His mouth curved just enough to show amusement.“Because I can practically see the smoke rising from your mental gears.”
She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a playful bump with her shoulder.“Don’t worry,” she teased.“My head’s not going to explode like a cartoon character.”
He chuckled, the low sound brushing against her nerves in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely.Then his palm settled at the small of her back—warm, steady, and unmistakably guiding—as he led her through the remaining paintings.
Toward the rear of the showroom, a knot of people clustered around one particular piece.The crowd murmured in hushed reverence, parting just enough for Natalie to catch glimpses of gold tones and fine brushwork.
When they finally reached the front, her breath hitched.“Is that…?”she whispered, awe threading through her voice.
“It is,” Rylan confirmed, his tone holding polite appreciation.But as she glanced at him, she noticed the absence of the spark she’d seen earlier when he’d looked at the other painting.No visceral pull, no quiet hunger—just a small shrug, as though he’d already decided it wasn’t meant for him.There was something almost resigned in the set of his jaw, but before she could wonder why, the sharp, ear-splitting sound of a woman’s delighted screech cut through the air.
Natalie flinched at the sheer volume.
The woman barreled toward them, her champagne glass sloshing precariously with each dramatic step.Her too-bright smile stretched wide, eyes locked on Rylan as if Natalie didn’t exist.In an instant, her arms were around his neck, her thin frame pressing into his with almost desperate familiarity.
Natalie froze, every muscle in her body locking tight.
Then came the red-lipsticked kiss—bold, uninvited, and far too intimate.
Heat flared in Natalie’s chest, sharp and unpleasant.She stepped back, putting distance between herself and the scene, pretending the movement was casual.They were just friends, Natalie reminded herself.She had no right to feel like her skin was on fire.But good grief, it still burned.
To his credit, Rylan pulled back instantly, then wiped the red lipstick off, his eyes scowling down at the woman as he gripped her upper arms and set her back several inches.However, the woman didn’t seem discouraged at all.
“Oh, it’s been so long!”the woman exclaimed, voice pitched high enough to draw a half-dozen curious glances.She moved closer, her body language implying an intimacy between them that made Natalie’s stomach twist.Standing in towering platform heels, this new woman met Rylan’s gaze almost evenly.
She wiggled against him, undeterred when Rylan moved away again.She simply stepped closer, purring as she said, “When I heard you were on the guest list, I flew in from Los Angeles on a whim—just for the chance to reconnect!”
Natalie turned away, keeping her eyes on a nearby painting, willing herself to be unaffected.But her peripheral vision betrayed her: Rylan’s features had hardened, his irritation clear in the sharp line of his mouth and the faint narrowing of his eyes.The woman, oblivious—or perhaps deliberately ignoring it—slid closer, letting her body curve against his in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
“Oh, don’t be upset with me, love!”she soothed Rylan, her mock whisper carrying across the room.“I still remember our time on your yacht last year.”She shifted just enough to face a nearby phone camera, pressing in for maximum scandal value.Her lips curved in a glossy, calculated smile.The moment the photo was taken, the warmth in her face dropped, her expression sharpening back on Rylan.
“We could do that again, don’t you think?”
Rylan’s response was swift and cold.He removed her hands from him with quiet precision, his fingers firm around her wrists.“No.”The single word landed like a gavel strike.
But she wasn’t finished.Her hands slid back, clinging lightly to his arm, her manicured fingernails brushing his sleeve as though she hadn’t heard him at all.
Natalie’s champagne flute felt heavier in her grip.She sipped to disguise the tightness in her throat, her gaze flicking between them despite her best efforts to look disinterested.Against her will, she compared herself—her softer curves, her understated dress—to the woman’s willowy figure and couture perfection.
She told herself it didn’t matter.She told herself she wasn’t competing.
However, the sting was there, low and insistent.
And then—cutting through the tension like a blade—a familiar, deep voice rolled across the space with smooth authority.
“Janice, there you are,” a deep, masculine voice interrupted.
Max Diatras stepped into view, and the shift in the room was instantaneous.His tailored charcoal suit was impeccable, but it wasn’t the expensive cut that drew eyes—it was the dangerous sensation that surrounded the man.There was a quiet, almost lethal authority in the way he moved, a measured calm that hinted at someone used to being obeyed without question.
His gaze swept the scene once, sharp and assessing, before locking on the woman clinging to Rylan.He closed the distance with an unhurried, predatory grace, the kind that didn’t need speed to intimidate.
Without a word, he reached for her arm—not roughly, but with a quiet firmness that made refusal unthinkable.“I’ve been looking for you all evening,” he said, his voice low and deceptively smooth.There was charm in it, yes, but under the surface, a steel edge that promised consequences for wasting his time.
Janice’s smile faltered for half a second before she recovered, her eyes darting between the two men.Recognition flickered—Max Diatras was not a man to trifle with.Her posture shifted, the bold tilt of her chin dimming just enough to betray a sliver of caution.
“Oh… hello, Max!”she said, her tone a shade softer now.“I didn’t realize you’d be here.I was just catching up with Rylan.”
“Of course you were,” Max said, his mouth curling into a smirk that stopped well short of warmth.The faintest edge sharpened his words, as if the politeness cost him effort.His grip on her arm stayed firm as he angled his body toward the bar, forcing her to turn with him.
