Chapter 177: The First Move

Chapter 177: Chapter 177: The First Move

Audrey kicked off her shoes the moment she walked into Mason’s apartment. She dropped her bag on the entryway bench and let out a long breath.

Mason walked out of the kitchen holding two glasses of red wine. He handed one to her and leaned against the wall. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt.

"You survived the cooking studio," Mason noted. "I was starting to think my mother put you to work washing dishes."

Audrey took a sip of the wine. "Worse. She asked me to co-host the annual donor appreciation dinner next month."

Mason stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, a genuine smile breaking across his face.

"My mother asked you to co-host?"

"Apparently," Audrey said, walking into the living room and sinking onto the sofa. "I am supposed to manage the presentation for the signature dessert course. She wants me to tell the story of the dish, engage the donors, and handle the floor."

Mason sat down next to her. He rested his arm along the back of the sofa. "She likes you."

"I think she just wants someone who can memorize a script and speak into a microphone without stuttering."

"She has an entire public relations department for that," Mason pointed out. "She asked you."

Audrey traced the rim of her wine glass. She was proud of the offer, but the reality of the situation was starting to set in. "Vanessa was there today."

Mason paused. The easy amusement faded from his eyes just a fraction.

"Vanessa was there?" Mason asked.

"Yes. She offered to help with the background logistics so I could focus on the presentation. She is handling the vendor coordination."

Mason looked at his glass. "Helping."

"Apparently," Audrey said. She watched his profile. "Do you think that is a bad idea?"

Mason thought about it. Vanessa had made her disdain for Audrey obvious in the past. But Victoria was not a fool. If Victoria was running the event, Vanessa would not dare pull a stunt that would embarrass the family matriarch.

"No," Mason decided. "If my mother is in charge, Vanessa will behave. She knows better than to cross Victoria."

Audrey nodded, accepting the logic. She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I am a little nervous."

"About Vanessa?"

"About the room," Audrey admitted. "I interview arrogant quarterbacks and aggressive sports agents for a living. I know how to handle them. But this dinner is full of billionaires, philanthropists, and old money politicians. People who have known your family for decades. I don’t exactly fit the demographic."

Mason shifted on the sofa. He turned so he could look directly at her.

"You don’t have to become one of them to stand beside them," Mason said quietly.

"That is easy for you to say. You grew up with these people."

"Maybe. But you are not being invited to host because you are my girlfriend."

Audrey raised an eyebrow. "Then why?"

"Because my mother thinks you are good at what you do," Mason said. "You find the angle. You know how to read an audience. Do not let the price tags on their suits intimidate you. Quarterbacks have much bigger egos anyway."

Audrey let out a quiet laugh. The tight knot of anxiety in her chest loosened. She leaned in and kissed him.

"Thank you," she murmured against his mouth.

Mason kissed her back, his hand wrapping warmly around the back of her neck. "Just don’t wear a press badge to the dinner."

Across the city, Vanessa sat at her polished glass dining table. The glow of her laptop illuminated her face.

She had the vendor contact list open on her screen. She picked up her phone and dialed the number for the executive catering company handling the dessert course.

The line rang twice before a man answered.

"Julian speaking."

"Julian, hi. It is Vanessa. I am calling regarding the Calloway Foundation dinner next month."

"Of course, Vanessa. We are prepping the initial order forms now. What can I do for you?"

Vanessa kept her voice bright and professional. "I need a small change to the delivery window for the final course components. The spun sugar sculptures and the infused creams."

Julian hesitated. "The order is already confirmed with Victoria’s office. We have the delivery scheduled for two in the afternoon. That gives your team four hours to prep the plates before service."

"I know," Vanessa said smoothly. "But Audrey requested a change."

"Audrey?"

"Audrey is managing the presentation for this course," Vanessa explained. "She feels the components will be much fresher if they arrive closer to service. She wants the delivery pushed to six in the evening."

Julian let out a stressed sigh. "Six? The doors open at six. The guests will be in the building. That leaves your floor team zero margin for error to plate two hundred intricate desserts."

"Audrey was very specific," Vanessa lied, injecting a note of sympathetic apology into her tone. "I tried to advise her otherwise, but she insists this is the best way to maintain the integrity of the dish. Can you make the adjustment?"

Julian typed something on his keyboard. "If the host requests it, I will make the change. But please remind her that my staff only drops off the components. Her waitstaff has to do the assembly in record time."

"I will make sure Audrey understands," Vanessa promised. "Thank you, Julian."

She ended the call.

She set the phone down and smiled.

It was a brilliant, invisible trap. At six in the evening, Audrey would be dressed in a gown, greeting major donors, holding a microphone. She would be the face of the event.

And in the kitchen, two hundred unassembled desserts would arrive with no time to plate them. The waitstaff would panic. The course would be delayed. The delicate sugar work would likely break during a rushed assembly.

When Victoria demanded to know why the kitchen was failing, Julian would show her the logistics sheet. He would tell Victoria that Audrey requested the delay.

Audrey would look arrogant, incompetent, and entirely out of her depth.

Over the next week, Audrey threw herself into the preparation. She treated the tasting menu like a front-page investigative feature.

She sat at her desk in the bustling newsroom with a stack of Calloway Foundation historical documents spread out next to her sports analytics.

Ben walked past her cubicle holding a mug of stale coffee. He stopped and looked at the glossy foundation brochures.

"Are we investigating charity fraud now?" Ben asked, picking up a pamphlet about clean water initiatives.

"No," Audrey said, pulling the pamphlet out of his hand. "I am co-hosting a dinner for them."

Ben stared at her. "You are hosting a billionaire gala."

"Yes."

Ben took a slow sip of his coffee. "Please do not forget us peasants when you are sipping vintage champagne on a yacht."

"It is a dinner, Ben. Not a yacht."

"It starts with a dinner. Next thing we know, you are wearing large hats and buying a racehorse."

Audrey rolled her eyes. "Go back to work."

Ben chuckled and walked away to bother Daisy.

Audrey went back to her notes. She did not just memorize the menu. She researched the origin of every ingredient. She called Victoria twice that week to ask pointed, intelligent questions about the foundation’s specific goals for the upcoming year.

Victoria was thrilled. The older woman spent an hour on the phone with Audrey, explaining the nuances of their latest charity initiative. Audrey took detailed notes. She wanted to weave the foundation’s mission into her presentation.

She wanted to earn her place in that room.

On Friday afternoon, Vanessa sat in a high-end coffee shop downtown.

Her phone vibrated in her purse.

She pulled it out and looked at the screen. It was an automated text message from the catering logistics system.

Confirmation: Delivery schedule updated. Final course components to arrive at 6:00 PM per host request.

Vanessa stared at the confirmation for several seconds.

The trap was set. The safety net was removed.

She deleted the message from her phone. She took a slow sip of her iced latte.

Across the city, Audrey was sitting at her desk, writing a beautiful, engaging speech for the final course. She was doing the work. She was trying her best to bridge the gap between her world and Mason’s.

Vanessa smiled at the thought.

"Let’s see what happens when everything goes wrong," Vanessa murmured.