"You can do that later. Right now, we need to focus on making the right impressions with the right people." He's already heading for the door, assuming I'll follow. "Edgar said Blackwood is considering donors to the business school. If I can get in his good graces, it could be very beneficial for the firm."
I grab my clutch and follow him out, feeling like an accessory. Like something he's bringing along to complete his outfit.
The gala is being held in the university's historic ballroom—a beautiful space with high ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and tall windows overlooking the campus. When we arrive, it's already filling with people: professors in their best academic formal wear, graduate students dressed up and excited, university administrators working the room. Thad immediately spots Dean Blackwood and steers me in that direction.
"Thaddeus Whitmore," he says, extending his hand. "This is my fiancée, Savannah Beauregard. She's a graduate student in the archaeology program."
"Ah, yes." Dean Blackwood shakes my hand perfunctorily before turning his attention back to Thad. "What can I help you with? Are you interested in a program yourself?”
And just like that, I'm dismissed. They launch into a conversation about business and potential donations, opportunities for collaboration between the university and the Whitmore and Beauregard families. I see Dean Blackwood look at me with interest once, when he finds out what my last name stands for, when previously I was all but dismissed when I was just another archaeology student. I stand there smiling politely, saying nothing, feeling invisible.
This is my future. Standing beside Thad at events, being introduced as Edgar Beauregard's daughter or Thaddeus Whitmore's wife, never as Savannah the archaeologist, Savannah the scholar, Savannah the person with her own identity and ambitions.
It feels suffocating. I don’t know how I ever thought I could do this.
"Excuse me," I murmur, but neither of them notices as I slip away.
I find Vivian near the refreshment table, and she pulls me into a hug.
"You look amazing!" she says. "That dress is perfect on you."
"Thanks. You look great, too."
"Is that Thad?" She nods toward where my fiancé is still deep in conversation with the dean. "He's very... focused."
"That's one word for it."
"Are you okay? You seem—" She looks at me with a hint of concern, and I shake my head.
"I'm fine. Just tired. It's been a long week."
She doesn't look convinced, but before she can press further, Dr. Kouris appears.
"Savannah! I'm so glad you could make it. And I wanted to tell you—your work on the Minoan project has been exceptional. You and Mr. Ciresa make an excellent team."
At the mention of Romeo's name, my heart skips. "Thank you. It's been a really interesting project."
"He's here somewhere, actually. I saw him earlier—Ah, there he is."
She gestures across the room, and I follow her gaze.
Romeo is standing near one of the tall windows, looking devastatingly handsome in a black suit that fits him perfectly. He's talking to another professor, but even from across theroom, I can feel the intensity of his presence, the way people are drawn to him.
As if sensing my attention, he looks up. Our eyes meet across the crowded ballroom, and the world narrows to just that connection, that electric current that runs between us, that pull I've been trying so hard to resist.
He says something to the professor he's with, then starts moving through the crowd. Toward me.
My heart is racing. I should walk away. I should go back to Thad. I should?—
"Savannah." He’s there before I can make up my mind. His voice is low, intimate, meant only for me. "You look beautiful."
Not "That's what you're wearing?" Not criticism or judgment. Just a simple, genuine compliment that makes me want to cry, because I know I can’t have this. Not for any length of time, and certainly not forever.
I manage to keep my composure, smiling at him. It feels brittle on my face. "Thank you. You clean up well yourself."
His eyes sweep over my face, and I see them narrow slightly. "Dance with me."
It's not a question. It's a request, but there's something in his eyes—a plea, a need—that makes it feel impossible to refuse. But I try, because Thad is here, and if he sees us…
