That body—broad, coiled, commanding—moved through the blush-toned haze of the lounge like it wasn’t a powder room but a battlefield. And when his eyes found mine, something inside me locked into place.
It was definitely him.
The man from the ball.
The one who’d held me like a secret and fucked me like a promise. No mask now. No tux. Just dark jeans and a jacket, mouth set like he was one wrong word from wrecking someone.
Marshall turned.
“Can I help you?” he asked, all fake civility and puffed-up posture.
My mystery man didn’t answer right away. He just looked at me. Not in the way men looked at women in country clubs or over cocktails. But like I mattered. Like I wasn’t a showpiece or a pawn or a problem.
Like he remembered me.
Except … he didn’t.
Because I saw it in his eyes—confusion. Tension. He knew me. But not from the ball. Not from the bedroom.
He thought I was someone else.
And I realized—too late—so did I.
Oh, my fucking God.
I remembered now. That jaw. That voice. The truck.
He was the man from the airport.
Charlie.Just Charlie.
The one who’d picked me up when my driver didn’t show and hadn’t even flinched when I’d rolled my eyes so hard I gave myself a headache. The one who’d driven mostly in silence, stoic and brooding, like he belonged in another life entirely.
I stared at him, heart punching against my ribs.
He was both. The man from the ball and the man from the truck.
And he had no idea.
“Didn’t realize this was a unisex bathroom,” Marshall sneered, trying to puff up beside me like a preening rooster. “Unless you’re here to powder your nose.”
Charlie’s gaze didn’t leave me. “You okay?”
Two words. Low. Steady.
They hit harder than Marshall’s entire existence.
I swallowed. Nodded once.
Marshall took a step forward, clearly not liking the attention shift. “She’s fine. We’re having a conversation.”
Charlie finally turned to him. The effect was instant.
Marshall straightened, instinctively pulling his blazer tighter, like that could protect him from whatever was brewing behind Charlie’s eyes.
“That so?” Charlie asked, voice smooth but lined with something sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you followed her into the ladies’ room.”
“Do you work here?” Marshall snapped. “Because if not, I’d suggest you?—”
