"Alexander?" she says, her voice light.
The man strides toward us and extends his hand. When Ceci offers hers, he doesn't shake it—he bows slightly and brushes a kiss across her knuckles. It’s a classic move, and overly familiar. I tighten my arm around her, pulling her closer, my hand spreading firm over her waist. His eyes drop to the gesture.
"Colin Montgomery. Ceci’s husband," I say, my tone even, though the underlying edge is there.
He clasps my hand. His grip is steady, no unnecessary force, none of the typical posturing men use to prove themselves. "Alexander Santoro," he replies, amusement glinting in his eyes.
The name clicks. "Santoro… as in the marble empire?"
"One and the same," he says with a trace of pride. Santoro Marmo. Italian, global leaders in extraction and design. Not a name you forget in my circles.
I glance at Ceci, then back at him. "How do you two know each other?" I ask, directing the question at the space between them, waiting to see who claims the answer first.
Still smiling, Ceci speaks up. "From the Hamptons. He’s the neighbor who brought us the fish, and who has the adorable dog, Sam, that Alicia fell in love with." She turns back to him. "Thank you again, the kids loved it. I didn't get a chance to thank you properly before."
"The pleasure was all mine," Alexander replies, his gaze locked firmly on her. He doesn't even spare me a glance.
I study him more closely. He isn't the sixty-year-old man I’d assumed lived in that house. Not even close.
Across the room, Nate Taylor, one of my company’s oldest investors, waves at me. I have to swallow a surge of irritation, forcing my jaw not to clench. Now? Of all times?
"I need to have a quick word with Nate," I say, already hating that I’m giving Santoro even a minute alone with my wife.
"Of course," Ceci says, distractedly. But she stays where she is. The fact that she doesn't automatically come with me twists something in my chest.
I squeeze Santoro’s hand once more, harder this time, and brush a kiss against the corner of Ceci’s mouth before steppingaway. The gesture is deliberate. A warning. But it doesn't ease the crawling sensation beneath my skin.
While Nate drones on about quarterly reports and new acquisitions, my attention splinters. My eyes keep dragging back to Ceci and Santoro. They are standing too close. My throat tightens with a pressure I can’t swallow down. What could they be saying that holds her interest for this long?
I register every detail of him. The dark hair, the broad shoulders filling out his black suit, the two or three inches of height he has on me, the neatly trimmed beard that gives him that polished, studied edge. I breathe out through my nose, unimpressed.
He looks like nothing more than a man who treats boardrooms like stages. And no matter how effortlessly he smiles at Ceci, or how naturally she returns it… he doesn’t stand a chance.
Still, my chest only loosens when I see her finally step away and make her way back to me. It hasn't even been five minutes, though it felt like twenty. Relief crashes through me. The moment she’s within reach, I slide my hand firmly around her waist, grounding myself in the feel of her beside me.
Exactly where she belongs.
The moment Nate finally stops talking and we resume our walk through the ballroom, I glance at Ceci. My voice is steady, but I can't quite keep the edge from slipping into the question. "What were you two talking about for so long? I didn't know you knew him. I thought the neighbor was someone else."
"Colin, please. No jealousy," Ceci replies, her tone clipped, carrying a trace of impatience. "He only asked about the kids, and I asked how he was, out of politeness. I had no way of knowing who he is in the corporate world; that's not my area of expertise."
I dip my head to brush my nose against her hair, breathing her in. The familiar scent steadies me, softening the tension coiled in my chest. "You're right," I say, and for a moment, I actually believe it. "I'm sorry." I press a light kiss to her forehead, a gesture that should feel like second nature. "Come on, shall we go to our table? Dinner's about to be served."
For the rest of the night, Ceci stays subdued. Her smiles are faint, her laughter absent. And every time I glance her way, I catch that bastard Santoro watching her. He’s subtle about it, but I notice.
A little while after the auction, I join a group of investors I’ve been trying to connect with, nursing a drink at one of the bars. Ceci stays with Felicity and Harper. It feels safe enough, until I feel a light touch on my arm.
"Oliver and Felicity are heading home. I'm going to get a ride with them. I have a headache that just won't go away."
So that's why she's been off all night. Relief and frustration war in me. I lift my hand to her temple, rubbing gently with my thumb. "You should've told me earlier, baby. I'll wrap things up quickly and we can leave together, all right?"
She shakes her head, her voice soft but firm. "No. You stay and take all the time you need until one of them bites your bait. I know these dinners are opportunities for you." She rises onher toes, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to take something for it and go straight to bed."
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Before I can protest, she’s already turning away. I watch her cross the room, my chest tightening as she heads for the entrance.
Then I see him. Santoro.
Moving in the same direction.
