Chapter Seven

Jasmine sat at the bar, sipping her drink slowly as she tried to collect her thoughts. Running into Antonio had thrown her off balance more than she cared to admit. There was something about him—his presence, his confidence—that unsettled her in a way she wasn't used to.

She had planned to get through the night with minimal socializing, but fate had other plans.

As she turned away from the bar, a well-dressed woman approached her, offering a warm smile. She appeared to be in her late forties, her blonde hair styled in an elegant updo, wearing a designer gown that exuded effortless wealth.

"You must be Jasmine Harrington," the woman said, extending a manicured hand. "I'm Camille Laurent."

Jasmine accepted the handshake, slightly taken aback that the woman knew her name. "It's nice to meet you, Ms. Laurent."

Camille's smile didn't waver. "Please, call me Camille. I recognized you from an article in a mental health column last month. Your approach to therapy caught my attention. I admire what you do."

Jasmine was surprised. She hadn't expected anyone at this event to know about her work, let alone be interested in it. "That's very kind of you. I wasn't aware the article had reached so many people."

"Oh, it certainly did," Camille assured her. "In fact, I was hoping we could speak for a moment. My husband has been struggling with anxiety for quite some time, but he refuses to seek help. He's a proud man, and in our social circles, there's still a stigma around mental health. But after reading about your work, I thought perhaps he might feel comfortable with someone like you."

Jasmine's professional instincts immediately kicked in. She nodded, understanding the delicate nature of the situation. "I'd be happy to set up a consultation, if he's open to it. Sometimes the hardest part is taking the first step, but if he sees therapy as a way to regain control rather than a weakness, it might help."

Camille looked relieved. "That's exactly what I was hoping to hear. If you have a card, I'd love to pass it along to him."

Jasmine reached into her clutch and handed over her business card. "Of course. Tell him there's no pressure, just an opportunity to talk."

As Camille tucked the card into her purse, another voice joined the conversation.

"Jasmine, I was hoping I'd run into you."

She turned to find a tall man in a navy-blue suit standing nearby. His features were sharp, his demeanor polished. She recognized him as Julian Carter, a well-known entrepreneur and investor. She had seen his name in business articles but had never met him in person.

Julian gave her an easy smile. "I've been meaning to reach out. A close friend of mine recently lost his wife, and he's been struggling to cope. He refuses to speak to anyone about it, but I think if I recommended someone with a different approach, he might reconsider."

Jasmine took a steady breath. The night had turned into an unexpected networking opportunity, but she wasn't complaining. If she could help people, that was all that mattered.

"I'd be honored to help in any way I can," she replied. "Grief is complex, and sometimes having a neutral space to process emotions makes all the difference."

Julian nodded, pulling out his phone. "I'll pass your information along to him. He might not be ready right away, but at least he'll know the option is there."

"Of course," Jasmine said, appreciating the gesture.

As Julian and Camille exchanged a few more pleasantries and excused themselves, Jasmine let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

She had come here expecting nothing more than a few awkward conversations and an early exit, but instead, she had gained potential clients—people who genuinely needed her help.

Maybe attending this event wasn't such a bad idea after all.

And yet, as she glanced across the room and caught sight of Antonio watching her from a distance, she couldn't shake the feeling that this night held more significance than she had originally thought.

Something told her this was only the beginning.

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