Chapter 10

Orana’s Point of View

The door hadn’t even fully closed behind me when his hand caught it, shoving it back open just enough for him to slip through. My breath stilled as the lock clicked, the sound sharp in the quiet space.

“Why him?”

The question came low, tight, like it had been sitting in his chest too long.

 I stood there, fingers curling around the edge of the sink, staring at my reflection instead. My pulse was still uneven; my lips slightly parted like I’d forgotten how to breathe properly.

“Of all people,” he continued, stepping closer behind me, his presence filling the room without effort, “you chose my rival?”

I saw his gaze in the mirror again.

His eyes were already on me.

“The heart doesn’t choose,” I said quietly. The words felt heavier than they should have; this had nothing to do with my heart.

He stilled for a second, like something in that answer didn’t sit right with him. Then he moved again closer, until I could feel the heat of him at my back, the faint brush of his suit against my bare skin.

“That’s not an answer,” he murmured.

My breath hitched as his hand slid to my waist, fingers pressing just enough to make it clear he wasn’t asking permission. The touch burned through the thin satin fabric.

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” I retorted, meeting his gaze through the mirror

Silence stretched between us, thick and tense.

Then his other hand came up, tilting my chin slightly, turning my face just enough to make me face him, and suddenly, he was too close.

“I missed you, spitfire,” he said, like a confession he didn’t want to admit to.

His gaze dropped to my lips, and before I could react, he leaned in.

The first brush of his mouth against mine wasn’t rough; it was like he was testing something. Like I could easily give in.

My body betrayed me, my breath caught, my fingers tightening against the sink as something sparked low in my chest. something I had buried, something I had promised myself I would never feel again.

His hand shifted, slowly his Fingers grazing the slit of my dress, brushing against my thigh, the touch featherlight. My skin reacted before my mind could catch up, heat blooming where his fingers traced, where his grip threatened to tighten.

For a second, I just let myself lean into it, let my eyes flutter shut.

Thinking of him and how he would always make me feel good, and how the last time he made love to me, he left me in bed and rushed off to an important meeting. The consequence of that night was the reason for our divorce.

“I don’t want it. Get rid of it,” the words echoed again.

My eyes snapped open, heart throbbing as I shoved him back so Hard.

I turned around and slapped him hard across the face. The sound of the slap echoed in the bathroom louder than it should have in the small space, my palm stinging as his head snapped slightly to the side.

For a moment, neither of us moved, my chest rising and falling, as I ground my teeth together. He thought he could have his way with me. treat me like I was nothing?

His cheek flushed, his jaw tightened, but he didn’t touch it. Didn’t react the way I expected him to.

He just looked at me; something flickered across his face. Regret? Remorse?

“Stay away from me,” I said, my voice shaking just enough to betray the storm inside me.

I didn’t wait for him to answer, I just turned and walked out, my steps quick and clumsy.

The noise of the party hit me just as I walked into the room, voices and laughter crashing into the silence I’d just left behind. I forced my breathing to steady as I scanned the room, looking for Vuaghn. I needed him.

He stood near the bar, speaking with a man in a tailored suit, his posture relaxed but his expression as unreadable as ever. The man was saying something to him, and he seemed to be listening, but I saw that little line between his brows.

He slightly shifted his posture, and the moment my eyes landed on him, something in me settled.

He frowned slightly. His eyes are trailing down my body.

I smiled at him, then I walked straight toward him. It was easy with him.

His gaze shifted before I even reached him, like he felt me coming. It flicked over my face quickly, probably assessing me, but I didn’t care.

I got closer to him, and then his hand came to my waist. Like it belonged there.

The contact made my heart race as his thumb kept pressing lightly against my side as he turned slightly toward me.

“There you are,” he said, his tone even, but there was something beneath it, something rougher. Possessiveness? Jealous?

“This is Orana,” he added, nodding toward the man beside him. “The one I told you about.”

The investor smiled, extending his hand, but I barely registered his name. I returned the greeting automatically, my expression carefully composed.

“Orana, this is Corvin Miller.”

Corvin Miller? The Senator’s son-in-law?

I glanced at Vaughn, and his hand gently brushed my back, which should have been awkward, but it didn’t. Instead, I was reminded of Callahan’s touch.

The ghost of it lingering on my skin in a way I hated, I straightened slightly, forcing the thought away.

Never again.

Vaughn’s hand didn’t leave my waist the entire time. If anything, it tightened slightly when someone passed too close behind me, his body angling just enough to block them.

And strangely, it was comforting. Even in the chaos, I felt like I was home after a long day.

After an hour, he glanced down at me briefly. “I need to speak to Corvin.”

There was a pause, like he was weighing something. But I noticed that Callahan had managed to stay away from me.

“You’ll be fine?” he asked.

I nodded, offering a small smile. “I’ll be fine.”

His eyes lingered for a second, like he didn’t fully believe me. But then he gave a short nod and stepped away, his hand sliding from my waist slowly.

I missed it the second it had left my waist.

I exhaled quietly, reaching for a glass from a passing tray, the cool surface grounding in my hand. I had never gone to such parties with my father because I was underage, and when I was finally the right age. I was married off already to a man who never wanted me to accompany him. But with Vaughn? It was completely different. It’s like he wanted to show me off, like I was worth something.

“Well, well.”

I froze, then I turned slowly.

Marissa stood there, her smile sharp, eyes gleaming with something that wasn’t even close to friendly. She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering just long enough to make the insult clear.

“You really outdid yourself this time,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Vaughn Carson, of all people.”

I didn’t respond; I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but she stepped closer anyway, lowering her voice just enough.

“Tell me,” She continued, her lips curving, “is it talent? The way you keep finding rich men to attach yourself to?”

The words slid under my skin, but I didn’t flinch. I’d learned better than that. I came from money. I didn’t need to attach myself to any man, but then I also ruined my father’s contract with Callahan’s father.

“Marissa.”

We both turned to face the rough voice that had just come behind us.

Callahan.

He stepped up beside her, his expression cold in a way I hadn’t seen directed at her before. Not once. Not in all the years I had known them.

“Control yourself,” he said, his voice low but sharp enough to cut.

Marissa blinked, clearly caught off guard.

And so was I.

Because Callahan had never spoken to her like that. Something shifted in my chest, but I pushed it down just as quickly.