I hesitated. Then slowly turned in place, letting him see the full dress, low at the back, hugging every line the way the heels demanded.
When I faced him again, his expression hadn’t changed. But his eyes had darkened. He stood without a word and pulled out a chair. Beside him.
I stepped toward it, pausing for a moment as he held the chair steady.
“You look…” he paused, exhaled slowly and nodded for me to sit instead. If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was lost for words.
I sat down, but I noticed as he moved to sit beside me, he was nervous. It was subtle. The slight adjustment of his cuffs. The pause before he reached for his glass.
Vincent Crow was nervous. He didn’t know what to do.
But I did. That was what dynasties trained daughters for, knowing what to say, when to say it, how to make people comfortable. Even Crows.
“My earring,” I said softly, lifting a hand to my hair. “It’s caught. Would you…?”
A few strands of hair were tied up on the clasp.
He nodded before I could finish. Leaning in, he reached up careful. His touch wasn’t rushed. As if he didn’t want to hurt me.
“How was your day?” I asked, breaking the quiet.
He let out a low breath, still focused on my hair. “A fucking nightmare.”
That surprised me. Most men in our world would’ve deflected. Said it was fine. Shifted the topic. But he didn’t.
“Oh?”
He freed a few strands, tucked it behind my ear. “Casino chaos. A shipment rerouted without notice. Syndicate miscommunication. I spent two hours arguing with someone who thinks lighting cigars with century notes is impressive.”
I did not expect that. Why did this man continue to surprise me.
“You didn’t have to tell me all that.”
“I didn’t want to lie to you.”
That landed harder than he probably realized. I reached out, resting my hand lightly on his thigh beneath the table. Just for a second.
He stilled, then his eyes dropped, once, from my hand to the line of my leg, then back up again.
“Can I…” he cleared his throat. “Can I take it off?”
“What?”
“Your—your earring. It’s still, stuck.”
I smiled. “Sure.”
He leaned in again.
“You’re a bit nervous,” I said lightly.
He chuckled under his breath. “Apparently.”
“A nervous Crow. That’s rare.”
“A beautiful woman in black satin and wearing heels I bought is rarer.” He placed the earring down.
“Can you take this one out too?” I gestured to the other side. “I hate uneven things. Makes me feel off-balance.”
