Fifth Avenue Devil

Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

Annalise

M eet me at the Met at 7. Wear this dress.

It's a simple text message, but it makes my heart beat a little faster. I do love the Metropolitan Museum of Art an embarrassing amount. He knows that. What could Nate have planned that involves the museum after hours?

It reminds me of our first date. But it’s not, as I keep reminding myself. So why am I so damned nervous?

Now, standing outside the grand entrance of the Met, I’m nervous. Dressed elegantly in a curve-hugging black gown that Nate sent for me to wear, I draw in a deep breath. There's only one way to find out what Nate has planned.

And that is to follow his cryptic instructions.

Pushing past the columns, I brace myself. The doors open from the inside; there is an usher standing there who welcomes me. As I step into the museum, I'm engulfed in an opulent ballet-themed wonderland.

The Met’s grand hall has been transformed into a dazzling venue fit for royalty. Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light across the white and gold accents that are draped on the walls. Delicate floral arrangements topped with tiny glass ballet dancers are placed every twenty feet. Elegant ballet-inspired statues and paintings dot the length of the hall.

The atmosphere is absolutely electric. The place is packed, more full than I’ve ever seen the spacious lobby be. A palpable current of anticipation buzzes through the air. Tiny white note cards hang at intervals from the ceiling on long white strings. I reach up to touch one of the cards, but I’m interrupted by an inquiring voice.

"Miss? Would you like a Grand Jeté Gin Fizz?" A passing waiter extends a tray toward me, offering a frothy white cocktail garnished with a delicate pirouetting ballerina made of sugar.

I take the glass, my eyes widening. “Thank you.”

I have a sip, savoring the silky, citrusy-sweet flavor. The drink is surprisingly effervescent. I take another sip as I touch the white card hanging near me. It reads simply, “I’m sorry, Kitten.”

I almost spit my mouthful of cocktail on the floor. Looking around, I wonder what everyone else thinks. Will they understand that Kitten is my nickname? I have no idea.

What is Nate up to?

My gaze sweeps over the room in search of that infuriating man. Admittedly, he has both captivated and challenged me. Where is he? And what does he want from me tonight?

"Have you seen Nate?" I ask another guest, a woman bedecked in diamonds and silk.

"Who are you looking for, dear?" she inquires. She lifts an eyebrow.

"Nate Fordham.” I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks at the mention of his name.

"Ah, Mr. Fordham," the woman crows. "Quite the enigma, isn't he? I saw him make a grand entrance earlier. You might want to look for him near the stage."

I thank her and thread my way through the crowd toward where she pointed. The Met’s grand hall doesn’t usually have a stage. But I can see that the huge marble staircase in the center of the hall is roped off. That must be what the woman meant.

I take another sip of the cocktail, savoring its sweet and tangy flavor, and continue my search. I pass by another note hanging from the ceiling. When I check this one, it says, “I would choose you in every lifetime.”

The note gives me pause. Is this what Nate actually feels? The note is scrawled on the card and the handwriting feels familiar, but I can’t be certain.

And so what if it is how he feels? Is that enough of an apology for publicly humiliating me?

"Annalise!" Someone calls my name.

I turn sharply, only to see one of Nate's brothers waving at me from across the room. It’s Cash. Not my favorite person, if I’m being honest. My heart sinks a little, knowing that whatever he has planned, his family is here, too.

"Hello, Cash." I force a smile as I approach him. "Have you seen Nate?"

"Don't worry. He'll find you when he's ready." Cash smiles pleasantly.

I notice that there is no attempt to hit on me. Cash seems to be a completely different person. I don’t trust it.

“What, no comment on my body or how I look in this dress?” I say dryly.

Cash gives me a sober glance. “Nate told me to behave myself tonight. He also threatened me with bodily harm if I said anything to upset you.”

“Did he now?” I eye Cash. “And you’re respecting that?”

“Of course. Nate said the magic words. ‘I’m going to marry her’.” He puts his hands up as if he’s surrendering. “You’re off limits now.”

“What?” I say, sucking in a breath. “He said that?”

“Close enough. I told Nate if he gave you a diamond, you would probably tell him where to stick it.” Cash wiggles his eyebrows. “Be nice to Nate, Annalise. The poor guy is kicking himself for doing you wrong.”

"No offense, Cash. But you aren’t the person I want to take life advice from.”

"Enjoy the evening, Annalise," Cash says with a wink. "I’ll see you soon.”

“What does that mean? See me when?” I call. But he’s moving away.

My fingers tighten around the delicate stem of my glass. That’s a huge assumption on Cash’s part. Shaking my head, I move deeper into the opulent venue. If Nate’s plan was to make me feel agitated, it’s all playing out perfectly.

I wander around, sipping my cocktail and looking at the ballet-themed art. Nate got one part of this correct. I am pretty ballet-crazy for a girl who never wore pointe shoes.

"Annalise?” I turn to find a tall man with graying hair and sharp blue eyes extending his hand to me. "I'm Richard Palmer, CEO of Palmer Technologies. I've heard a lot about you."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Palmer," I reply, shaking his hand firmly. "I hope the rumors haven't been too unkind."

"They haven’t. It’s just unfortunate that the national press was fed the wrong story about you. I’ve talked to Nate Fordham at length. From what I hear, you're a force to be reckoned with."

"Thank you. I try my best." I bob my head, not knowing how I should behave.

"Perhaps we could discuss potential collaborations between our companies sometime," Richard suggests. “Your ground-penetrating sonar technology is of particular interest to me.”

"That sounds…” I gulp. “Like an interesting opportunity?"

"Excellent," he replies. “I’ll have my assistant get in touch.”

I watch him go, trying not to gape. My mind reels from the encounter.

What is Nate planning to do here? Is this whole hall full of people he has talked to about me? I glance to my left and right. Tom Anderson, the VP of SoftPoint Software. Lisa Cheng, the CEO of Bradley Inc Investments. Djimon Hsu, an ultrawealthy patron of every charity I admire.

These people are obviously wealthy. And they could be here for the ballet? But maybe they’re more than ballet patrons.

It seems like they may be the movers and shakers of Fifth Avenue.

“Hello.” Nate’s amplified voice booms throughout the hall. “I’d like to bring your attention to the front here. In a few moments, the NYC Ballet is going to perform the denouement of Swan Lake.”

Nate is standing on the grand staircase. His tuxedo is impeccably tailored, hugging his muscular frame to perfection. He exudes power and sensuality as he waits for the crowd to quiet down. As he does, his eyes search the crowd.

My heart’s curiosity is decidedly piqued by this exasperating man.

"Annalise," someone whispers in my ear. Lori Parker catches my elbow. She raises an eyebrow at Nate's entry, clearly intrigued. "Any idea what he's up to?"

“What are you doing here?” I ask, alarmed.

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I was just told to attend this ballet fundraiser. I didn’t know that you would be here. And I definitely didn’t expect Nate Fordham to be behind it.”

I whisper back, "I promised Nate I would listen. Other than that, I’m as in the dark as everyone else."

“Give me a signal and we’ll hightail it out of here.” Lori squeezes my arm. “You have an escape plan?”

Giving her a quick side hug, I exhale a long breath. “I’m going to give him a few more minutes to make his point.”

The lights dim, signaling the start of the ballet program. Ballerinas glide gracefully onto the makeshift stage. They are amazing; their movements so fluid yet tightly controlled. The audience watches, mesmerized.

My eyes drift to Nate. He remains visibly attentive, clapping politely after each act. But his gaze occasionally drifts to where I sit. I meet his gaze several times but break eye contact after a moment.

I’m not swayed by anything I’ve seen yet. Nate hasn’t made a personal, vulnerable plea to me yet. I keep expecting him to come over.

But he doesn’t. I grit my teeth, frustrated.

As the final act concludes to thunderous applause, I steal one last glance at Nate. He's deep in conversation with a technician, scanning the room as if assessing its readiness for something grand. My heart hammers in anticipation.

The applause for the final ballet act dies down. Nate strides onto the steps again, commanding attention with his mere presence. He clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room. I watch him intently, trying to guess what he has planned.

"I’d like to thank Calum Fordham for lending us his ballet company," he begins, his voice smooth and rich. "I hope you've enjoyed the enchanting performance we've seen tonight. But now, I have something personal to share with you all."

His gray eyes lock onto mine, sending a shiver down my spine. I feel both exposed and intrigued.

I’m utterly unable to look away.

"Please direct your attention to the screen beside me." A large TV screen descends from the ceiling. As the lights dim, the screen casts a harsh glow on the expectant faces of the crowd.

"Roll the video," Nate commands.

As the professionally edited video begins, I see Nate. He’s dressed in casual clothes, sitting in what appears to be his luxurious penthouse. He looks directly at the camera.

But his piercing gray gaze seems to be directed at me alone. I suck in a breath.

"Annalise Gellar, I owe you an apology. I was wrong to push you out of your own company. All I can say is that I was blinded by arrogance and ambition. I’m so sorry that your face was splashed all over the media. Someone leaked lies about you embezzling company funds. I’m not responsible for the leak. But the fact that I didn’t correct the record when I had the chance… that’s my fault."

My breath catches in my throat. My mind races with disbelief at his admission.

“The thing is, Annalise. I started to fall for you.” He pauses for a long moment, then continues. “For the first time in a long time, I felt vulnerable. And I reacted the only way I knew how. I pushed– no, I shoved you away. And for that, I’m sorry. It was the worst decision of my life.”

My mouth opens. I cover it with my hand, heart thudding. Nate is apologizing and admitting to this whole room of Wall Street sharks that I make him feel vulnerable ?

No way .

"I’ve spent my entire life thinking that power and success were the only things that mattered. I was wrong. When you smile at me, those things seem like faraway concepts. I don’t care about Gellar Industries or the merger anymore. If it means losing you, I’ll walk away from all of it."

Nate looks at the camera with such a look of intense desperation. I can’t breathe. A tear slips down my cheek, unbidden. I brush it away without tearing my gaze from the screen.

The spotlight slices through the darkness, illuminating Nate. He moves toward me through the crowd. My heart thuds wildly in my chest.

"Annalise," he begins, his voice rich with emotion as he reaches me and drops down to one knee, "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, not after everything I've done." He glances around at the captivated audience before looking back into my eyes. "But I promise you, from this moment on, I will spend every day proving myself to you."

My pulse races faster with each word he utters.

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it. I love you, Annalise.”

The sincerity in his voice is impossible to deny.

"Are you saying—" I start, then stop. My voice is barely above a whisper. "Are you offering to put aside our rivalry?”

“Annalise.” He takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. "You are worth more to me than any empire. More than any fortune. I know that now."

I take a deep breath. Though I doubted him, Nate has done the unthinkable. He’s proven that he’ll do anything to be with me, including professing his love in front of his peers. To pretend that I’m not swayed by his admissions would be a lie.

"All right,” I whisper. I lock eyes with him.

"Is that a yes?" he clarifies, his expression tense and hopeful.

"Yes, Nate. Yes, I'll give you another chance."

Nate's face breaks into a smile. He picks me up and I slide my hands around his neck. Our lips meet in a passionate, searing kiss. People are lightly applauding, but my brain doesn’t even register it.

All there is in the entire world at this moment is Nate and me.

This, I think. This feeling right here. I’ve missed this so desperately.

When we finally break apart, Nate whispers in my ear.

“I’m ready to start making it up to you right now.” His words are laced with heat and anticipation. I shiver and kiss him again.

“Maybe you can make it up to me in the bedroom instead of the board room,” I whisper in his ear. “And my first act as CEO is to be on top…”