Her brow arches, but the tiny flutter beneath the delicate skin of her throat gives her away. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve been circulating for over an hour. There are plenty of hungry women out there, ready to spend a fortune for a night with me.” I lean in closer. “Do you really want that?”
She fidgets with her tablet, but her tone remains calm. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll meet the love of your life tonight. Stranger things have happened.”
I invade even more of her personal space until we’re almost touching. “If I end up with another woman, you’ll pay the price. And you know exactly how.”
For half a heartbeat, desire flashes in her eyes. Then she blinks, shutters it, and shoves me away. “Back off. Someone might see us.”
A handler’s shout carries from the hall, followed by the squeal of a mic check. The reminder of cameras is enough to make her flinch. She slips past me, fleeing from the room before I can stop her.
I drag a hand through my hair as every muscle tightens.
Rina wears her control like a shield, all the while pretending this is just part of her job. As if what happens between us is something she can manage with a press release.
But she’s wrong about that.
Through the curtain gap, I catch a glimpse of her in the crowd. Her shoulders are straight as she orchestrates the people around her like a five-star general. The sight nearly cleaves me in two.
I should hate how easily she’s able to compartmentalize our relationship by forcing me into the dark corners of her life. Instead, I feel this twisted surge of pride that she’s able to keep the whole damn team from going up in flames even when I’m the one lighting the match.
Knox glances over as he buttons his jacket. “Problem, Van Doren?”
“Nope.” My voice comes out rougher than I mean it to. “It’s all good.”
His eyes narrow, as if he doesn’t buy it. Stagehands shout cues, the crowd roars, and applause swells on the other side of the curtain until it’s just static in my ears.
“You ready for this dog and pony show?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I mutter.
The curtain lifts, and whatever’s left of my personal life gets shoved back where it belongs—behind the mask.
11
Rina
The room buzzes with a current of anticipation. Champagne flutes clink, programs are smoothed, and a low murmur of conversation swells as guests search for their tables. I stand with Lilah, Steele, Callie, River, and Evelyn, fighting for composure while every muscle in my body tenses. They all look effortlessly calm, while I force a neutral expression and pray it holds.
River slips his arm around Callie’s waist as his mouth brushes her ear. She melts into him, cheeks warming in a luminous flush. Steele’s hand rests on Lilah’s back, fingers splayed in a quiet claim, as if he’s reminding the world she’s not going anywhere. Watching the two of them feels like catching a glimpse of a private movie I was never meant to see.
I used to think I wanted that kind of certainty—the way two people fit together when they finally stop looking for an exit.
But certainty always comes with a price.
It means handing over trust, and that’s something I’ve never been able to give freely.
My career, sanity, and sense of control have been built on not needing anyone enough to fall apart if they walked away.
And that’s exactly how I like it.
Evelyn stands beside me, a small island of contained sparkle as she sips her champagne and introduces her friend, Miranda. The older woman’s white hair is swept into a sleek bun. Her diamond studs flash every time she turns her head. She’s easily in her seventies, and sharp as a tack.
“I’m going to bid on that handsome young man. I think his name is Oliver,” Miranda says, voice prim and perfectly pitched, like she’s commenting on the weather.
“That’s a wonderful idea.” My lips twitch with a smile I can’t quite hide. “He’s planned an amazing date for the lucky winner.”
I have absolutely no idea what he’s got in mind, but the thought of him sweating under that spotlight gives me a small, guilty thrill.
