Page 4 of Serena
“Todo Bien?” Yuri asks.
“Si, un poco nerviosa,” I admit.
Yuri speaks a little bit of Spanish. She learned it from her Puerto Rican mother, but she doesn’t speak it often. On the few occasions that she does, it’s usually to calm me down. There is something about speaking the language that settles me. It mayhave to do with my grandmother, whom I was close with. It brings back the feeling of comfort and safety.
“What do you have to be nervous about?”
“I don’t know.” Because honestly, I don’t know. I pretend it’s excitement. It is my first gala, after all. But I know better. She takes my hand and holds it, taking deep breaths with me.
By the time we arrive, the gala is in full swing. The company spared no expense. The servers are walking around with trays of canapés and flutes of champagne. Tables are placed around the dance floor for spectators. The music is instrumental, which allows the attendees to network. I’m sure that will change later. I don’t plan on drinking at these events, but just to keep up appearances, I grab a glass of champagne for Yuri and me when the waiter walks by and ask for a bottle of water. From across the dance floor, I catch a glimpse of red hair. Claudia, my assistant, sees me and makes her way over. “Hi Serena! You look amazing!” She hugs me. Since the first day I met Claudia, I knew she was a hugger. “Quite the party, huh?” I nod in agreement.
“Claudia, this is my best friend Yuri. Yuri, this is my amazing assistant.” Claudia smiles.
“It seems that the marketing department that was hired is all here as well. There are three of them, but I haven’t been able to meet them. You won’t be working with them, but they may want to do a photo session for the social media and final budget stuff,” she goes on to say.
I have to remind her that she isn’t working, so she needs to enjoy herself. She smiles and returns to her socializing. Yuri finishes with her champagne and moves on to mine. She is very comfortable at events like this. She grew up attending them largely due to her father. Now that she lives a couple of states away from him, her brother sometimes extends an invitation, but since she began her relationship with Xander, herattendance at events is minimal. So I was surprised when she accepted my invitation to be my plus one.
I turn to her. “Yuri, isn’t Elias friends with the Kayde brothers?” I’m curious because I know nothing about my new boss. Like anyone with a curious mind, I googled him, but all I found was general information about his businesses. I did see a lot of articles about him and women. It seems he’s the non-committal type.
“I tried to look him up but didn’t find much. He could be a total asshole for all I know.”
She laughs. “He is. I mean, Ian Kayde is an asshole—a hot and rich asshole. E and Ian are really good friends. E should be coming, since this is part of social networking, and all that jazz, so you should ask him.”
To say the Lobo siblings have a complicated relationship is an understatement. I’m close to Elias too. After a while, he became the brother I never had. He is protective of Yuri and me, but unlike Yuri, I don’t have a trust fund that attracts suitors.
“How are you two doing?”
“As best as we can be. Considering he hates my fiancé.”
It’s no secret that Elias isn’t a fan of Xander. Truth be told, I’m not either, but I stand by my friend.
I’m scanning the room, letting my eyes drift, people watching, zoning out—when Yuri goes still. Her glass stops midair. Her face pales. “What is it?” I ask, already knowing I won't like the answer. I follow her gaze.
And there he is. My past, dressed in gray and walking straight toward me. My stomach caves. My hands tremble. Yuri grabs my left hand. “Respira,” she whispers.
Then—
“Hello, Serena.”
This is the part I hate most when attending these events—the mingling. I am not a mingling type of person; straight to the point is more my style. Attempting to make small talk is definitely one of the top five things I hate, make it three. This is more suited for Gabriel, who just sent me a text telling me that he isn’t coming. He gave some fucking excuse about work coming up. I know what he does all day; I don’t buy it. I make a note to hound him about flaking at the last minute. I return to the conversation being directed at me. Edmund Steward is congratulating me on the successful acquisitions, but I tune him out. It's nothing but formalities. My father should be here basking in the glory of all this praise. He not only acquired Penger but also a smaller telecommunications company.
I excuse myself and head to the bar to refill my whisky. I could just ask the waiter to bring me another, but I need to leave this conversation. The bartender is busy helping another customer, so I wait for my turn. I may own the company, beworth billions, and be paying for this event, but I’m not above having manners. Although I’m not a patient man, the wait provides me with an excuse not to walk around and force myself to repeat the same answers to the same questions.
Standing here looking around the room, I recognize most of the guests. Some are here as a courtesy, and selected press are here as well, being given access to tonight's event. There are employees as well as the marketing firm that was recently hired for the transition. Everything needs to be impeccable. The team hired will be taking care of all of the press and branding.
I’m taking in the room, looking around, and my breath catches as my eyes land on her. There she is. Dark-blue dress. Soft skin. Those lips. I freeze. I shouldn’t. I’ve trained myself not to. But she’s here. She doesn’t know I exist. Not yet. There is something about her; the way she presents herself, so in control, she could command this entire place if she wanted to. She’s holding a glass of champagne in between her fingers, not taking a sip. She turns to the person on her left, whom I recognize as Yuri Lobo. My father and hers are good friends. There would be the occasional summer vacation together. I outgrew them and spent the summers with my cousin, but I know my siblings and she used to be close.
Then her face changes. A flicker. A crack. Someone's approaching. Her posture shifts like she’s bracing for impact. And then, maybe she looks right at me. Maybe not. The bartender hands me the drink. When I look back, she’s gone.
Ican’t breathe; I need air.Respira. My hands are sweating, and my heart feels like it’s going to explode from how hard it’s beating. It’s overwhelming. My panic’s mixed with anger, shock, and more anger. It’s swallowing me whole; I can’t control my breathing. I’m trying to catch my breath but can’t, so I slowly start to count: uno, dos, tres, cuatro, until I get to ten. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I can’t lose my shit, not here. Not in front of everyone. A couple of minutes ago, I was talking to Yuri, and now I'm losing my shit on the balcony at a work party.
When I saw him, I thought I was imagining the person in front of me, but why would I imagine him here, out of all places? I hardly recognized him; it wasn't until Yuri looked and gasped that I realized it was real. After all this time, after years of not a single word, after everything that happened. He’s just here, appearing out of thin air. What is he doing here? Why here? Why now?
I didn’t stick around. I needed to get out of there. In shock, I looked around for the nearest exit. Walking through the halls, I stumbled on double doors that led to the balcony. I felt like I was being suffocated, but I managed to open the doors, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. I wonder if I screamed, would anyone hear me? The music's loud enough. I wish I could throw something—anything.
I take a couple of breaths and close my eyes, trying to let the anger subside, but it won’t. It’s there; it's always there. I have to pull myself together. This is not the time nor the place to do it.“Calmate, Serena,” I repeat again, hoping it will finally sink in, but I can’t calm down. I stare at the sky and start counting stars, trying to distract myself. Instead, I just find myself thinking about that night. I lift my hand and place it on the left side of my neck. With my hair draped to the side, the scar is covered. It’s right behind my ear and about two inches down toward my neckline—I feel it. I always feel it, the phantom pain. Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. Not here, not today, not for him, not for anyone else. I made that promise a long time ago.
There’s a prickle at the back of my neck. I can't help but feel like someone is watching me. I look around but don't see anyone. Now I’m being paranoid; it wouldn’t be the first time. No one is on the balcony but me, but I can’t shake the feeling.
