hannah's quick steps went click-click-click as she strained to stay up, mine in intentional, steady strides, Hannah's quick steps going click-click-click as she struggled to keep up. "How about the seating – we've got that covered." "

"I was just taking a break before you called. There's seating for two hundred and fifty people in there, with lots more in the cocktail area - more than enough for everyone who's coming."

I came to a halt. "Are you serious?"

Hannah, little and cute, her elf-like features framed by a short, pixie-style hairdo, gave me the wide-eyed grin she often gave me when she realized she was about to get yelled out. She said, "Um, yeah." "At charity events, guests are always accompanied by plus-ones and twos. I wanted to make sure that everyone had ample room."

"No way," I murmured as I walked down the corridor toward the enormous double doors at the end. "Get rid of any additional tables and chairs you have."

"What? "

Hannah was an excellent assistant - and she'd have to be after working alongside me for the past five years. But she may be overly accommodating, and she's always a touch naive about how to pull off the season's biggest event.

"You heard what I said. We want this celebration to be a one-of-a-kind event. That means no one who isn't on the list, and I mean no one, will be admitted. I don't care if the mayor of the city shows up; her name isn't on the list, and she won't be seated."

"However, don't we want more people to come here? More people, after all, equals more money."

"More people equals more mayhem, more squabbling over seats, and more mouths to feed and drink." It isn't worth the trouble. Not only that, but we want individuals to feel as if they missed out on something important by not being able to attend. And next year, when we have the same event, people will be lining up around the block to get in. When it comes to these high-society individuals, believe me when I say that FOMO is powerful."

"FOMO? "

"Fear of losing out," I slyly explained. I kept moving as I turned toward the doors. "Besides, the auction will be televised live." Anyone interested in bidding can do so from the comfort of their opulent home. I did the math and we're not losing any money by keeping this event as exclusive as eff."

As we went, Hannah smiled, recognizing the wisdom of my remarks. I came to a halt again, around a dozen feet from the main events space's side doors.

"I'm taking a detour," I said. "Let's have a look around the kitchen."

"Way to go."

I took a detour, opening a plain door and walking through it. On the other hand, the kitchen was a behemoth, industrial-sized, with stainless-steel surfaces and appliances glistening under the harsh overhead lighting. A dozen or more kitchen personnel whizzed around, shouting commands as they prepared the evening's menu. It was all controlled chaos, which is exactly the kind of chaos I enjoy.

As I passed through, the workers cleared out of the way, knowing I was the woman in control. Then I saw the man I had been looking for.

"Hello, Chef Joseph!" I shouted over the din of food being made.

From behind one of the prep stations, a tall man with a plump face and a rotund tummy that stretched out the front of his chef's garb listed his head.

"Can you tell me what's going on with the appetizers?"

He smiled warmly and motioned for me to join him. I walked around the station and was handed a round white plate with an elegantly arranged succession of finger appetizers. "I've heard they're ready for you to give it a shot."

I took a bite out of one of the appetizers and shoved it into my mouth, groaning as the tastes exploded in my mouth.

He described it as "phyllo roll pastry with figs and ricotta cheese."

With a full mouth, I murmured, "Good." "It's pretty good. What else is there to say? "

"This is a typical bruschetta with local cheese and tomatoes," says the chef.

I gave it a shot, chewing and swallowing swiftly.

"Tasty and classic."

"Just one more."

"This is my take on a kebab.Pi ta bread with steak and aioli made with black pepper."

One more bite, a succession of fast chews, then a forceful swallow.

"It's also good.

But I'm beginning to notice a pattern."

"And what is that?" he inquired, his face furrowed.

" he inquired, his face furrowed.

"Everything is heavy on the bread. Trust me, Joseph, these upper-crust folks have more allergies and food preferences than stocks in their portfolios." He looked down at the platter, then at me.

"And half of them are on some sort of tight diet. Hannah, what was the name of the game you were playing?"

"Caveman," she said with a bright smile. "If it wasn't something a caveman could eat, you don't get to have it."

With my gaze fixed on Joseph, I made a "see what I mean?" motion to her. " I said, with a puzzled expression on my face.

"I could do some meatballs...no bread, of course," he said after a lengthy pause.

"And add some kimchi on it as well."

He nodded and smiled. "I've got exactly what you're looking for."

"Oh, and can you do a re-up on this app plate?" I wondered before he had a chance to step away. I have a VIP out there who is most likely starving at this time."

"You've figured it out."

He snatched one of the sous-chefs' fingers and motioned to the plate. The food was replaced a short time afterwards. As I took the dish from the counter, I expressed my gratitude to Joseph.

As we approached the door, Hannah replied, "I have to acknowledge." "I'm not sure what to make of this auction."

"Are you joking?" I inquired, my face contorted with surprise. "They're a lot of fun – you march out a procession of studs and the crowd goes crazy." Nothing like seeing seventy-something society ladies fawning over tuxedoed beefcakes. And they make such a lot of money."

I marched through the kitchen doors, the events hall sprawled out in front of me. And what a space it turned out to be. Despite the fact that I'd handled dozens of events there over the years, the sight never failed to astound me. It was enormous, with high, vaulted ceilings that seemed to go on forever, a beautiful mural representing Manila during the Spanish colony in the center, and crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. The enormous stage up front was elevated and ornamented with columns suitable for royalty, and the floor was magnificent, polished parquet. The tall, arched windows gazed out upon the distant mountains, which jutted up into the star-studded sky.

A navy-blue banner above the stage read "Autism Awareness and Research Foundation," the name of the organization organizing the event. It was a dream come true for me to be able to organize charity events, and the fact that this one was the brainchild of my best friend and her great husband was the icing on the cake.

Hannah observed, "This area is so cool. Instead of just preparing parties, I'd like to actually attend them."

"Then start putting money away," I joked. "You're aware of the cost per dish for tonight's gala."

I spotted the woman I was seeking for while munching on appetizers.

With a little smile on my lips, I answered, "Alright. II need to meet with the lady in charge for a quick chat. Make a brief sweep of the serving staff to ensure they are in good shape. And you have my authority to chew out everyone who is gazing at their phone instead of getting dressed."

She flashed a cocky salute once more. "You got it, boss," Hannah murmured as she walked away, and I turned to face the lady in charge.

Zea Sibug sat at one of the white linen-covered tables, her sneakers propped up on the surface, the linen raised up a touch so her feet weren't on it, looking as if a sudden surprise may make her pop. An smile of relief swept across her gorgeous face as she saw me – notably the dish of food in my hand.

She reached out her hands and exclaimed, "Oh hell yes. Gimme, gimme," she said.

I laughed as I handed over the appetizer platter. She sat it on her round stomach and quickly pushed a triplet of them into her mouth.

"Chef Joseph would be furious if you didn't relish those," I said as I took a seat next to her.

"Well, Chef Joseph isn't eight months pregnant and constantly starving."

The image of the chief chef having a large pregnancy tummy made me laugh.

I nodded to her sneakers and said, "Nice shoes."

"Oh, these old things?"she inquired, lifting her hands slightly off the table.

"Don't worry, I'm not planning on wearing them tonight."

"I won't judge you if you want to wear them." Since I put these on, all I've been able to think about is comfortable shoes." I tapped my ink-black, shiny heels. "They may appear attractive, but my feet feel as if they're going to burst out of them."

As she tossed a piece of bruschetta into her mouth, Zea laughed.

"Wait until you're pregnant like me," she suggested.

"Are you aware of the adage about your feet swelling?

It's no joke: every pair of shoes, even if they're not your size, felt like the ones you just had to have.

I'm half-considering hiring Carlos to chauffeur me around for the night."

"After that, it'll be me," I said. "It's killing me, I mean my legs. They hurt like h*ll,"

The man himself then walked through the exterior entrance as if on cue. Dr. Carlos Sibug, dressed in a tailored tux with a coal-black topcoat on top, was as dashing as ever. As he focused those gorgeous blue eyes on his wife, he pulled the coat off with a smooth, fluid move, draped it over his large arm.

"Hey there, gorgeous," he said as he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. His face then took on a contemplative expression. "Hmmm...you've never tasted something so nice." Almost kebab-like."

I answered, "You can thank Chef Joseph for that. He's making sure Zea has plenty to eat."

As if on cue, the man himself walked through the external door. Dr. Carlos Sibug looked as gorgeous as ever, dressed in a fitted tux with a coal-black topcoat on top. He drew the coat off with a smooth, fluid motion, slung it over his enormous arm, and focused those magnificent blue eyes on his wife.

He leaned in and kissed her on the lips, saying, "Hey there, gorgeous." His expression changed to one of contemplation. "Hmmm...you've never had anything quite like it." It's almost kebab-like."

"You may thank Chef Joseph for that," I replied. He's making sure Zea gets enough food."

Carlos chuckled, and I couldn't help but stare at the two of them, who appeared to be the picture of ideal coupledom. Part of me worried if I'd ever have something like what they had, as pleased as I was with my life. My dating life was in such bad shape that even a doctor as experienced as Carlos would have a hard time bringing it back to life.

"This place looks wonderful," Carlos exclaimed as he stood up and looked around the event hall. "I believe we're in for a wild evening."

"To be fair, working with a location as beautiful as this takes care of a lot of the heavy lifting."

He warned, "No selling yourself short in my firm. I hired you because you're the greatest in town,"

I smiled. "I'll gladly accept the compliment."

I cast a peek towards Zea, observing the weird expression on her face, as if she had something she wanted to say but wasn't sure how it would be received.

"Babe," she said as she lowered her plate on the table. "Talking about tonight..."

As he remembered something, Carlos' eyes flared. "Emma, I'd like to speak with you about something."

"Can you tell me what that is?"

"Is it too late to add someone to the lineup for the auction?"

I grimaced, a little jokingly, a little honestly. "Well, you know how I feel about last-minute alterations..."

He said, "And I appreciate that. I'd only recommend him if I thought he'd be a good fit."

"I mean, more bachelors to auction off equals more money for charity," I replied, pondering the situation. "And if he gets the Carlos Sibug mark of approval, I'm ready to at least give him a go."

"Perfect," Carlos murmured, clasping his large hands together. "Would you mind joining me backstage to meet him?"

I said, "Not at all."

Carlos swiftly offered his arm to help Zea up as she flopped her feet on the ground and dragged herself out of her seat.

"You guys do that, and I'm going to see if Chef Joseph can top it off," Zea said, waddling toward the kitchen with a plate in hand.

As we walked backstage, Carlos congratulated me, saying, "You look great."

"Thank you, Dr. Sibug," I said with a smile.

"However, I hope this isn't your method of appeasing me by allowing your friend to participate. I prefer to think of myself as impervious to flattery."

He laughed. "No, I didn't say it because you do." And believe me when I say that once you see him, you'll understand why he doesn't need to be 'sold' like that. He's a good-looking guy with a lot of charisma. He's also really witty. And, like me, he's a doctor."

"It almost seems like you're preparing to make an offer on him."

He burst out laughing. "Perhaps I will. Just keep it a secret from Zea."

We made our way through the backstage area together. Hannah was putting the finishing touches on the serving staff in preparation for the evening.

He said, "There. That's him,"

A extremely tall man dressed in a well tailored tux stood before of me. I could see he had a great body even when he was facing the wrong way. His arms were big, his shoulders were broad, and his dark hair was slicked back. He was on the phone, and his voice was so loud that it almost rattled the floor beneath my feet. Furthermore, something about him seemed...familiar.

"Hey, Damian!"Carlos said, drawing his friend's attention to himself.

My heart jumped into my throat just hearing the name. There's no way that Damian would be here tonight.

Then he turned around and I saw him.

When he saw me, he got that cocky-as-fvck smile I'd seen so many times, as if it was all a big game to him – a big game he knew how to win. He hung up the phone, slipping it into his jacket pocket, and walked over to me.

He spoke when he was close, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Hello there, lovely."