“Perfect.”
Even though they shared a child already, they kept their business private. She never wanted to be known as Vic’s ‘baby momma’. She absolutely abhorred that term. She wanted her work to speak for itself. The last thing she wanted was people assuming that Vic influenced potential clients on her behalf. She’d worked hard her entire career, and her designs should speak for themselves. Vic respected her wishes and agreed that only those who needed to know their true relationship would be told. Other than a few friends and their family, they kept business separate from home life.
“I guess I should allow you to get back to work,” she said. “Are there any other questions you have, Mr. Maxwell?”
The others had rejoined her and Vic. He shook his head as he took in the construction around them.
“Ms. Winston, I can’t wait to see the final reveal. Your vision is going to be magnificent.”
Vic reminded himself, twice—maybe three times—that he did not need to be here looking like a man out to prove anything. Yet here he stood, in the gilded entrance of the Lakeshore Grand Ballroom, wearing a tuxedo that cost more than a person’s first car. He slid his hands into his pockets. The muscle in his jaw twitched as he took in the room.
It was the fundraiser for his new property. The name had just been revealed.
The ArtisanAvenue.
He was here because Maxwell & Sons was the largest development group in Ohio and because showing his face at events such as this mattered. He was not here to see Tachina. At least, that was the lie he’d been telling himself.
The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and amber light. Guests in tuxedos and beautiful gowns moved like a swarm of wealth and connections. Renderings of the Artisan Avenue were displayed on easels around the room, showcasing its sleek lines, glass expansions, and lakeside integration.
Tachina’s vision.
Her brilliance.
Even though he’d seen them all before, tonight they hit harder.
“Victor.” His mother swept in, elegant in her champagne gown. She air-kissed his cheeks and stepped back to give him the once-over. “Darling. You look stunning.” Nancy Maxwell brushed off an imaginary piece of lint from his jacket. Her dark-brown hair with hints of gray streaks was pulled back in an intricate bun with a few wisps of hair flowing down to frame her face. “Everyone is talking about the Artisan Avenue. This was a wonderful investment. Your father is thrilled.”
“Glad to hear it.” He smiled politely. His gaze flicked across the room where his father was engrossed in a conversation with the mayor.
“I had such a wonderful time with you and Kian onWednesday. You must bring him around more, Victor,” she huffed.
Vic had taken Kian over to their home as promised. It was an awkward dinner as always. Private chefs cooking extravagant meals. His parents never understood that young children didn’t need all of that. Chicken nuggets or spaghetti would have sufficed for Kian. Not dishes that he couldn’t even pronounce.
“He’s grown so much. And he’s so smart. Which is why we need to see about enrolling him in Taylor Academy,” his mother went on. “They only accept so many students each year. I have a few contacts that I can reach out to?—”
“Mom, he’s fine,” Vic cut her off. In her own way, Vic knew his mother cared for her grandson and wanted the best for him, the same as she and his father had provided for Vic and Logan. But high-priced private schools didn’t mean good education or a right fit for the kid.
“He’s already been accepted?” Her eyes brightened. “Victor, that is wonderful?—”
“No, I mean he’s fine where he is. Tachina and I researched schools, and the one he is currently attending is excellent, and he loves his teachers there.”
Her face fell. Vic sighed and held back rolling his eyes. If he did, then he’d received a lecture from his mother about etiquette in public.
“But, darling. Taylor Academy is the best.” She straightened to her full height, but something, or someone, caughther attention. “There is Senator Sherman. I need to speak with him. We will discuss this later, Victor.”
Another air kiss and she was gone.
Vic blew out a deep breath and rotated his shoulders. The tension in them was unbearable. He needed a good massage to help work out the kinks.
He took a few steps into the room, deciding he needed to circulate and get it over. Someone called his name, and he paused. This time, he did roll his eyes.
“Vic,” a soft voice repeated.
Sydney.
She stood there, posed like she was awaiting a photographer to take her picture. She was encased in a long white gown, blonde hair up in a perfect twist, diamonds catching every angle of the room’s light. She was here doing what she did best—searching for an opportunity amongst the wealthy for her philanthropic advancements.
“Sydney.” His tone was clipped, and he hoped she got the message that he didn’t want any shit tonight.