I lower my glass, leaning in slightly. “You want me in your corner,” I say, almost in amusement, “you’re going to have to work for it.”
Abraham doesn’t flinch. His smile only grows. “The best things don’t come easy, Lukin. Hit me.”
“Not here, let’s not be rude now. This is an art gala.”
“I can come to your office,” he says, unable to hide his excitement. “I’ve been dying to.”
I dip my hand into my breast pocket and take out my card. “You won’t be let in without one of these.”
“Thank you, Lukin.” He slides the card into his pocket. “You won’t regret this.”
“I hope so.”
As he disappears, Nadia groans beside me. “This is boring,” she says. “I need a drink.”
“Go get one.”
She frowns up at me before yanking her arm away from mine and marching towards the bar. I watch her go, wondering why I even decided to bring her with me. As she goes, my gaze lifts to the section of the hall near the bar where a flicker of movement catches my attention.
My gaze sharpens, my instincts kicking in. There’s a woman laughing, her voice rising above the noise.
Familiar posture. Familiar dress sense. Familiar curves.
It takes less than a second for my brain to recognize her.
Zoe.
I can’t breathe. My chest tightens as my eyes lock on to her.
She looks different—her hair styled differently, softer, framed around her face—but it’s unmistakably her. Even from across the room, she still draws me in, like she always has. There’s a fire in her that I can’t ignore, that I can’t escape.
She doesn’t notice me yet, doesn’t realize I’m watching her, studying every move she makes. She’s too caught up in whatever conversation she’s having with the people around her, too immersed in her own world to see that I’m here, that I’m aware.
For the first time in weeks, my blood doesn’t feel cold.
The tightness in my chest eases just a little. Nah. I’ve just realized it now. She belongs with me. To me.
Suddenly, Jason appears beside her, his hand touching her lower back possessively. My breath almost stops. Of course, he’s the rich kid. He’s the one who invited her here. Fucking jerk. She raises her head to whisper something in Jason’s ear and the bastard laughs so loud, his arm tightens around her. She’s laughing too. What in the hell could be that funny?
The ease in my body is replaced by something else—a primal, possessive instinct that has been building inside me since the moment I saw her in that photo with Jason. She’s here now. She’s in front of me, and every part of me wants to step forward, to pull her away from him and make her understand what she’s doing.
But I don’t move. I stay rooted to the spot, watching as she smiles, unaware of the storm brewing inside me.
She’s mine. I’ve already claimed her, whether she knows it or not.
And the last time she was with me, I told her to never cross paths with me again because I wouldn’t let her go again. I guess she isn’t a very good listener.
Her eyes suddenly lift, and for a moment, everything else in the room fades. Our gazes lock, and it’s like time slows. The space between us narrows, charged with something neither of us can ignore.
The second she sees me, her body freezes. Her smile falters, then dies completely. She pales, the color draining from her face, and for the briefest of moments, she looks like a deer caught in the headlights—like she didn’t expect to see me, like she didn’t expect me to be here.
I don’t move. I don’t speak. I just watch her, savoring the shift in her body language.
Slowly, deliberately, I cock my head to the side, letting her feel the weight of my gaze. She can’t escape it. I know she can’t.
And then, I grin. A lazy, dark grin that stretches across my face, full of warning, full of something possessive that only I can understand. It’s the kind of smile that says I know you, Zoe. I know everything about you.
She steps back, as if I’ve physically struck her, the shock of my presence hitting her like a blow. She stumbles slightly, knocking into Jason, who stands beside her, utterly confused.
