Page 66 of Money Reigns
Heat floods my face.
“Sorry.”
He chuckles, not unkindly.
“You’re doing fine.”
We glide into the crowd, his pace unhurried, his presence magnetic. People turn. Eyes follow.
Warren Beaumont, in his element.
I trail just half a step behind, trying not to look as overwhelmed as I feel.
But I already know—
I’m not walking into a gala.
I’m walking into something I may never walk out of the same.
He stops at a small cluster, two men and a woman dressed in old money and quiet menace.
The kind of people who wield their smiles like knives.
“Ah, and who’s this?” one of the men says.
Warren’s hand finds the small of my back.
Heavy.
Possessive. Calm.
Like he’s claiming me in front of them.
“Olivia Baker,” he says smoothly.
“My right hand.”
The words hit like a shot of whiskey, unexpected and warm.
He’s never called me that before.
“I thought Broderick was your right hand,” the woman asks, arching a brow.
Warren smiles, slow and lethal.
“He was. But Olivia’s much better looking, don’t you think?”
The group laughs, the indulgent kind that only comes from people who haven’t worried about money in decades.
I force a polite smile, but my insides are molten.
He goes on, tone breezy, eyes on the crowd as if he’s scanning for his next deal.
“She’s my new rising star. Brilliant. Smart as hell. Beat out Wesley to get her.”
He grabs a drink from a passing waiter and hands me one.
He sips his drink like he didn’t just hand me the sun.
