Chapter 2

The air in the private antechamber of the opera box was thick, heavy with the scent of old velvet, polished wood, and the faint, metallic tang of anticipation. It was a small, secluded room tucked away behind the heavy crimson drapes that separated our box from the bustling corridor, a space meant for quiet conversation or the adjustment of cravats, but tonight it felt charged, electric with the unspoken tension that had been building between us since the overture began. I stood by the tall, arched window, watching the stage below through the gap in the curtains, though my attention was entirely on the man sitting on the velvet settee, his eyes fixed on me with a predatory stillness that made my skin prickle. I had changed into a different dress, a slip of midnight blue silk that clung to every curve, the fabric cool against my heated skin. It was a riskier choice than the modest navy dress I had arrived in, and I knew he had noticed. I had felt his gaze traveling up my legs, lingering on the dip of my waist, burning through the thin material as I adjusted the strap on my shoulder. Now, standing