Even though I open my mouth, nothing comes out. My throat feels raw and scraped dry. The truth hovers like a confession pressing against my teeth. If anyone stares too hard, they’ll see it written across my face.
I force out a short laugh that sounds strained even to my own ears. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Evelyn studies me for a beat longer before turning back to the frenzy now unfolding at the front of the room. Hugh’s hand settles lightly at her elbow.
Across the table, Zane leans into his mic with an easy smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just in case anyone forgot,” he drawls, “I got engaged. And my new show?—”
A few reporters laugh politely, but the majority ignore him, focused on Oliver’s bombshell. The spotlight that used to feed Zane now burns through him. His voice rises, slick with desperation.
Evelyn mutters, “Zane Holloway is going to talk himself right into a trade if he keeps this up.” She smooths a hand down her blazer. “That stays between you and me for the time being.”
I nod, but the movement feels mechanical as my attention remains fixed on Oliver.
He’s not gloating, and there’s not a shred of smugness in his expression.
What’s left is harder.
More determined and unyielding.
He looks like a man who just staked a claim in front of the world and is daring anyone to challenge him.
Daring me to challenge him.
And God help me, part of me wants to rise to that dare. The other part wants to disappear completely.
The press conference disintegrates into a frenzy as chairs scrape, cameras flash, and voices clamor for a headline and soundbite. Through it all, his gaze stays locked on me.
The air in the room thins.
I can’t breathe in here.
“I need to get back to my office for a call,” I tell Evelyn, already edging toward the door. She barely hears me over the din.
I slip the tablet under my arm and push through the press pack before the crush can close in around me. Even without looking back, I feel the intensity of his gaze. The inevitability of the moment as it presses between my shoulder blades like a physical presence.
The hallway is dimmer, cooler, but the sound continues to linger. It’s a faint roar that trails after me. My hands tremble as I reach for the nearest wall to steady myself.
That’s when I realize it’s only a matter of time before he comes for me.
And when he does, there won’t be anywhere left to hide.
18
Oliver
Gabby hasn’t stopped talking since I picked her up exactly three hours and twenty-nine minutes ago. Something about a new trainer, a corgi puppy, and a resort that doubled her Instagram likes overnight. A stream of consciousness spills from her pink-slicked lips and fades into background noise before I can process it.
My eyes continuously flick to my watch. Every minute drags by. Every conversation with her feels hollow. I count down the seconds until I can drop her off and figure out what I’m going to do about Rina.
Low lighting diffuses every surface, and the hush of moneyed voices settles over the room. Dark wood, starched linens, and the faint burn of whiskey in the air. Jazz curls from the corner, smooth and practiced. The waitstaff glides between tables, doing their best to be efficient and invisible. Everything about this place screams calm, control, composure.
Three things I’m lacking.
Gabby’s laughter bubbles over the rim of her nearly empty martini glass. I nod absently as my attention drifts. The server at our table checks our water before silently stepping away. That’s when movement from the other end of the room catches my attention and my head snaps in that direction.
For a second, I wonder if I’ve conjured her up. I’ve been so damn starved for the sight of her that my mind has created an illusion. But then she steps farther inside the space with Evelyn at her side.
The light from the chandelier slides across Rina’s hair, giving it a rich blue-black sheen that makes everything tighten inside me. The burnt-orange fabric of her dress clings to her in ways that should be illegal, warm autumn color against smooth skin. My pulse stumbles and my hand flexes against the starched white tablecloth.
