“If it gets uncomfortable,” I say, “we leave?”
“Immediately.”
“Then yes.”
I didn’t feel cornered into agreeing. That alone tells me how far we’ve come.
The ride to the dinner is short. Comfortable. We talk about work, about nothing.
When he catches me looking at him, his smile turns slow and knowing.
“You keep looking at me like that,” he says, “and we’re not going to make it inside.”
“We’re already here,” I tell him as the valet steps forward.
His eyes darken. “Later, then.”
He takes my hand and settles it into the crook of his arm.
I draw in a breath.
Then we walk inside.
Chapter Forty-Two
AUDRA
By the timewe enter the room, it’s already clear.
We move together like this isn’t new.
Like our bodies learned the rhythm before our heads caught up.
His hand rests at my lower back—light, possessive without being territorial. I lean into it deliberately.
The room is elegant. Restrained. Filled with people who measure everything.
He doesn’t.
Not with me.
The hostess greets us by name. He thanks her, pulls my chair out, waits until I’m settled before taking his own seat.
It’s seamless. Familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten.
I catch him watching me more than once.
Not scanning the room. Not performing.
Watching me.
Not possession. Attention. I can work with that.
I cross my legs slowly, deliberately. His gaze drops. Lingers. Returns to my face.
If I’m going to be seen, it will be on my terms.
Conversation flows around us—business, polite laughter, names I half-remember.
