THE WARNING
EMMA
The gala is everythinga celebration for the rich and powerful should be.
Crystal chandeliers scatter light across the ballroom like captured stars. A jazz quartet plays something smooth in the corner. Silverpoint's elite mingle in designer gowns and tailored suits, champagne flutes catching the light as they toast to ELK's success and the federal grant it secured for the city.
Kai hasn't left my side all night.
“Emma Sinclair,” he says, guiding me toward a silver-haired woman in sapphire blue, “this is Councilwoman Rivera. She was instrumental in pushing the vote through.”
The councilwoman's handshake is firm, smile genuine. “Mr. Rhodes gives me too much credit. The proposal sold itself—and secured us a federal clean energy grant in the process.” She raises her glass slightly. “Tens of millions for Silverpoint's infrastructure. The council had every reason to say yes.” Her eyes shift to me. “Though I hear the community campaign was your doing. The parents at Ravenwood couldn't stop talking about ELK's commitment to the schools.”
“That was the goal,” I say. “Technology should serve people, not the other way around.”
“Well said.” She raises her glass higher. “To many more collaborations.”
This is how the evening goes. Kai introduces me to council members, journalists, tech executives. Each time, he calls me “the brilliant mind behind our campaign” or “the reason we're all here tonight.” Each time, I see the pride in his eyes, feel the warmth of his hand on my back.
Logan appears with fresh champagne. “Sin, you're a hit. I've had three people ask me how to poach you from GVM.”
“Tell them she's not available,” Kai says, arm tightening around my waist.
“Possessive much?” I tease.
“Absolutely.”
Ethan joins us, nods toward the dance floor where a few couples sway to the music. “You two should dance. Give the photographers something to capture.”
Kai glances at his ankle, still not fully healed. “I'm not exactly light on my feet right now.”
I take his hand. “We can sway. Gently.”
We reach the edge of the dance floor. We don't really dance. Just hold each other, move in small circles. His hand splays across my lower back. My head rests against his shoulder.
“Thank you,” he murmurs into my hair.
“For what?”
“For being here. For being you.” He pulls back enough to look at me. “For choosing me.”
“Always,” I say, and mean it.
He kisses me softly, right there on the dance floor. I don't care who's watching. Let them see. Let them know I'm his and he's mine.
When the song ends, I excuse myself to freshen up. Kai's hand lingers on mine before letting go.
“Don't be long,” he says.
“Miss me already?”
“Always.”
I'm smiling as I cross the ballroom, still floating on the high of the evening. The restroom is a sanctuary of marble and soft lighting. Empty except for the faint scent of jasmine from the floral arrangements.
I study my reflection. Flushed cheeks. Bright eyes. The most beautiful dress I've ever worn, emerald silk that makes me feel like someone who belongs in rooms like this.
I look happy. I look like I belong.
