We walk into Rockefeller Center and through the lobby to the elevator banks that will take us to the Rainbow Room. Men and women in their finest attire are loading into the available spots. Branson says hi to many as I wait patiently for my chance to board.
Someone makes room for him in a packed elevator, and he steps on. The doors are about to close when he notices he’s left me behind. He stops the doors from closing and calls out for me to climb on board with him.
My back is to him, right up against his chest. He places a hand on my waist, but I don’t know if it’s to touch me for the sake of touching me or to keep himself from losing his balance as he stands in the middle of the car.
The doors open, and I’m the first to step out, handing my jacket to a woman who’s offering a coat check.
The ballroom is iconic with its round dance floor and crystal chandelier. Talk about opulence. From the sixty-fifth floor, you feel like you’re floating among the stars with the most gorgeous view of New York City.
People surround us on all ends, all dressed to the nines in ballgowns and tuxedos. Cameras flash, trying to get the best pictures of everyone as they enter.
Branson places his hand on my lower back as he leads me through the cocktail hour. True to his word, he walks me around the room, introducing me to people as Katherine McGee. I don’t get to have work conversation yet, as everyone seems to be keen on discussing their recent travel plans and when they will open their Hamptons house for the season. A waiter walks by with caviar, and the champagne is even better than what we served at the Empire Media holiday party. It’s all so very high class and extravagant.
I think about my time with Hunter’s family and how simple everything was and yet so perfect. There was something about seeing that man do the dishes that I found impossibly sexy. I giggle to myself, just thinking about how crazy that sounds.
“Everything okay, love?”
“Yes.” I wipe the smile from my face. “Just remembering something.”
He seems put off by that. “Well, as they say, there’s no time like the present.”
“Mr. Ford, you can take your seat. The dinner is getting underway,” a woman says as she turns to escort us directly to our table.
She keeps her eyes on him, glancing back to him multiple times on the short walk from where we’re standing to our table on the dance floor. She pulls out Branson’s chair, and he sidesteps away, placing a hand on my chair to pull it out. I thank him as I lower myself.
Branson takes his own seat as the hostess runs a hand down his arm in the most flirtatious way. I’m surprised to see he pays her advances no mind. Instead, his attention is on me. She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles a thank-you.
The hostess leaves, and Branson picks up a glass of champagne sitting on the table to hand to me. “Happy New Year, Katherine.”
We clink glasses, and when he places his hand around mine, I take in a sharp inhale as he pulls me close to him.
“To new beginnings!”
“Yes, the New Year will certainly bring on change.”
“Not just the New Year. I told you, after you made your presentation, doors would be open to you. I see a promotion in your near future. Now, it’s just a matter of where you’ll go.”
He drinks his bubbly, and I follow suit.
“You sound pretty eager to get rid of me,” I joke, although I have to say, I’ll miss working for Branson.
He lifts his dark brow and gives a grin. “I’ve quite enjoyed having you by my side these past two years, but as I told you when I hired you, I believe in stepping-stones.”
“You were a great teacher.”
“It was my honor to work with you. Soon, you’ll no longer be my subordinate, but a colleague. The rules will change.”
I halt my glass against my mouth as I take in his comment.
“Hunter must have been quite upset when he heard I was stealing you away from him tonight.”
My eyes widen as I shift in my seat, almost spilling my champagne in the process.
“Careful. You don’t want to cause a scene, love,” he says, scooting back slightly to ensure he doesn’t get his tuxedo wet.
“I’m sorry. I was caught off guard by your comment.” I swallow. “Hunter and I haven’t spoken.”
If Branson is upset by this in any way, it is clearly hidden by the dazzling smile across his princely face.
A man walks up behind Branson and places a hand on his shoulder. Branson sees who it is and stands to shake his hand.
“Richard, I’d like to introduce you to my date, Katherine McGee,” Branson says as he motions back to me.
I have to blow out a breath. Tonight’s the first time he’s introduced me as anything other than his assistant. “Nice to meet you,” I say, trying to act unaffected. “Do you work within Empire Media as well?”
Richard laughs, his round stomach threatening to pop a button on his coat. “Nope. I leave the magic up to this man right here. I’m a shareholder. Fantastic presentation you put on today.”
“Thank you so much. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. I was a bit nervous.”
“Nonsense. You had a lot to get through in a short amount of time. What are your plans for the future?”
This is it. This is why Branson brought me here tonight. “Media market strategy. Create new shows and find the best time slots for them based on ratings data.”
He nods his head. “Wish I could help you. I’m in the tech industry. If you want to come on over to the dark side, just let me know.” He waves to someone across the room and then turns back to me. “It was lovely to meet you, my dear. You’ve got quite the catch with that one,” Richard says as he winks and heads off.
I turn to Branson, who is now chatting with a woman who came over to him. I glance around the room and don’t recognize one person here. I guess I shouldn’t. This is the who’s who in media.
Branson wraps his arm around me, his hand close to my hip as he whispers in my ear, “Let’s get another drink.”
I hold up my empty champagne glass. He takes it from me.
“I could go for some whiskey, I guess, to help take the edge off.”
He eyes me dryly. “Since when did you start drinking whiskey?”
“I always have. It’s something my father and I picked up on our travels.”
Branson lets out a harrumph sound.
I smile to myself at the thought of Hunter.
“I notice things.”
He noticed me long before our kiss at the bar.
“A woman like you needs a drink with complexity.”
“A woman like me?”
We get to the bar, and he orders me a Vieux Carré. “It’s a mix of rye whiskey, cognac, sweet vermouth, Bénédictine liqueur, and bitters,” he explains with sophistication. “It originates from New Orleans.”
I take a sip and admit it’s delicious, big in flavor, but it’s not my drink. I like the simple stuff. Straight-up whiskey.
A tall man approaches Branson with an extended hand.
“Jim,” Branson says. “Congratulations on an incredible year in cable news.”
“Empire Media is doing a fantastic job in syndication. We’re looking at taking one of your documentary series to air in prime time,” Jim says.