“You and what army?”
“I know people.” She took off her sunglasses, revealing bloodshot but determined eyes. “I’ve got dangerous connections.”
“Your ‘dangerous connections’ are just bartenders who give you free shots when you wear low-cut tops.”
“Christian. About you deserving more.” She shrugged. “He’s an idiot, but a decent idiot. He probably thought it would be wrong to take advantage of the moment.”
“It wouldn’t be taking advantage if I was practically begging for it.”
“That’s exactly why, you dummy.” Annabelle nudged me lightly. “He likes you too much to reduce everything to a goodbye hookup.”
I shook my head, refusing to believe it.
“If he liked me that much, he would’ve stayed.”
Annabelle opened her mouth to respond but seemed to change her mind. Instead, she stood up with an exaggerated sigh.
“You know what you need? Coffee. Strong. And maybe a plan for the future that doesn’t involve stupid men-even the rich and handsome ones.”
As she stumbled toward the kitchen, I thought about her words. A plan for the future. I looked around the living room, at the house I grew up in, at the life I’d always known. Suddenly, it all felt small, insufficient.
“I’m going to sell everything,” I declared out loud.
“What?” Annabelle shouted from the kitchen.
“The clothes. The shoes. Everything Christian gave me.”
My sister appeared in the doorway, holding a mug.
“Why? Some of those pieces are worth more than my liver.”
“Not that your liver looks worth much at the moment, but… exactly!” I stood, feeling a strange determination rising inside me. “I can use the money to… I don’t know. Take a course. Maybe finally try something in my field.”
Annabelle studied me for a long moment, then slowly smiled.
“Whether you actually like Christian or not, that trip did something good for you.”
[Three months later]
Three months can change a lot.
I adjusted the tie of one of the promoters who’d be handing out samples of Sunvale Winery’s new Merlot, making sure the logo was perfectly aligned.
“Remember to mention the cherry notes and the time in the barrel when guests ask,” I instructed, moving on to the next promoter in line.
The hotel lobby where the tasting would take place was almost ready. The tables had been positioned strategically to create a natural flow, the crystal glasses lined up with precision, the information displays elegant without being over the top. I’d spent the last two weeks planning every detail of this event. It wasn’t as big as Kensington’s, but it was mine. Entirely mine.
“Zoey, these floral arrangements are in the wrong place!” shouted Lisa, my twenty-two-year-old assistant fresh out of college. “The plan said they should be near the fountain, not the entrance!”
I took a deep breath and smiled. Three months ago, I’d been a bridal shop salesgirl with an unused degree in Public Relations. Now I was the event coordinator at Sunvale Winery, with my own assistant who constantly needed direction.
“We’ll keep them at the entrance,” I decided. “The color contrasts better with the main panel.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Edward Mendez, my boss and Sunvale’s Marketing Director. I answered while walking toward a quieter corner.
“Zoey, how are we doing?” His voice was as cheerful as always.
“Everything’s on schedule. The catering team just arrived, and the promoters are being briefed. We’ll be ready an hour ahead of time.”
“Excellent!” I could practically see his smile through the line. “I knew I made the right choice when I hired you.
That phrase always gave me a strange feeling. Edward had hired me just two weeks after I’d started a refresher course in PR, with an offer that had seemed too good to be true. Above-average pay for a beginner, attractive benefits, and the promise of fast growth.
“I recognize talent when I see it,” he’d said in the interview. “And I remember perfectly how you handled those influencers at the Kensington event.”
I’d been too flattered to question how a smaller winery like Sunvale could afford to offer such good conditions to someone with no formál experience in the field.
“Any last-minute confirmations?” I asked, checking my clipboard.
“Yes, about that…” Edward paused. “I just got confirmation from the Association of Wineries. They’re sending representatives from all the biggest producers in the country.”
My stomach turned.
“All of them?”
“Yes, including Kensington.” His voice took on a tone of forced casualness. “Looks like they’ll be sending one of their directors. Or maybe even the CEO.”
Christian. The name echoed in my mind, even though Edward hadn’t spoken it. For three months, I had worked hard not to think about him. Not to remember that last look on his face as he drove away in the Porsche. Not to imagine what would have happened if he’d stepped inside that morning.
“Zoey? You still there?”
“Yes,” I answered quickly. “No problem. We’ll treat all the representatives with the same hospitality.”
“Of course, of course.” He hesitated. “But… considering your history with the Kensingtons, I thought maybe you could give them a bit more… personalized attention? It would be a great opportunity to strengthen ties.”
My discomfort grew, but I kept my voice professional.
“I’ll do whatever’s best for Sunvale, Edward.”
“Excellent!” he exclaimed again. “Oh, I almost forgot the main reason I called. I have an important announcement for you.”
“I’m listening.”
“The board approved it. You’re going to lead next month’s intersector event!”
I nearly dropped the phone. The intersector event was the biggest annual gathering in Verdania’s wine industry. Normally, only senior executives with years of experience were entrusted with that responsibility.
“Edward, I… I’ve only been here two months.”
“And you’ve already proven your worth dozens of times.” His voice was steady. “I trust you with this, Zoey. It’s a huge opportunity for Sunvale… and for you.”
After hanging up, I allowed myself a moment of silent celebration. It was enormous recognition. Validation for all the late nights studying, for every cent from the clothes I’d sold to pay for the intensive course, for every extra hour I’d worked since I’d been hired.
When I returned to the small apartment I’d rented after moving out of my parents’ house, I was exhausted but satisfied. The place was modest-a studio with a tiny kitchen and a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in -but it was mine. Paid for with my salary, decorated to my taste.
I kicked off my shoes, leaving them in the middle of the room, and threw myself onto the bed. My eyes automatically landed on the small velvet box on the nightstand.
The ring.
Out of all the expensive things Christian had given me, it was the only one I couldn’t part with. I had tried to sell it twice. The first time, I turned back on the way to the jeweler. The second, I actually placed it on the counter, but when the appraiser mentioned he’d need to remove the engraving inside to resell it, something inside me cracked.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.