“I saw this at the market this morning,” he says,offering it to me. “Gemma mentioned you like crystals.”
A palm-size cluster of green fluorite. Its facets jut from the stone like ice. Light glides across the translucent edges, catching in pale sea-glass depths that shift between sage green and teal. Along its base, tiny crystals glitter like frost. It feels both fragile and indestructible, a secret the earth revealed in slow angles.
“It’s raw. Not heat-treated,” I say, smoothing my thumb over the uneven facets. “That makes it way better for enhancing mental clarity and focus…activating the third eye. Basically all the things that help open the mind.”
“You know your crystals.” His wide mouth tips in a smile.
I shrug, but of course I know my stuff. Wouldn’t a knight thoroughly check their armor before going into battle?
“And I know,” he continues, “that most things are more powerful when they haven’t been altered.”
I thought Alder would be more sinister, a stick-up-his-ass domineering overlord with a chiseled jaw and a god complex. Instead, he’s charming and thoughtful and disarmingly sweet. For a second, I forget that I hate him.
Then I remember the last time Gemma called me snot crying because he’d tried to convince her that therapy was “self-indulgent” and that she should try being grateful instead of feeling sorry for herself. Andbam, my clarity returns.
Still, I tuck the gift into my purse. I’m not a monster.
“Yes, well,” I begin, clearing my throat. “It’s nice to finally see…how tall you are in person.”
Totally normal thing to say. I want to throw myselfdirectly in front of the nearest cab.
Instead, I move to down another sip of my tragically lukewarm green juice when Alder smoothly links his arm through mine.
“Shall we?” he says, and before I can reply, he sweeps me past security and inside the old Midtown hotel.
We follow a steady stream of black-tie guests through the marble foyer, past a gleaming concierge desk, and straight through a pair of doors into the ballroom. The ceiling sparkles with faux constellations—tiny LED stars pulsing in time with the ambient music, casting soft glimmers over the crowd. Silk drapes cascade down the walls in long, shimmery waves, pooling on the marble floors like spilled moonlight. Laughter and soft chatter sweep through the space as cater waiters in cream tuxedo jackets float by with trays of apps.
Everywhere I look, it’s silk, silver, and crystal. The kind of space designed to make people feel important and vaguely immortal. I, on the other hand, feel like I wandered in from a different timeline. One where I still use coupons and haven’t ever figured out if I’m filing my taxes correctly.
I’m scanning the room for Gemma when I realize Alder has been talking.
“There are many aspects of my past I need to explain,” he says, his voice low and serious.
My fingers stick to my green juice bottle, whiffs of wheatgrass rising from the sloshing liquid.
“I was—”
“An insufferable twat.”
He snorts.
Shit. Said that very inside thought out loud. Well,it’s not the first time, and it definitely won’t be the last.
“Precisely.” He flashes a grin so devastatingly charming that, despite myself, I smile back. Damn him.
The crowd shifts, and I finally spot Gemma in a backless emerald-green gown, her honey-blond hair swept to one side and held in place with a glimmering silver and sapphire clip.
She lookshappy. Radiant in a way that can’t be faked. At least, not without a bank account with more commas than mine.
She holds up her hands and lifts onto her toes as we get closer. “Amanda! I am so happy you’re here!”
I smile, because that’s what you do when your best friend says they’re happy you’ve arrived. But in the back of my mind, Declan’s “OFFLINE” is blinking like a low-battery warning. I wonder if I’d look as happy as she does if I had someone I wasn’t terrified of scaring off.
My phone stays heavy in my hand, screen dark, no new messages.
But that’s fine.
I’m fine.
