Then the microphone squeals, cutting through the music.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our host for the evening, Mr. Worth Miller.”
The crowd applauds, couples slowing their steps. Worth guides his date off the floor, but before he heads for the stage, his gaze lingers on me for a moment longer.
15
WORTH
Iadjust my cuffs and stride towards the stage. My gaze should be on the cameras flashing, on the donors waiting to be impressed. Instead, it catches on a swirl of green fabric in the crowd.
Jesus Christ—that dress. Emerald silk that clings to her in all the ways I shouldn’t notice, a neckline that dares the eye lower, hair loose and tumbling over her shoulders, like it was made to be tangled in my fists. Mya doesn’t look like my employee. She looks like temptation wrapped in satin.
Sliding up beside her earlier at the bar nearly undid me. The faint scent of her perfume, the brush of her arm on mine… Fuck.
And watching her laugh with Griffin like she’s known him forever… It looked comfortable. Easy. The opposite of how she is around me. I hated how much it gnawed at me, even knowing Griffin’s not interested in anyone like that.
And when Ethan-fucking-Chan put his hands on her, guiding her across the dance floor? I nearly saw red.
This is just an attraction. Maybe all I need is to get her out of my system and I’ll stop feeling like I’m about to combust every time she walks into a room. But I refuse to cross that line andbreak my word to myself, to Griffin, to Henson, to Andrée. Not happening.
I take the podium, grip it tight until the wood bites into my palms.
“Thank you for joining us tonight. This marks the thirteenth year W.H.M. has had the privilege of hosting the gala for the Seattle Women’s Network. Thirteen years of supporting a cause that uplifts, empowers, and advocates for women in our city.”
Applause ripples, flashes go off. I keep talking. “Your generosity is what made this possible. Not just through donations, but through the friendships, connections, and partnerships formed here. We thrive when we work together. When we lift one another up.”
My gaze slides back to Mya, her lips parted slightly like she’s hanging on every word.
“And as important as friendship is,” I continue, shifting my tone, “it’s equally important to remember boundaries. Professional boundaries.”
I watch her stiffen. Good. Let the message sink in. For both of us.
“At W.H.M., we value teamwork, respect, and collaboration. Those things can’t thrive without professionalism. We must remember that no matter how tempting it may be, stepping outside those boundaries risks fueling the very kind of harassment this foundation is committed to ending.”
The crowd nods, completely oblivious. To them, it’s corporate policy. To Mya, it’s a warning.
And to me? It’s the closest I can get to saying what I really want.
I end my speech and step down from the stage, striding towards the redhead waiting for me off to the side.
I usually bring dates to these events as a buffer. But tonight, I almost didn’t.
After I told Ryan I was seeing someone off the record, I spent days brainstorming who could carry the part. Sophia made sense on paper: we’ve been seen together, we’ve dated casually, and she’sveryeager to be the one to take Worth Miller off the market. She’d say yes even if it was fake.
But every time I tried to lock that plan, Mya muscled to the front of my mind and wouldn’t move. So I brought the buffer anyway, hoping to drown out thoughts of the doe-eyed, tan-skinned beauty who’s been plaguing my thoughts for weeks.
I haven’t even kissed Mya and I crave her like a starving man craves his next meal. It’s visceral. The defiance in her eyes when she calls meMr. Miller, the sway of her hips in that emerald dress—it’s enough to drive me wild.
I don’t even recognize myself like this.
I’ve built an empire by staying in control. But when it comes to Mya, it’s a thread unraveling in my hands.
Sophia hooks her arm through mine. “Shall we get seated, honey?”
I cringe. I’m not her damnhoney.
We make our way to the dining area. As expected, I’m at the head table, Sophia glued to my side, flanked by the rest of the executives and higher management. The chatter is polite, full of forced laughter and networking bullshit, and I let my eyes scan the room.