20
PHOENIX
Jade emerges from the guest house, and the sight of her hits me like a fist to the chest. The dress I sent over, deep emerald silk that clings to every curve before cascading to the floor, transforms her into something otherworldly. Her dark hair, almost black in this light, falls in loose waves over one shoulder, exposing the delicate column of her throat. Her skin is luminous against the jewel tone, all cream and shadow. The diamond studs I left on her vanity catch the fading sunlight, throwing tiny sparks of fire near her jawline.
She didn't have to wear them.
But she did.
I take my time looking at her, letting my gaze drag from the plunging neckline to the slit that reveals a tantalizing glimpse of thigh with each step. Her lips are painted a deep berry red:bold, defiant, the color of crushed roses and spilled wine. Her dark eyes meet mine, lined with something smoky that makes them look enormous, depthless, full of secrets.
She's not beautiful.
Beautiful is too small a word.
She's devastating.
"You're staring," she says.
"I'll stare as long as I want." I close the distance between us, letting my hand settle on the curve of her waist. The silk is cool under my palm, but I can feel the heat of her body beneath it. "You're mine. That means I get to look."
Something flickers in her eyes, resistance, maybe, or that stubborn independence that drives me insane. But she doesn't pull away.
"The dress is beautiful," she says quietly.
"You'rebeautiful." I lean closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. "The dress is just wrapping paper."
Her breath catches. Just barely and just enough to satisfy me.
"We should go," she says. "Don't want to be late."
I pull back and offer her my arm. "Let's go make them jealous.”
The restaurant isthe kind of place that doesn't need a sign. If you don't already know where it is, you can't afford to eat there. Private rooms, discrete staff, extensive wine lists. Marcus arranged everything—the venue, the guest list, the careful choreography designed to separate investors from their money.
All I had to do was bring Jade and my charm.
And God, did I deliver.
She walks into the private dining room on my arm, and I watch every head turn. The men try to be subtle about it—quick glances, appreciative nods in my direction. The women are more obvious, their eyes raking over her dress, her jewelry, her effortless composure with a mixture of admiration and envy.
That's right, I think.Look at her. And know that she's mine.
We're seated at the head of a long table draped in white linen. Crystal glasses catch the candlelight. Twelve investors and their wives fill the remaining seats, a carefully curated mix of old money and new ambition. Marcus takes his position at my right, already working the room with his easy charm.
Jade sits at my left, her posture perfect, her smile warm but reserved. She looks like she was born to be here. Like she's been attending dinners like this her entire life.
No one would ever guess she was drowning in debt a month ago.
The thought sends a dark thrill through me. The woman I plucked from obscurity and polished into this glittering creature who has every man in the room wishing he were me.
"So how did you two meet?" Ellen Teo leans forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. Her husband Richard is our biggest potential investor—the lynchpin of the entire deal.
I open my mouth to deliver the rehearsed story, but Jade speaks first.
"He swept me off my feet," she says, her dark eyes finding mine. "Quite literally. I wasn't looking for anyone, wasn't expecting anything. And then Phoenix appeared, and everything changed."
It's not a lie. Not exactly.
