Chapter 3

The air inside the cavernous convention center was thick, heavy with the scent of stale coffee, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of electricity humming from the overhead rigging. It was late evening now, the peak crowds having thinned into a scattered stream of attendees heading toward the exits or the late-night after-party. I had been standing by the display booths for what felt like hours, my heels digging into the plush carpet until my arches burned. My legs were heavy, leaden weights that refused to respond to my commands, and I knew I was about to collapse. I had been trying to maintain my composure, to keep the professional mask firmly in place, but the day had been long. There had been the networking events, the forced smiles, the clinking of champagne flutes, and through it all, him. He had been a presence at my back, a shadow that moved with me. Every time I turned, his eyes were there, dark and assessing, tracing the line of my neck or the curve of my hip with a intensity that made my skin prickle. He hadn’t said much, just watched, observed, and waited. And now, with the crowd gone,