I turn, still smiling from Julian's joke, and lock eyes with Alexander Kingsley across the room.
The world around me blurs. The crowd fades to a hum of white noise. There's only Alexander, standing twenty feet away, his green eyes fixed on mine. He's impeccable as always—tailored tuxedo, perfect posture, that face that still haunts my dreams. But it's not his appearance that steals my breath.
It's who he's with.
Fiona Astor stands beside him, her arm looped through his like she belongs there. Her crimson dress makes her look like she's been dipped in blood. Her dark hair is swept up to showcase diamond earrings that catch the light with every calculated tilt of her head.
The last time I saw her was in Alexander's office, when she'd looked at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her Louboutin. She'd made it clear then that she thought I was beneath him, beneath her, beneath this entire world I was trying to navigate. Now she's at his side.
Alexander's expression shifts from shock to something unreadable—a tightening around his eyes, a slight clench of his jaw. Does he know about the baby? Has he somehow found out? Or is he just surprised to see me here, with these two men whose hands keep finding reasons to touch me?
My stomach lurches, and for a terrifying moment, I think I might actually be sick right here on the marble floor. Julian issaying something to me, but his words sound far away. Tristan's hand presses against my lower back, steadying me.
"I need to—" I mumble, already pulling away from them. "Bathroom. Just a minute."
I don't wait for their response. I turn and move through the crowd, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. Don't run, I tell myself. Don't make a scene. Just breathe. Just move.
Thank god the women's restroom is empty. I grip the marble countertop, staring at my reflection in the gilded mirror. My face looks pale beneath my carefully applied makeup, my eyes too wide, too bright.
"Pull it together," I whisper to myself. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter."
But the lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Alexander does matter. He's the father of my child, whether he knows it or not. And seeing him with Fiona—God, why her? Of all people?
I splash cold water on my wrists, an old trick my mother taught me for calming down. It doesn't help. My heart still pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape.
Why am I so upset? I'm happy with Julian and Tristan. What Alexander does—who he dates—shouldn't affect me like this. But the image of Fiona at his side makes me want to throw up. I hate her smug face, her perfect body, her obvious satisfaction at being where I once stood.
The door opens, and I straighten up, expecting to see some socialite ready to judge my obvious breakdown. Instead, Julian slips inside, concern etched across his handsome face.
"Hey," he says softly. "What happened back there? You look like you've seen a ghost."
I open my mouth to tell him—to confess that Alexander is here, that seeing him with Fiona feels like someone's twisting a knife in my gut. But the words stick in my throat. Julian has been so good to me, so understanding about the baby, about my pastwith Alexander. I don't want him to think that I'm still hung up on a man who discarded me without a second thought.
"Nothing," I manage, forcing a smile that feels like it might crack my face. "Just got a little overwhelmed. Pregnancy stuff."
Julian studies me, those kind eyes seeing too much. "You sure that's all it is?"
I nod, swallowing the truth down like a pill too large for my throat. "I'm sure. Just needed a minute to breathe."
He doesn't believe me. I can tell by the way his head tilts slightly, the way his eyes narrow. But he doesn't push, and that makes me like him even more.
"Take all the time you need," he says, pulling me to him briefly. "Tristan and I will be right outside when you're ready."
As he turns to leave, guilt washes over me. I can’t believe he didn’t see Alexander. Because if he had he would know what’s going on with me. I should tell him. I should be honest. But the words don't come, and then he's gone, and I'm alone again with my reflection and the truth I can't seem to share.
We leave shortly after I come out of the bathroom. I glance around for another glimpse of Alexander but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Julian drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders without asking. It smells like him and I take a deep whiff. Tristan walks a step ahead, his back rigid as he signals to the valet.
As we wait for the car, I keep scanning the entrance, half-terrified Alexander might appear with Fiona on his arm. My stomach churns at the thought of a confrontation. I just need to get away from here, away from the possibility of those green eyes finding me again.
"Car's coming," Tristan says.
Julian's hand finds mine, squeezing gently. "You're shivering," he murmurs.
I am. I'm rattled, shaken to my core by a two-second eye contact with a man who doesn't even know he's going to be the father of my baby. What does that say about me? About the feelings I'm supposed to have buried?
The sleek black car pulls up, and Tristan opens the door for me. I slide into the backseat, Julian following close behind. Tristan takes the front passenger seat, his profile sharp against the city lights as we pull away from the curb.
