And then I saw him. Noah. God.
He stepped through the arched entrance like he didn’t even belong to this world — tux hugging every inch of him with maddening perfection, black mask carved with clean lines that made him even more dangerous-looking. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his hands through it one too many times, probably in frustration or nerves, and somehow that made it worse. Better.Everything.
My breath caught in my throat, and for once —Iwas the one stunned speechless.
He found me instantly.
Of course he did.
He moved through the crowd like there was no one else in the room, eyes locked on me, and when he reached me, his hand slid around my waist with a confidence that made every nerve in my body light up like static.
“You’re going to ruin me,” he said low against my ear, voice velvet and wildfire. “In that dress… I won’t be able to control myself much longer.”
I smiled — slow, wicked, but beneath it was something trembling and soft.
“Maybe I don’t want you to.”
He kissed me then — right there in front of the crowd, the music, the masks — and it wasn’t sweet.
It wasclaiming.
His mouth crushed against mine with a hunger that told me he didn’t care about eyes or whispers or expectations. His lips moved over mine like he’d been starving, like every second without me had been too long. His hand tightened at my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I felt it — the heat, the promise, the way his control was slipping and hedidn’t care.
When he finally pulled back, his voice was rough. “Happy birthday, Sunshine.”
I could barely speak.
We walked into the heart of the gala, arm in arm, and suddenly people were surrounding us — smiles, champagne, laughter.
“Happy birthday, Liz!”
“You look stunning!”
“This party is unreal!”
I smiled and nodded, gave polite thank-yous and hugs, but it was all a blur. My whole body was still humming from his kiss. From his eyes.
From the way he was looking at me likeI was the only thing keeping him upright.
Eventually, the lights dimmed slightly and the music shifted into something slow and aching and classical.
Noah extended his hand.
“Dance with me.”
I took it.
His hand was warm and steady as he pulled me into the center of the dance floor. The crowd made room like they were waiting for this moment too. My heart thundered in my chest, but my feet knew where to go. We moved together like we’d done this in another life — his hand at my lower back, mine resting just above his heart.
And God, that heart.
I could feel it beneath my fingertips — fast, real, just like mine.
As we moved, I couldn’t look away from him.
His eyes were soft behind the mask, his smile slight but full of something sohonestit hurt. He looked at me like I wasn’t just beautiful. Like I washis beginning.
I’d been trained to survive. Programmed to win. Built to be sharp.
