The driver slowed as the car eased up to the glowing facade of the Whitmore Foundation Hall. The event wasn’t grand like the galas Jason was used to—no red carpets, no flashing cameras—but the understated exclusivity spoke for itself. Only the right names ever received an invitation.
Jason adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal suit, his expression unreadable as he studied the people filing inside. He was here for business. Or at least, that was what he told Bobby when the man had pressed him earlier in the day.
“This isn’t about her,” Jason muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Beside him, Bobby chuckled, his tie already loosened, like the evening was a casual outing instead of a strategic networking opportunity. “You’ve repeated that line three times since we left your office.” The
