Chapter 4

The air in the private nook of the event space hung heavy, thick with the scent of old velvet, stale champagne, and the faint, sweet residue of the floral arrangements that had begun to wilt hours ago. It was late—past the hour when the staff had started their quiet cleanup in the main hall, their footsteps fading into the distance until only the hum of the HVAC system remained. We were alone here, tucked away in the alcove behind the grand staircase, a secluded corner where the shadows played longer and the noise of the party was just a distant, muffled thrum against the floor-to-ceiling windows. I had slipped away from the crowd, escaping the chatter and the clinking of glasses, seeking a moment of solitude. But solitude, I discovered, was not what I got when I found him. He was standing by the large window, his back to me, silhouetted against the city lights that bled through the glass. He wore a tuxedo that fit him like a second skin, the fabric dark and sleek, accentuating the broad slope of his shoulders. He looked like a king in exile, waiting for his court to return, or perhaps, waiting for