Crystal chandeliers hang overhead, scattering reflections that look like diamonds. Everywhere I turn, there are men in tuxedos with eyes like knives, women glittering in dresses that cost more than my education. I grip my clutch, knuckles white, trying to remember every rule my mother ever taught me.
Hudson stays close, but there are moments when the crowd gets too thick, or when my parents pull me from oneconversation to the next, and I lose sight of him. My father’s hand is heavy on my arm, steering me through circles of business partners and rivals, his voice low and polite but always commanding. I smile when I’m told and nod at the right moments. “The Ashford heiress,” they say as I pass, “such a vision.”
If only they knew.
An unfamiliar man approaches. He looks to be the same age as my father, with a thick jaw and thinning hair that’s slicked back. He smiles, but it’s too wide and too white. His eyes never leave my face as my father introduces us. “Ivory, this is Damian Crest. He’s been looking forward to meeting you all evening.”
What. The. Hell.
He holds his hand out, and I reluctantly take it, feeling my skin crawl.
“It’s a pleasure, Ivory. You’re even more beautiful in person than in photographs.” He leans in, and his cologne is so heavy it makes me want to vomit.
I force a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Crest.”
“Please,” he says, his voice syrupy, “call me Damian.” His gaze dips, lingering on the neckline of my dress, then returns to my eyes. “You must be overwhelmed by all these people. Why don’t we find somewhere quieter to talk?”
My father’s fingers dig into my shoulder. “Ivory will be delighted to keep you company. Hudson...” He looks over his shoulder, but he’s nowhere to be found.
My heart slams against my ribs.No. No. NO.The promise he whispered in the elevator…Oh God, I can’t breathe. My vision narrows as I search desperately for his familiar silhouette among the sea of black tuxedos.
Hudson, where the HELL are you?
“He’ll be right back,” I choke out. “We should…”
“Nonsense.”
Damian’s hand finds my back, fingers spreading possessively. He steers me away from safety, each step making my stomach twist tighter. I crane my neck, searching frantically for Hudson and praying he will appear at any moment.
We stop by a vase of towering lilies, where we are hidden from view, Damian leans in until his lips brush my ear. “Your father’s made it clear you’re mine,” Damien groans. “He’s handed you over, just like he promised.” His breath is hot, sour with whiskey. “You better get used to men staring, imagining what’s under that pretty little dress. Wanting to fuck you.” His hand slides down my waist, fingers creeping up until they brush the side of my breast. “Bet some of them would pay a fortune just to get their dick wet in that virgin cunt of yours. That is, after I’ve had my way with you first.”
I freeze.
My mouth goes dry, and I feel like I’m about to vomit.
“Excuse me, I…I need to use the ladies’ room.”
Damian’s smile slips. “Of course, darling. Don’t be long.” His fingers trail down my arm as I practically run away from him. I head for the bathrooms; my breathing is nothing but shallow gasps.
I glance back, thankful Damian isn’t following, but I can feel his eyes clinging to my skin. I search for Hudson, for anyone familiar, but the hallway is empty.
I slip into the bathroom, and lock myself in a stall, pressing my palm flat against my chest. My skin was still burning where Damian touched me. I stand there for a moment, fighting the nausea.
Once I get myself under control, I step out. The bathroom is still empty. I run cold water over my wrists, staring at my reflection; painted eyes, trembling lips, a picture of someone braver than I feel.
As I step out into the hall, something feels off. It’s too quiet, too still. I start walking toward the ballroom, eyes scanning.Where is Hudson? Why isn’t he here?
I hear footsteps behind me, quickly getting closer.
A hand grabs my arm, yanking me back. I open my mouth to scream, but a rough palm clamps over it, muffling the sound. Panic explodes in my chest. I thrash, heels scraping on marble, but the grip is too strong.
Something sharp jabs into my neck, feeling a pinch before the burn. My body goes limp as the world tips sideways.
Black gloves.
Silver watch.
The two things I manage to remember.
