Chapter 18 - The Gala Night
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The annual Jacobs Enterprises Winter Gala was the premier social event of the season, a glittering affair where Chicago's elite gathered to secure alliances and flaunt their wealth.
Normally, Pedro attended these events alone, leaving early after making the mandatory rounds.
Tonight was different.
Pedro waited at the bottom of the grand staircase, nervously adjusting his tuxedo cuffs. He heard the soft click of heels and looked up.
Abigail descended the stairs, looking breathtaking. She wore a deep emerald-green evening gown that hugged her curves flawlessly, her dark hair swept up into an elegant twist. She looked nothing like a nanny from Providence; she looked like a queen descending to claim her throne.
Pedro was rendered entirely speechless. He held out his hand, and she took it, her skin warm against his.
"You look incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
"I feel like an imposter," Abigail admitted with a nervous laugh.
"You belong perfectly right beside me," Pedro assured her, kissing her knuckles.
When they arrived at the gala, the room went quiet. Whispers erupted immediately. The billionaire and the "scandalous" nanny making their official public debut.
Pedro didn't care. He kept her hand tucked securely in the crook of his arm, ignoring the stares of his board members and rival CEOs. He introduced her proudly, ensuring everyone knew she was not a secret to be hidden.
When the orchestra began to play a slow waltz, Pedro led her onto the center of the dance floor. He pulled her close, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back.
"They're all staring," Abigail whispered, resting her head against his shoulder.
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"Let them stare," Pedro replied, his breath warm against her ear. "I have spent my entire life building an empire just to impress people I don't care about. Tonight, I only care about impressing you."
He spun her gently, the emerald fabric flaring around her legs. In the middle of a room filled with a thousand people, they were the only two that existed.
