But she carried herself like someone who’d bled for every inch of ground she stood on.
She didn’t demand attention.
She disrupted it.
And they noticed. The men with their curated charm, their expensive watches and hollow smiles.
They watched her.
Some with curiosity. Some with calculation.
Some with hunger.
Fools.
They didn’t see it.
But he already did.
She was silk over steel. A blade beneath the curve of a smile.
He lingered, unseen, watching the tension in her shoulders.
The way she scanned the room. Not to be admired, but to understand.
To read the power lines. To find the cracks.
She wasn’t pretending. She was preparing.
And he needed to learn her.
Then Gideon Blackwell appeared.
His chest tightened.
He recognized his power. Tailored. Weaponized.
Blackwell didn’t just walk into a room. He took ownership of it.
But that wasn’t what made his teeth clench.
It was the way Blackwell looked at her—a mystery worth solving.
A prize worth keeping.
Worse. She looked back.
Not with awe. Not with flirtation.
With challenge.
Gideon leaned in, said something too low to catch.
She answered. Steady. Unflinching. Unimpressed.
Blackwell thought he could have her. Claim her.
His hands curled into fists.
