I push open the doors of the Grand Windsor Hotel, swearing under my breath. How many more of these freaking events am I going to have to attend? And why in the hell had I agreed to this in the first place?

Kids with cancer, I remind myself. Right — that puts things in perspective. This is for a good cause. The rest of it doesn’t matter.

I scan the room quickly, looking for his familiar shock of dark hair, and am both relieved and disappointed when I don’t see him.

The first person I see is actually Tomas, who rushes over and plants a kiss on my cheek.

“Bree, I am so sorry about everything that’s happened. Luke called me about the photo and I had Kelsey take it down immediately but I’m afraid the damage had already been done.”

His words spill out in a tumble and his expression is so pained that I actually smile.

“It’s not your fault, Tomas. It’s ours. It was just ... oh, you know, it just happened and ...” I throw my hands up but Tomas is nodding.

“Oh, trust me, I know. And for what it’s worth, I can’t say I blame you. It’d be hard to say no to a man like Luke.” He grins and I laugh.

“It is,” I admit. “It really, really is.”

He squeezes my hand. “You’ll survive this. What’s a little gossip, right?”

“Right.” I force another smile. “Do you ... know if he’s here yet?”

“Not yet.” He glances down at his watch. “He should be here soon though. We’ll be doing photos later and he promised to be here for that. Why don’t you get a drink? Steel your nerves — quite a few reporters here tonight so I apologize in advance if anyone harasses you about this whole thing. Come to me if they get in your face too much.”

“Thanks, Tomas.” I smile and, for the first time in what feels like days, I actually mean it.

Since Luke isn’t here yet, I let myself relax a fraction of an inch. I make my way over to the bar where I order a glass of wine — white, because knowing my luck, if I got red, I’d spill it all over my white blouse. I’d gotten so wrapped up in work that I hadn’t made it home to change and now I stuck out like a sore thumb in my purple pencil skirt and tailored white shirt.

Just another reason to down this drink and make my exit as quickly as I can.

But I barely have time to enjoy more than a sip of my wine before it happens. He happens.

Luke.

My heart leaps in my throat at the sight of him — breathtakingly handsome in a navy suit and light grey tie. His dark hair is as wild and uncontrolled as ever, but his expression is serious as he scans the room. I wonder for a moment if he’s looking for me.

I get my answer when his eyes meet mine. Our gaze locks from across the room and I grip my wine glass and remind myself to breathe. The rest of the room seems to fade away — I’m so laser focused on him and only him.

But almost as soon as our eyes meet, he looks away.

The loss of connection feels as real and abrupt as if he had pushed me off a bridge. I swallow down a hard lump in my throat as I watch him smile at an older balding man and then strike up a conversation with him. His demeanor instantly brightens — he’s smiling, laughing, clapping the man on the back.

As if he clearly doesn’t care about any of this. As if I’m nothing but a thorn in his side. A cramp in his style.

I gulp down my wine and grab my purse as I stand. I had secretly been hoping he’d come over to talk to me, but he obviously has no intention of doing that. So I’m not going to hang out at the bar all night waiting for him.

I make my way through the crowd, and spot a group of the designers we’ve been working with. Kelsey isn’t among them, thank God, so I head over to talk to them for a bit. I’m actually just starting to enjoy myself when someone taps me on the shoulder.

My heart leaps again for one stupid second, thinking it might be Luke, but instead I see Tomas standing there.

“Photos in five,” he says, squeezing my arm. “Everything going okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Out in the east lobby again?”

Tomas nods and disappears back into the crowd. I look discreetly around for Luke but don’t see him anywhere.

I slowly make my way out of the ballroom and find the group out in the lobby. It’s all the same people as last time — sponsors like Luke and me and members of the hospital’s fundraising board. I take my place at the far end of the group, fighting back a memory of that last time we’d posed for pictures and Luke had stood behind me, tormenting me the entire time.

I spot him come out of the ballroom just then. He scans the crowd. His eyes glance over me quickly, but I know that he sees me because he immediately takes his position at the very opposite end of the group. As far away from me as he can get, basically.

I let out a sigh as I try to shift my focus to the photographer. Even though he’s way at the other end of the room, all I can concentrate on is Luke. He’s joking around with some of the people standing near him. Somehow, despite the fact that I’ve been a ball of misery lately, he seems to be basking in a warm glow of some kind. His laugh reaches all the way across the room, and I can see the way the women around him lean towards him, like flowers into the sun.

He’d had the very same effect on me once upon a time. I had leaned into him in just the same way. He was so good at making you feel special that it was hard to be objective when he was lavishing attention on you. Despite all my best intentions, I’d fallen under his spell.

The photographer brings our attention front and center and Luke manages to reign in his stand-up comedy routine long enough to face the front. I want to roll my eyes. Has he always been this much of a show-off?

I smile for the camera but inside I’m impatiently counting down the minutes until I can get out of here. When I finally see the photographer unscrewing the camera lens and placing it into a big black carrier bag, I breathe out a sigh of relief. I think I’m just going to call it a night — I know I should stick around and mingle a bit longer, but after the day I’ve had, I’m exhausted.

Everyone starts filing away, but Tomas steps to the front. “We’ll just stay here another few minutes, if that’s okay with everyone. There are a few media questions and I think it’ll be easier if we address them while we have everyone here together.”

I groan, but at least I’m accompanied by half the other sponsors here. Tomas plasters on a smile. “I’m sorry — I promise it won’t be more than a few moments. Isn’t that right, folks?” He looks pointedly at a few people gathered off to the side, who I assume must be reporters.

They laugh amicably and a few nod.

Tomas nods in return. “Great. I’ll cede you the floor then.”

The first reporter, a grey-haired man I’ve seen around at a couple of these functions, steps forward.

“There are just a couple of weeks left in the lottery —are you on track to meet your fundraising goals?”

Tomas grins. “Well, we’ll have to wait for our official tallies, but yes, at this point I’m happy to say that we’re on track to meet our goals. In fact, I expect us to exceed them by at least thirty per cent.”

There’s a surprised murmur among even the sponsors, and then a smattering of applause.

Tomas nods happily. “Yes, I think we have our volunteer bloggers and designers to thank. They’ve really been instrumental in drumming up interest from the younger generation. And of course, we have Luke Whittaker and Bree Bailey to thank for supporting that part of the Lottery. It’s been a new experience for all of us, and I hope a positive one.”

I cringe inside but try to keep a smile on my face.

A blonde woman in a stylish white leather jacket steps forward from the group of reporters. “Can we hear from one of the designers, Tomas? How has this experience been for you?”

Tomas nods. “Of course.” He turns to the group. “Anyone? Care to comment?”

Jenny, the dark-haired girl who’d designed the Bailey Living room I’d been so fond of, steps forward carefully.

“I think I can speak for everyone when I say that it’s been a great experience so far,” she says, looking back at the rest of her peers for confirmation. They all nod and murmur in agreement and Jenny turns back to the reporter. “We’ve all learned so much, and working with Tomas and Bree and Luke has been a dream come true.”

“Thanks,” the blonde woman says. She types something into her phone and then looks up again. “Can I ask another one?”

Tomas nods. “Of course, Robyn.”

She scans the crowd until her eyes land squarely on … Luke. She grins.

“Luke, I’m sorry, I have to ask. What’s going on with you and Bree Bailey? Is Bree here?”

I’ve never wished so hard that a massive sinkhole would open up and swallow me whole. I think about just slinking behind the crowd and hiding, but the people behind me are shuffling and it draws Robyn’s attention over to us.

“I’m here,” I say, lifting my hand just slightly.

Her grin widens. “Bree, hi.” She turns back to Luke. “So, what’s the story?”

Yes, Luke, please tell us what the story is.

Luke shrugs. He’s got a cocky grin on his face, and I hate how handsome he looks in that moment.

“What can I say, Robyn?” He shrugs. “A regrettable lapse in judgement. A one-time thing that I’ve already assured Tomas won’t happen again. Both Bree and I are a hundred percent committed to this fundraiser, and to keeping it professional.”

My stomach clenches. Regrettable lapse in judgement? Not exactly how I’d characterize it, but whatever. Even Robyn looks disappointed by his answer.

“So, no juicy details you want to share?”

Luke laughs. It makes my heart ache to hear it. “Come on, Robyn. When have I ever been one to share juicy details?”

There’s a flirtatious note in his voice. It makes me feel nauseated. I want to look over at him, but I don’t want anyone to see me looking, so instead I stare at a point on the wall, just behind Robyn’s head. I expect tears to spring up any moment, but I feel too heartsick to even cry.

“Alright, if we’re devolving into questions about personal gossip, I think we can wrap this up,” Tomas says, clapping his hands together once. “Thanks for coming, everyone. Enjoy the rest of the evening. The bar will remain open until midnight.”

The crowd finally disperses. I head straight for the doors of the hotel, bursting out into the streets. It’s dark out now, and I breathe in the fresh night air like I’ve been holding my breath for the last ten minutes. Which, to be fair, I kinda feel like I have.

How could Luke be so casual about all this? I feel like my heart is breaking, and he’s flirting with reporters and just being his usual self.

I guess none of this mattered to him, or at least not as much as it mattered to me.

Then again, I should have expected that, shouldn’t I? I knew from the beginning that he was a playboy — those pictures I’d seen online painted a pretty clear picture of the man he was. It’s my own fault for ignoring it for so long.

And anyway, what Luke said is right. We’re both committed to being professional. I came back to Chicago to run my father’s business, not to fall for his rival. Which means my professional life needs to come first.

I can’t bear to bother Clifford again, so I let one of the hotel valets hail me a cab. I’m just climbing into the backseat when I happen to glance up towards the grand front doors of the hotel.

They swing open and Luke steps out. His eyes scan the crowd milling on the steps and then briefly, just briefly, light on my cab. Our eyes lock for a moment.

“Drive, please,” I tell the cabbie. I don’t look back.