GALATEA: Conflict of Interest

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POV: Olivia

Blair: Dress slutty. Your dad will hate it and some silver fox lawyer will love it. Win-win.

Opening a message from Blair was always unpredictable.

She’s been one of my best friends since law school—and to say the least—the most entertaining person I know.

I shook my head, typing out a message back to her.

Olivia: My dad would have a literal heart attack.

Blair: If one more person tells me age gap is problematic I’m going to scream. It’s called TASTE. Now go find a daddy at your daddy’s party.

Olivia: I think I’m looking for a man a little less geriartic and more….capable. You know, of actually making me orgasm.

Blair: Honey, if you want to orgasm then you definitely need to find yourself a zaddy. Find yourself a vintage model. Best sex of your life.

My eyes scanned across the room, taking in this year’s attendees— full of lawyers, obviously lots of them. Every person who worked at my father’s firm was expected to attend the Gala, even if you were in HR or accounting, it was mandatory. All wearing perfectly tailored, expensive suits and long, elegant ball gowns.

Finally, my eyes landed on a bar in the corner of the room, and I made a break for it. I was in desperate need of some liquid courage to make me through tonight.

The bar countertop was perfectly polished white marble, nothing less than expected for a prestigious gala at the Four Seasons hotel, and I immediately ordered a gin and tonic with extra lime. The bartender placed the drink in front of me with quick precision and the drink didn’t last more than a second untouched before I took a generous gulp.

I even pressed my eyes closed to revel in it. That’s how much I needed it.

Then I heard it. A voice that sounded like velvet—rough, velvet but velvet nonetheless.

“That drink must be phenomenal,” I heard a deep voice murmur beside me.

I groaned internally.

When I opened my eyes I was certain I would see some wannabe 25-year-old finance bro, who probably happened to be one of my new co-workers, another junior associate next to me, ogling my ass and hoping to get me drunk.

But I was sorely mistaken.

The man standing in front of me was the furthest thing from a 25-year-old or a finance bro, even though I can’t say for certain he hadn’t stared at my ass, right now he was staring in my eyes, his gaze unwavering, and his jawline—fucking perfect.

Over 6 feet tall and by a good amount, god. Dark brown hair, perfectly slicked back with a hint of gray. Stubble along his jawline, which didn’t hide the sharpness or definition at all. Eyes so green I felt like I was in an endless field. His suit practically tapered around his body, too.

He cleared his throat, obviously noticing that I was ogling him and hadn’t even blinked once.

“It’s pretty good,” I mentioned, taking another sip and tearing my gaze away from his.

God, why was I acting like some love struck teenage girl? Like I hadn’t seen a man that beautiful before? Well, maybe one not that beautiful, but still, I digress.

“Let me guess, you’re finding a way to make conversation at this event enjoyable and hoping a gin and tonic might do the trick?” His smirk was dangerous, and those eyes, never wavering, completely still were kryptonite too.

I nodded meekily, still entranced with watching him, watch me back.

“It won’t work, I’ve tried. There’s not enough alcohol in the world to withstand some of these—-lawyers,” he let out a soft laugh.

“Wow, you’re cynical,” I muttered, cursing myself as I did.

Shit, that’s sure of a way to scare off the hot guy.

But instead he surprised me by smiling. “Insightful.” Then he added, “For a lawyer.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “For a lawyer? How do you know I’m a lawyer?”

“Would it be better if I thought you were the date of one?”

I nearly scoffed. But he had a point. “I just started,” I finally said.

He nodded. “Which firm?”

“At Carson, Page, Gerard, Vann and associates.”

His smirk faltered for a second as he studied me once more.

“Is that where you work?” I blurted out.

But before he could respond.

My father, of course, appeared at my side—watching, scrutinizing who knows what else.

I forced a smile.

“Alaric, I see you’re catching up with my daughter.”

My mouth dropped open, literally. Alaric Page. Like one of my father’s partners in the business for the last few decades. I hadn’t seen him since I was a kid…like since I was 10 years old, and I guess I forgot how truly beautiful he really was…because my god, if you saw him now, your mouth would drop open, too.

Alaric looked just as confused as I did, a moment of sudden realization flooded over his features—tense jaw, wide eyes, a flicker of acknowledgement mixed with something else…attraction? A fleeting moment of shock, all quickly replaced with his composed demeanor.

“Olivia,” he replied.

“Yes.”

And my father still lingered at my side, reminding me what that meant…Alaric, his friend, his business partner, a man almost twice my age—-off limits, completely off limits.

Though, I couldn’t help but look over at him as if he wasn’t.

“Well, I must be going,” my father replied, waving at a group of men wearing expensive suits.

Finally, I muttered internally.

Now, I guess it’s time for my…exit?

The word didn’t sound right, it didn’t even feel right. I knew I shouldn’t linger here a moment longer, but I wanted to.

As I turned, I heard it. His voice.

“Olivia.”

I turned, briefly and connected with his eyes. It nearly stopped my breathing.

Then he continued on, as if it was casual. “Well, it’s been some time since I last saw you. I was wondering what you decided on for a career.”

My jaw tensed. “It’s like him not to mention me, he probably doesn’t even have a photo of me in his office.”

In the orbit that is my father’s world, his firm is at the top, in fact it’s number one. It’s the most important thing in his life, ranked number one, above all—above leisure—about pleasure—above family—and especially above me, his only child.

Alaric didn’t respond, instead he just watched me, his gaze softening.

I shook my head, trying to convince myself that it didn’t matter, but it stung still. “I need another drink.”

Alaric motioned for the bartender for another round, effortlessly comforting me with a single movement. We drank in silence for a moment, as I peaked at him through the corner of my eyes.

Alaric Page. He had to be at least 45 years old, a few years younger than my father but he looked as if he could pass for a man in his thirties. Perfect jawline, muscular, lean build, yes, he had wrinkles but they weren’t defined. He was ungodly handsome, like it should be illegal for a man to be that handsome, especially at his age, as well as logical, successful and smooth.

“Would you honor me with a dance?”

My chest hollowed.

Did he just ask me to dance with him?

I blinked twice, thinking I imagined it.

“I’m still quick on my feet for an old man,” he teased, but there was no humor in his face, only his voice.

“You’re not old,” I blurted out quickly. My cheeks flushed red.

His gaze wavered for only a moment, but it was a moment enough.

His eyes traced my body as if he was memorizing every inch of me.

And I knew that things would become a lot more complicated if I accepted the dance.

But I did anyway.