Page 74 of Twisted Shot
Because yes, the gala is about raising money for the pediatric long-term care wing of Connecticut Children’s Hospital. But for Mila, it’s about more than that.
It’s about Theo, too. And finally, finally, choosing him out loud.
Mila lifts her eyes from the seating chart. Her mind skips forward ten minutes, then twenty, rehearsing AV cues, donor arrivals, lighting transitions. Everything needs to run flawlessly. No last-minute chaos. No surprises.
Months of planning. Late nights. Favors called in from every corner of her life, all culminating in one elegant, glittering night meant to help children who need far more than good intentions.
And it’s working.
Ticket sales have blown past projections. Sponsors doubled their donations. The hospital CEO called this morning to say the board was thrilled.
Mila feels…proud. Not anxious. Not scrambling. Ready.
Until the door swings open behind her and Richard’s voice cuts through the room like a knife. “Can someone explain to me why we have an ice sculpture?”
Naomi sighs without turning. “God. It speaks.”
Mila takes a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee, as if she can swallow down every irritated thought with it, breathing in once, twice, before finally turning to face him, jaw tight.
“It was donated. We only covered the delivery fee, which was less than catering spent on still water.”
He strides toward them in a tailored coat and his trademark scowl. He looks around the room as if he’s stepped into someone else’s wedding and already disapproves of the flowers.
“This looks like a Vanity Fair shoot,” he snaps. “Since when do we run charity events like fashion week?”
Mila levels her tone. “It’s a hospital gala, Richard. The Whalers are hosting. It needs to reflect the caliber of the organization.”
“The caliber of the organization?” He barks a hollow laugh. “Youmean the B-league hockey team you’ve apparently made your entire personality?”
Natalie stifles a sound of outrage beside her, but Mila doesn’t flinch. She won’t give him the satisfaction.
Richard steps closer now, his face a mask of barely disguised disgust. “This entire event looks like a party for your friends. Players at every table? Fancy lighting, designer vendors, gourmet catering? You’re not planning a fundraiser—you’re throwing yourself a ball.”
Mila lifts her chin. “Everything has been approved by the board and the client. The team is heavily involved. This is their event. We’re here to make it shine.”
But he isn’t listening. Not really.
“You know what Richard thinks?” he sneers, stepping in a little too close. “Richard thinks you’ve been using firm resources to settle personal scores and throw parties for your buddies. Jesse Mitchell’s little social media crisis earlier this year? I know you used firm resources to clean that up. You really think Jaryd won’t care when I lay all this out for him?”
His words slam into her like a physical blow.
Not because they’re true. But because they could be twisted into something that sounds true.
Jaryd Hollis is sharp as glass, and ruthless when it counts. He’s built a reputation on results, not excuses. No bullshit, no drama. And if Richard goes to him with even a thread of impropriety, Mila knows exactly how fast the fallout could come, regardless of her intentions.
She’s done nothing wrong. Everything she’s done has been for the good of the client.
But that doesn’t mean she trusts Richard not to spin it.
Her pulse ticks at her temple like a countdown clock, but she forces a slow inhale through her nose. She cannot lose it here. Not with him. She needs to shut this down.
“Richard,” she says, amazed her voice comes out smooth instead of strangled, “everything you see here is within the budget approved by both the client and the hospital board. Every dollar is accounted for.”
She takes one step closer, holding his gaze without blinking.
“I don’t have time to indulge your grudge. If you have nothing useful to add, please excuse yourself. We have a gala to run.”
Richard’s eyes narrow, flicking across the three of them, but when they land on Mila, they don’t move. What’s behind them isn’t just disdain—it’s uglier. He wants her to fail. Wants it too much.
