Chapter 3

The air in the private cellar had grown thick, heavy with the scent of aged oak, damp earth, and the sharp, tannic bite of a rare vintage that cost more than my first car. We had moved from the initial tasting table to a secluded alcove, shielded by towering shelves of magnum bottles, where the ambient chatter of the gala had faded into a low, distant hum. I was wearing that charcoal silk dress again, the one that clung to every curve, and I could feel the cool stone against my bare legs as I sat on the velvet-upholstered bench. My feet were killing me. The heels were exquisite, black patent leather with a stiletto that threatened my balance, but they were also tortures designed for aesthetics rather than comfort. He stood beside me, a towering silhouette against the dim amber lighting. He hadn’t said a word in five minutes. He was just watching me, his dark eyes tracing the line of my jaw, the way my lips parted slightly when I exhaled. The silence between us wasn’t empty; it was charged, vibrating with a static that made the hair on my arms stand up. It was the kind of