I nodded. “It’s perfect. Enjoy the view.”
Then, without another word, I strode into the ballroom, where far more dangerous games awaited.
The moment I caught a glimpse of her, my world tilted.
Red hair.
My heart thundered.
Even with the mask obscuring her face, even with the dim candlelight shifting over the curves of her body, I knew.
Olivia.
Every cell in my body ignited. I ached to touch her, to hold her, to reclaim her.
But then?—
I saw the man beside her.
My steps halted, and my breath caught.
Something familiar about him was tearing at the edge of my memory.
Who was he? Where had I seen him before?
Whoever he was, he was too close to her.
His lips ghosted along her jawline, his hand possessively placed at the curve of her back.
Jealousy coiled in my gut, violent and unforgiving.
I watched her carefully, studying every nuance.
She played along, smiling and laughing, but her movements were hesitant and her posture stiff.
But then?—
She laughed and trailed her fingers along his neck.
Something inside me snapped.
Had she given up on me? Had she moved on?
My mind rebelled against the thought. No. Impossible.
She was mine.
She had always been mine.
And yet, this bastard—this dark-haired stranger—was touching her, kissing her, acting as though he had some claim over what belonged to me.
A low growl rumbled from my throat.
Who the hell was he?
I knew him. I had seen him before. But where?
Then—
