HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 28: Heir To The News Network

"Is this the woman you were telling me about, Mr. Carter?" Vincent asks while I stand frozen in shock, staring at him.

He's around my age, dressed impeccably in a cashmere sweater and dark slacks. His blonde hair is neatly trimmed, and his eyes are a warm shade of chocolate. Paired with his soft smile, he exudes a kind and approachable demeanor.

"Yes," Mr. Carter replies, gesturing toward me. "Mrs. Rafha Samson, adopted daughter of Preston."

"Ah, I thought you looked familiar," Vincent says. "We've probably been at the same parties over the years. I regret that we were never introduced."

It's only then that I recover from my initial shock and realize how rude I've been, just staring without saying a word. I step forward, eager to correct my faux pas.

"Forgive me. I must have been starstruck for a moment," I say, laughing at myself. I extend my hand. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mr. Vincent."

Vincent keeps his smile, but he doesn't move an inch—not even to glance at my outstretched hand. "The pleasure is mine, Mrs. Samson."

Feeling slightly awkward, I lower my hand. "Please, call me Rafha."

"Only if you call me Vincent m."

"Rafha was just deciding whether to assist you with your upcoming event," Mr. Carter interjects, meeting my eyes with an enthusiastic expression. "She's always been such an asset. Very talented, this one."

He's exaggerating. I've only been here for two weeks. He's clearly trying to manipulate both Vincent and me—Vincent by inflating my importance and me by flattering me into saying yes.

But the joke's on him. I wasn't going to say no anyway. "I'm always happy to help our guests," I reply, flashing a smile at both Mr. Carter and Hugo. "It just so happens that I really love golf."

Unlike Mr. Carter, I'm not lying. I haven't played much since college, but I still sneak out occasionally to hit a few shots on the range. I have a decent set of clubs sitting in the garage, ready for action.

Not that I expect to actually play in the tournament. As the planner, my job is to oversee everything, which leaves little time for swinging a club myself.

"I'm glad," Vincent says kindly. "Hopefully, that will make this easier for you."

"Thank you, Rafha," Chris whispers to me. I nod at her, happy to help. She deserves to enjoy her son's wedding without worrying about work. And Mr. Carter should be able to relax on his anniversary cruise.

"Mrs. Carter thanks you too," Mr. Carter adds.

"Mr. Vincen—" I start to say.

"Vincent, remember?" he gently corrects.

"Vincent," I echo. His eyes sparkle, and despite myself, I feel a flutter of nerves. It's hard not to notice how handsome he is, especially when he looks at me like I'm the most important person in the room. "Shall we sit down in the office and go over the details?"

"Oh, use my office, Rafha," Mr. Carter insists. "I'll be around the grounds all day anyway. You know the password to my computer?"

"1234" is hardly a password, something I've told him a hundred times.

"It's the only thing I can remember," he always says when confronted. I still have no idea how he's managed to hold this job for so long.

"I do," I reply with a tight-lipped smile. "This way, Vincent."

"After you, Rafha ," he says graciously.

I lead Vincent down the corridor toward Mr. Carter's office. He moves with such confident ease that I suspect he's been here many times before. That should make things easier—he likely already knows exactly what he wants.