I scanned my list one last time, even though I knew that everything had been checked and double-checked. Our fundraiser that evening would be one of the most important that Le Monde Ensemble held all year: our annual spring black-tie event. In the past few years, it had been this event that brought in most of our charitable donations for the year. This year, it was going to be even bigger, thanks to our ability to network with some of the most well-known philanthropists—and richest celebrities—in the city.

Everything had to be perfect.

“And the final guest list has been sent to the venue for the seating arrangements?” I asked Jeri, even though I knew that it had; I had already spoken with Linda at the Belmont earlier that day and confirmed that everything looked good on their end.

Sure enough, Jeri, my assistant, rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “God, it’s a wonder you don’t have more wrinkles already, with all the worrying that you do.” She shook her head. “I still don’t get it, either. It’s not like all this money is for you.”

“That’s why it’s even more important that we get this right,” I pointed out. “On a small scale, tonight is about raising the remaining five thousand dollars that we need for the Notebooks to Nepal initiative. They’re still a long way off from—”

“I know. I know,” Jeri interrupted. “I work with you every day, Sophia. I would think I know what our initiatives are by now. And I also know that tonight isn’t all about that final five thousand dollars either; it’s about the ten other initiatives that are nowhere near completion. That’s why I helped you prepare your presentation.”

I wrinkled my nose at the reminder of the talk I was going to have to give that night. It wasn’t giving the talks that I minded—I’d never had a problem getting up in front of large audiences or figuring out how to explain what we were trying to do at Le Monde Ensemble. But . . .

“I hate that I have to try to convince people to give to the charity,” I sighed. “Shouldn’t it be self-evident that these people need money more than any of these billionaires parading around in a banquet hall in New York?”

Jeri shrugged one shoulder, unconcerned. Her attitude bothered me, but I had yet to find an assistant who was as diligent as she was. And I had to admit that her charm and wiles had helped the charity become what it was; she had half the socialites in New York wrapped around her finger. But she was more concerned with the latest gossip than the state of drinking water in Guiana.

As if to prove that point, Jeri tapped one manicured nail against her chin. “How much do you think Oliver Lewin will pledge tonight?” she asked.

I rolled my eyes. “Who knows,” I said. “It could be that he doesn’t mean to spend any more than the three hundred dollars that bought seats for him and a date.”

“I wonder who he’s bringing as a date, too,” Jeri mused. “Whoever she is, the pair of them are going to be good advertising for us. It’ll be all over the tabloids.”

“Just what I’ve always wanted,” I said dryly.

“Anyway, he wouldn’t show up without planning to pledge. Humanitarianism is big at the moment. He’ll want to make a statement of how kind and giving he is. Especially since he needs to make his playboy image look a little better.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you believe how little we’ve developed as a society? Here we still are, with celebrities basically buying their way into our good graces despite all of their sins. I can’t believe it. Do you actually believe that trash about them being good people just because they threw a huge lump of money at a charity like ours? They don’t even care where the money is going.”

I shook my head. “I would almost bet you that tonight, at the reception, Oliver is going to be just like all the rest of the assholes that we’ve entertained at the banquet over the years. He’s not even going to pay the slightest bit of attention. He’ll just be there to chat with all the available, rich women, even though he’s bringing a date, and his date won’t mind because, hey, she got to have her picture taken with Oliver Lewin at some fancy black tie event for some cause that she has never heard of since it has nothing to do with breast enhancement or getting rid of celluloid.”

By now, Jeri was staring at me, her mouth slightly agape. “Jeez, Sophia, take a deep breath!” she said. She shook her head as well, looking amused. “Look, I know you think you’re better than all of them and that tonight is going to be a total drag for you, but could you at least try to have a little fun? It’s a party, after all.” Her eyes shone. “I can’t wait to get my hands on some of that champagne. You always pick the best caterers!”

I stared at her as though she had two heads, wondering for a second if she was serious. But of course she was—this is Jeri we’re talking about. She and I were cut from two very different pieces of cloth.

“I’m kidding!” Jeri said, laughing. “You know the thing I really can’t wait to get my hands on is Oliver Lewin.”

“Jeri!” I said, shocked that she would even say that.

Jeri raised both hands. “I know. I know, don’t do anything to embarrass the company,” she said. “I’m not exactly going to pounce right in the middle of the banquet hall, of course. I’ll just make sure that he knows I’m interested, and then . . .” She trailed off, waggling her eyebrows at me. “I was the one to select the venue, you know. I know where all the private nooks and crannies are.”

I groaned. It wasn’t just the company’s reputation at stake.

“Jeri, don’t you have a boyfriend? And isn’t Oliver a bit old for you? He’d be what, thirty-something . . .” I asked.

Jeri gave another of her unconcerned one-shoulder shrugs. “Thirty-one actually. I wouldn’t mind a man with a little experience anyway. And as far as Jackson is concerned, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” she said confidently. “Besides, don’t most couples have a thing where, like, it’s okay if the other person cheats with a specific famous person? Oliver Lewin is my hall pass.”

“Does Jackson know that Oliver Lewin is your hall pass?” I asked. “Because I don’t think it counts otherwise.”

Jeri snorted. “Like you would know anything about a relationship!” she said. “How are things looking for you on the love front? Met anyone since . . . what was his name? You know, I can’t even remember because that’s how long it’s been since you even went on a date.”

I tried not to let her nettle me. I knew that she just didn’t understand that there might be something more to life than dating. Or fucking, really—I knew she wasn’t in it for the dinners and dates. I rolled my eyes just thinking about it.

“You know why I don’t date,” I told her. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for love when there’s money to be raised and lives to be improved. Do you know that in the last month alone, we were able to help nearly two thousand people who had been affected by Hurricane Lucinda? That’s huge.”

“I know,” Jeri sighed. She pushed herself up to her feet. “Am I free to go home and get ready for this thing, or do you want to go through your checklist again to make sure that things are really going to be perfect tonight?”

I rolled my eyes. “Go home,” I told her, even though there were a couple more calls that I wanted to make. Just to . . . confirm that everything was going along as scheduled—that the caterers had shown up at the venue already and were setting up; that the final decorations were in place; that the band hadn’t suffered some unspeakable last-minute tragedy rendering them unable to perform.

You know, the usual.

I knew that people in the business talked about me, both those employed at Le Monde Ensemble and some of the other charities. They said I was crazy and that I micromanaged everything. That I had no life outside of my work, and that I drove people to death (well, to tears anyway). But I got results. And, the thing was, most of the people who talked about me had never experienced any of the sort of misfortune that I was working so hard to relieve.

To be fair, I had also come from a pretty privileged background. But I had lived through the devastating wildfires that hit southern California nearly fifteen years ago, when I’d been a young teen. My parents had been killed. We’d lost everything, and the only reason I had been safe was because some friends and I had been on a weekend school trip to Sacramento.

It still haunted me that I could have been there as well.

Not that things had been easy for me after the wildfires. My family had always had money, thanks to the family vineyards, but the vineyards were ruined and the house reduced to rubble. I’d been able to use the family money to help me through my last years of school and on into adulthood. But I knew plenty of other kids who weren’t as lucky—they’d really lost everything when the wildfires ripped through our hometown. For most people, it was inconceivable to think of their life changing completely in one day or even one instant.

That was why I had to keep giving these talks, keep trying to convince people to donate their money. No one understood that one day, they could be the ones on the receiving end of that relief money.

I shook my head and made a few last calls. Everything sounded like it was working out perfectly. Getting big events like this to run smoothly and on time was something that I had initially struggled with; I didn’t have a background in event planning, but I’d never wanted to leave all the planning to someone else. Now, I had the hang of it. I might have seemed overbearing to some, but I just expected everything to be done right. There was nothing wrong with that.

I smiled to myself and stood up, packing my briefcase and getting ready to go home for the night. As I cleared my desk, I glanced one last time at Oliver’s photo in our pamphlet of distinguished attendees. I shook my head. “Tu n’es rien qu’un petit branleur . . .”

I was glad that Oliver Lewin would be in attendance tonight. Being able to list him amongst our distinguished guests of the evening had—I was sure—been the reason that tickets for the event had sold out. But I hoped he wouldn’t distract from the real purpose of the event. If this turned into an episode of some reality TV drama, with every eligible girl trying to get his hand . . .

I looked at my watch and grimaced. Time for me to head home and get ready. No matter how much I was dreading the silly talk and the persuasion tactics, I knew to make sure I looked the part.