Chapter 8

The chandeliers of the Grand Ballroom were doing their job, casting a thousand diamond-cut shards of light across the sea of silk, velvet, and expensive perfume, but my vision was blurred by the sheer weight of his gaze. I stood near the grand staircase, a crystal flute of champagne forgotten in my hand, watching him across the crowded room. He was holding court, as he always did, but his attention wasn’t on the mayor’s wife or the tech mogul sipping sparkling water. It was locked onto me, heavy and possessive, a physical touch that traced the line of my collarbone and dipped lower, past the neckline of my emerald dress, settling somewhere deep in my core. Chapter Eight — Return. The clock was ticking, though no one else seemed to notice. The gala was winding down, the orchestra had shifted from a lively waltz to a softer, more melancholic adagio, signaling the end of the night’s performance. The air was thick with the scent of truffle, old money, and the electric charge of a secret that was becoming impossible to keep buried. We had danced twice. Once in the center of the floor, surrounded by the adoring eyes of the