"Not just worked," Darius answers before I can open my mouth. Seems like everyone is speaking for me today. "She was one of my senior executives. Invaluable and indispensable. In fact, it was because of her that my attention was drawn to your charming town, since she chose to… relocate here."
Damn him.
Lydia's gaze sharpens, surprise slipping past her practiced mask. "I see. A senior executive. And yet, you quit the job if I understand correctly?"
One of the women leans in, curiosity gleaming. "What brought you here? Was it the marriage?"
Another one chimes in, smiling, "Did you move to Briar Hollow for love? That is so romantic."
I force a smile, throat tight. "You could say that."
The tension hums through our group like static. Darius, of course, looks perfectly at ease. Lydia's circle, meanwhile, watches me like hawks scenting weakness.
"Are you planning to work for Mr. Hawthorn again?" Lydia presses. "We could use someone local who's left such animpression on him." She turns her gaze to Donna, reproachful. "You didn't mention you had such a talented friend, my dear."
Donna flicks a panicked look between us, like a deer caught in headlights. "It was… sudden," she manages.
"I intend to recruit her back," Darius adds smoothly. "If I can persuade her to leave her current barmaid position at Mr. Cole's establishment." His nod toward Winston is deliberate.
Lydia and her ladies blink, visibly taken aback. Their expressions say it all—Hawthorn Industries VIP turned Briar Hollow barmaid. I can practically hear the gossip machine churning, their hunger for the story sparking right in front of me.
"Oh, you should join our club," one woman pipes up eagerly. "We call it knitting, but it's more about making acquaintances. And Sunday drinks—"
Before she can finish, Lydia cuts her off with a sharp look. Clearly the invite was hers to extend, not anyone else's.
"It would be a pleasure to have someone with your experience join us," Lydia says smoothly, then tilts her head, eyes narrowing. "Quinn… Quinn…" She taps her glass thoughtfully. "Are you related to John and Samantha Quinn, by any chance? You bear a resemblance."
My jaw nearly drops. My parents.
"I make it my business to know important families," she continues. "I could swear I've seen you before." She points, her eyes lighting with triumph. "Sabrina Quinn?"
For a beat I can't speak. My mind stutters.
If she's seen photos… it would have to be years ago. Her memory is uncanny.
My group stares at me. I stare at Lydia. The moment stretches into eternity, until Darius steps in.
"You are well acquainted indeed, Mrs. Bright. I am impressed," he says smoothly, all charm. It works. The spotlightshifts off me and back onto him. "Sabrina—though she prefers Sage now, there's a long story there—spent years with Hawthorn Industries. Interning, then rising quickly. She traveled overseas, sacrificed family time, dedicated herself fully. John and Samantha are, of course, very proud of her."
The bastard.
Though he just saved me from Lydia's scrutiny. He knows it, too. Their curiosity isn't gone as too many gaps remain, but at least the fire's not burning directly at me anymore.
I risk a glance at Asher. His eyes narrow with silent questions I can't answer yet. I shake my head slightly:later. Another story to tell. Another disappointment waiting. I don't even look at Kayden. I can already imagine the storm gathering in his gaze.
The music shifts, soft strings swelling as couples drift toward the polished dance floor. Darius seizes the moment.
"Mrs. Bright, perhaps we save the photos for after socializing?" he suggests, voice velvet.
"Oh, of course, Mr. Hawthorn," Lydia agrees instantly, her earlier impatience washed away. She wouldn't dare object to him.
Then he turns to me.
"If I may, Mrs. Darrow…" His smile curves. "A dance. For old time's sake. I must insist."
My stomach twists hard. Beside me, Kayden stiffens, ready to bare his fangs and end this charade in blood and broken glass.
I catch his arm, eyes pleading.Careful. Not here.
