Chapter 5 - An Unexpected Proposal
The chaos of Rachel’s expulsion left the grand ballroom in a state of surreal suspended animation. The three hundred guests stood around in awkward, whispering clusters, unsure whether to head for the exit or wait to see what catastrophe would strike next.
My mother, having miraculously recovered from her fainting spell with the help of a double shot of brandy, was currently sitting in a corner chair glaring at me with enough heat to melt steel.
"Hannah," Eleanor hissed, beckoning me with a trembling, ring-bedecked finger. "You vile, ungrateful creature. Look what you've done to our family name! We'll never be invited to a decent party in Newport again!"
"Good," I said calmly, not taking a single step toward her. "It saves us both the trouble of RSVPing."
Before Eleanor could launch into another tirade, Daniel Hayes stepped into my path. He was holding a fresh glass of sparkling water—having wisely abandoned the champagne—and his expression was unreadable.
"Mrs. Morgan," Daniel said, using my last name with a polite, formal nod.
"It's Miss Morgan," I corrected him, keeping my hand firmly on Emma’s shoulder. "And Mr. Hayes, if you're about to ask my daughter or me any more questions, my answer is that we're going home. It's past her bedtime."
Daniel looked down at Emma, who was staring up at him with wide, curious eyes.
"Actually, Miss Morgan," Daniel said, his voice dropping slightly so the surrounding gossips couldn't overhear. "I wasn't going to ask questions. I was going to offer a proposition."
"A proposition," I repeated skeptically. "Given your track record with propositions tonight, excuse me if I'm less than enthusiastic."
Daniel gave a short, dry laugh—a sound with no real humor in it, but plenty of self-awareness. "Fair enough. But hear me out. My firm—Sterling & Hayes—handles a massive portfolio of educational trusts, philanthropic foundations, and municipal real estate developments across Rhode Island. For the past year, we’ve been looking for an independent auditor and educational consultant to oversee our community outreach programs."
He paused, his sharp blue eyes locking onto mine.
"According to your personnel file—which I happened to review while waiting for the ceremony to start—you hold a master's degree in public administration alongside your education degree, and you spent three years working as a financial analyst before you went into teaching. Is that correct?"
I blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. "How do you know my resume?"
"I do my research before I invest," Daniel said smoothly. "Unlike my ex-fiancée, I prefer partners who actually possess competence rather than just a designer wardrobe."
Emma tugged gently on the sleeve of my emerald wrap dress. "Mom, Mr. Hayes has really nice shoes. Even if one of them broke."
I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
"Mr. Hayes," I said, meeting his gaze levelly. "Are you offering me a job in the middle of your cancelled wedding reception while three hundred snobs watch us from the corners of the room?"
"I am offering you a senior consulting position with a salary that will allow you to pay off your student loans by next Tuesday, full health benefits for your daughter, and an office on the top floor of the Sterling Building overlooking the harbor," Daniel replied without missing a beat. "Furthermore, my firm handles pro bono legal defense for working single mothers in Newport. If your ex-husband is behind on child support—which I strongly suspect he is—my litigation team can resolve that matter by Friday morning."
I stared at him. The sheer audacity of the man—proposing a career-altering corporate partnership in the smoking ruins of his own wedding—was breathtaking. But beneath the cold, calculating veneer, there was something else in his eyes: genuine respect.
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"And what's the catch?" I asked. "Every contract has a catch."
"The catch," Daniel said, taking a sip of his water, "is that you and Emma have to stay for dessert. The chef prepared a five-tier vanilla-bean wedding cake, and frankly, it would be a tragedy to let it go to waste."
