Chapter 4 - The First Public Kiss Was Supposed to Be Fake—Until Sebastian Forgot Everyone Was Watching
Elena spent the next morning convincing herself that attending a charity reception with Sebastian Romano was a perfectly ordinary professional obligation.
It was not a date.
It was not a declaration of love.
It was not an invitation to become entangled in the personal affairs of a man whose grandmother had already begun mentally assigning her a wedding dress.
It was, she reminded herself, an opportunity to observe the foundation's donors and ask questions about Bellanova Outreach in a setting where several of the people involved might let their guard down.
That was all.
She repeated the explanation while choosing a dress.
She repeated it while applying makeup.
She repeated it while standing in front of the mirror, adjusting a pair of earrings she had purchased with her own money.
By the time a car arrived at the Romano estate, she had almost convinced herself.
Then Sebastian stepped into the entrance hall.
He wore a black suit, a white shirt, and a dark tie. His hair was neatly arranged, and a silver watch rested against his wrist.
He looked at Elena.
Then he stopped.
She immediately became self-conscious.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You are staring."
"I've been accused of worse."
"Sebastian."
He cleared his throat.
"You look beautiful."
The compliment was delivered so simply that Elena did not know how to respond.
She had been called beautiful before. Braden had said it whenever he wanted her to forgive him, and several men she had dated had treated the word like a key they expected to unlock something.
Sebastian said it as though he were stating a fact he had noticed and felt no need to embellish.
"Thank you," she managed.
He offered his arm.
"Ready?"
"No."
"Excellent. Neither am I."
She laughed and took it.
The reception was being held at a restored museum overlooking the Chicago River. The guest list included business leaders, hospital administrators, philanthropists, and several representatives from organizations receiving foundation grants.
Elena had expected a glittering social event designed to make the Romano family look respectable.
She had not expected the place to be filled with photographs of actual people helped by the foundation's programs.
Children receiving school supplies.
Nurses working at temporary clinics.
Volunteers distributing meals during a winter storm.
The photographs made the financial discrepancies feel more personal.
Every missing payment represented something someone might have been promised but never received.
Every fabricated delivery record potentially concealed equipment that had never reached a person who needed it.
Elena glanced at Sebastian.
"Did you choose these photographs?"
"Some of them."
"Why?"
"Because they show what the money is supposed to do."
He paused.
"My father believed that a charitable foundation should be judged by the lives it improves, not the number of people who attend its galas."
Elena looked at the display again.
"Then we should make sure the money actually reaches them."
"That is the plan."
They entered the ballroom.
Conversations softened as guests noticed Sebastian.
Some greeted him with obvious respect.
Others seemed wary.
A few looked at Elena with the open curiosity reserved for someone who had unexpectedly appeared beside a powerful man.
Sebastian did not release her arm.
He did not pull her closer, either.
He simply allowed her to walk beside him.
The distinction mattered.
At the entrance to the main room, an event coordinator approached.
"Mr. Romano, everyone is waiting for your introduction."
Sebastian nodded.
Then he looked at Elena.
"Would you prefer to remain here, or would you like to come with me?"
She appreciated that he asked.
"I'll come with you."
They stepped onto the small platform overlooking the ballroom.
Sebastian took the microphone.
"Good evening. Thank you for supporting the Romano Family Foundation and the organizations whose work makes this event meaningful."
His speech was brief.
He spoke about expanding medical outreach, strengthening grant oversight, and ensuring that every contribution reached the people for whom it was intended.
He did not mention the missing funds.
But when he introduced Elena as a financial consultant assisting with the foundation's review, she heard something deliberate in his voice.
He was establishing her professional role publicly.
He was giving her a legitimate reason to be there.
Then he added, "And I would also like to introduce someone who has made my life considerably more interesting over the past several days."
Elena turned toward him.
Oh, no.
Sebastian looked at her with an expression of restrained amusement.
"Elena Foster."
Applause followed.
She leaned toward him and whispered, "You are enjoying this far too much."
"Only a little."
He stepped aside, allowing her to address the guests if she wished.
Elena had no intention of speaking publicly about their relationship, but she had spent years presenting financial findings to people who preferred not to hear them.
She knew how to keep her voice steady.
"Thank you for welcoming me. My role is to help ensure that the foundation's financial records accurately reflect the programs it supports. The purpose of this work is not to assign blame prematurely. It is to establish the facts, correct any discrepancies, and protect the resources entrusted to the foundation."
She glanced at the photographs.
"Those resources represent real commitments to real people. Every dollar deserves to be accounted for."
The applause that followed was warmer than she expected.
When she returned to Sebastian's side, he bent slightly toward her.
"Nicely done."
"You sound surprised."
"I was expecting you to explain double-entry bookkeeping to three hundred people."
"Don't tempt me."
He smiled.
And for one brief second, Elena forgot that the relationship they were presenting to the room was not entirely real.
The first person to challenge her was Victoria Duca.
She approached carrying a glass of sparkling water, dressed in a pale gold gown that looked as though it had been designed to ensure nobody could ignore her.
"Elena," she greeted her warmly. "You look lovely."
"Thank you."
Victoria looked at Sebastian.
"And you look unusually pleased with yourself."
"I have been told the evening is a success."
"Let's not become sentimental."
She turned back to Elena.
"I understand you are reviewing the Bellanova accounts."
"That's correct."
"Then perhaps we should clear up a misunderstanding before it becomes embarrassing for everyone."
Elena remained polite.
"What misunderstanding?"
"Bellanova is a legitimate organization. They completed the contracted work, and any delays were administrative."
"Do you have the delivery records?"
Victoria smiled.
"Of course."
"Then I'd like copies of the original receipts and equipment serial numbers."
"Naturally."
Victoria took a card from her purse and wrote down a telephone number.
"Contact my family's compliance office tomorrow. Someone will arrange access."
Elena accepted the card.
"Thank you."
Victoria studied her.
"You are very confident for someone who has known Sebastian less than a week."
Elena looked at her.
"Confidence in my work doesn't require a long relationship with my employer."
For a moment, Victoria's smile stiffened.
Then she laughed lightly.
"How refreshing. Perhaps you can teach Sebastian that."
She moved closer to him.
"Have you informed your grandmother about the engagement delay?"
"She seems to have managed without my help."
"She has always been very imaginative."
"Indeed."
Victoria's gaze returned to Elena.
"Enjoy the evening. These events can be overwhelming when one isn't accustomed to them."
Then she walked away.
Elena watched her disappear into the crowd.
"Was that a threat?" she asked.
Sebastian considered the question.
"A warning disguised as a compliment."
"I thought so."
"Don't worry about her."
Elena looked at him.
"That sounds like the beginning of a sentence that will end badly."
He sighed.
"Fine. Be cautious around her. She is intelligent, persuasive, and accustomed to getting her way."
"Better."
He studied her.
"You seem determined to dislike everyone in my life."
"Not everyone."
"Who have you approved?"
"Luca seems reasonable. Your grandmother is terrifying but entertaining. Your mother makes excellent coffee."
"And me?"
Elena pretended to think.
"Still under review."
Sebastian's laugh surprised a nearby couple.
The woman turned, visibly startled by the sound.
Elena grinned.
"You should do that more often."
"What?"
"Laugh."
He looked away.
"I'll add it to my schedule."
"Put it between threatening people and reviewing quarterly reports."
"That leaves a narrow window."
She was laughing when a waiter approached with a tray.
Sebastian accepted two glasses of sparkling water and handed one to her.
The gesture was simple.
Yet when the waiter walked away, Sebastian remained close enough that his shoulder brushed hers.
Elena looked around the room.
Several guests were watching them.
"Everyone thinks we're in love."
"Do you find that inconvenient?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I don't like people making decisions about my private life."
He nodded.
"Then we should give them something boring to discuss."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Such as?"
"The foundation's new reporting requirements."
Elena stared at him.
"That is the least romantic suggestion I've ever heard."
"I can do worse."
"Please don't."
His eyes warmed.
She looked away first.
Later in the evening, Elena found herself speaking with a hospital administrator named Dr. Rachel Morgan.
Rachel had worked with several foundation-funded clinics and was visibly troubled by the Bellanova invoices.
"Some equipment was delivered," Rachel explained. "But not everything listed in the records."
"Which items were missing?"
"Portable diagnostic units and refrigeration equipment for vaccine storage. We were told the shipments had been delayed, then informed that the invoices had already been paid."
"Did you sign delivery confirmations?"
"No."
"Did anyone ask you to?"
Rachel hesitated.
"A program coordinator brought me a set of documents and said that the shipment had been received at a central warehouse. I refused to sign because I hadn't inspected the equipment."
Elena took out her notebook.
"Would you be willing to provide that information to the independent audit team?"
"Absolutely."
Rachel looked around before continuing.
"I should also tell you that I raised this problem with the former controller several months before he died. He said he would look into it."
Elena's pen stopped.
"Did he tell you anything afterward?"
"He called me one evening and said the records were being corrected. He sounded relieved, but not entirely convinced."
"Did he mention anyone by name?"
Rachel thought for a moment.
"Anthony Romano. He said Anthony was supposed to provide the missing documentation."
Elena felt her stomach tighten.
She wrote down the details without drawing a conclusion.
Then she asked Rachel for permission to share her statement with the investigators.
The doctor agreed.
As they finished speaking, Elena noticed a man standing near the ballroom entrance.
He wore a dark suit and carried a small leather folder.
She had seen him once before, on the day she reviewed the foundation's records.
His name was Mark Ellison, a senior financial administrator who had worked under the late controller.
When their eyes met, Mark quickly turned away.
Elena watched him disappear into the corridor.
Something about his reaction bothered her.
She made a note of the time and location.
Then she returned to the reception.
The incident happened twenty minutes later.
Elena was speaking with two donors when a waiter approached and quietly informed her that someone had left a document in the private lounge with her name written on the envelope.
She frowned.
"Who left it?"
"The gentleman said it was important."
"Which gentleman?"
The waiter glanced toward the corridor.
"I believe he was one of the foundation employees."
Elena thanked him and walked toward the lounge.
The envelope lay on a small table beside the windows.
Her name was written across the front.
Inside was a single sheet of paper showing a list of transfers from Bellanova Outreach to several companies she did not recognize.
At the bottom, someone had written:
Your employer knows more than he is telling you.
Elena studied the page.
The information was incomplete, and there was no indication of where the numbers had come from.
She took photographs and placed the original back in the envelope.
Then she heard a door close behind her.
Mark Ellison stood near the entrance.
"Miss Foster."
She turned.
"Mark."
He glanced at the envelope.
"You shouldn't be looking at that."
"Why?"
"Because some things are more complicated than they appear."
"Then explain them."
Mark shook his head.
"You don't understand how this family operates."
"You're right. I don't understand why you would leave an anonymous financial document for me and then tell me not to look at it."
His face tightened.
"I was trying to help you."
"Then help me properly. Tell me where the information came from."
Before he could answer, another voice interrupted.
"Is there a problem?"
Sebastian stood in the doorway.
His expression was calm, but Elena recognized the tension in his shoulders.
Mark stepped backward.
"No, sir. I was just explaining something to Miss Foster."
"Then explain it to me."
Mark swallowed.
"I think there's been a misunderstanding."
Sebastian held his gaze.
"Then clarify it."
For several seconds, Mark said nothing.
Finally, he turned toward Elena.
"Don't trust anyone who tells you the accounts are clean."
He left without another word.
Elena stared after him.
Sebastian approached the table.
"What did he give you?"
She handed him the envelope.
He studied the transfers.
"These companies are not listed among the foundation's approved vendors."
"Which means someone may be routing money through unapproved entities."
"Yes."
He folded the page carefully.
"Did Mark say anything else?"
"He told me I shouldn't be looking at it."
Sebastian's expression darkened.
"That was a mistake."
Elena took the paper back.
"Don't decide that until we know where it came from."
He looked at her.
"You are remarkably committed to giving suspicious people the benefit of the doubt."
"I'm committed to evidence."
"Fair enough."
He paused.
"Would you like to leave?"
The question surprised her.
"The reception isn't over."
"I know."
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because you've been working all day, and I don't want you to feel obligated to stay just because we're pretending to be together."
Elena looked at him for a long moment.
"No. I'd like to stay."
"All right."
He offered his arm.
She accepted it.
As they returned to the ballroom, the music changed to a slower melody. Several couples moved onto the dance floor.
Sebastian glanced at Elena.
"Would you like to dance?"
She blinked.
"You dance?"
"My mother insists I learned as a child."
"That wasn't what I asked."
He extended his hand.
"Would you like to dance with me?"
Elena considered the room, the watching guests, and the growing suspicion that the evening was becoming something more personal than either of them had intended.
Then she placed her hand in his.
"One dance."
"Understood."
He led her onto the floor.
His hand settled carefully at her waist. Her fingers rested against his shoulder.
For the first few moments, Elena concentrated on the steps.
Then Sebastian moved slightly closer, and she became aware of the warmth of his hand and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
"You're very quiet," he said.
"I'm counting."
"Counting what?"
"How many people are watching us."
"That seems exhausting."
"I'm an accountant. We count everything."
He smiled.
"Then count something else."
"Such as?"
"The number of times you've smiled tonight."
She looked up at him.
"Are you keeping track?"
"Perhaps."
"That sounds dangerously close to flirting."
"It might be."
Her heart gave an inconvenient little leap.
She reminded herself that this was a performance.
A strategic arrangement.
A way to delay an engagement and expose a financial scheme.
Nothing more.
Then Sebastian looked at her with an expression that did not seem entirely rehearsed.
And Elena began to wonder whether the truth might be more complicated than the plan.
At the end of the evening, Sebastian escorted her toward the waiting car.
As they reached the entrance, his phone vibrated.
He read the message and went still.
"What is it?" Elena asked.
He handed her the screen.
The message contained a photograph of the private office where she had fallen asleep.
The ledger lay on the desk.
A red circle had been drawn around the page containing the Bellanova transfers.
Beneath the photograph were eight words.
She has found the numbers. Remove her from the investigation.
Elena felt cold.
"Who sent this?"
"The number is unregistered."
"Can it be traced?"
"Our security team will examine it."
She stared at the photograph.
Someone had been inside the office after they left.
Someone had known exactly which page she had marked.
And someone had decided that her questions were no longer an inconvenience.
They were a threat.
Elena lifted her gaze to Sebastian.
"I want the identity of whoever sent this message."
"So do I."
"And I want the financial records preserved before anyone can remove them."
"They will be."
She looked toward the car.
"Then let's go back."
Sebastian studied her.
"You're not afraid?"
"Of course I'm afraid."
She straightened.
"But I'm not leaving because someone has decided that asking questions is dangerous."
For a moment, Sebastian said nothing.
Then he opened the car door.
"All right, Miss Foster."
She climbed inside.
As he joined her, she noticed the expression on his face.
Pride.
And something else.
Something warmer.
Something that made her wonder whether the man who had once covered her with his jacket was beginning to see her as more than a useful accountant.
Elena turned toward the window.
She had promised herself not to become emotionally involved in Sebastian Romano's world.
May you like
But as the car pulled away from the museum, she realized that the real danger might not be falling in love with a dangerous man.
It might be discovering that the man she had agreed to pretend to love was becoming the only person she wanted to trust.
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