Chapter Eight:

Aurora's POV

"What was that?"

Damien does not wait until we are fully out of earshot before he says it. His hand is still wrapped around my elbow, too tight to pass for affection now. He pulls me into a side corridor just off the main hall and turns me toward him with a smile still fixed on his face for anyone who might be watching.

"I was talking," I say. "To Sebastian Reed?" His voice stays low, but the pressure in it sharpens. "And my father's guests? And Vincent Reed?" He gives a short laugh that does not sound like laughter at all. "Aurora, what exactly are you doing tonight?"

For one second, I almost tell him the truth.

Watching you panic is becoming one of my favorite things.

Instead, I tilt my head and keep my voice even. "You brought me here to make an impression. I thought I was helping."

His jaw tightens. That lands exactly where I wanted it to. "You don't help by turning a simple dinner into a scene." "A scene?" I repeat softly. "I asked a question."

"You asked the wrong people the wrong questions." There it is, not anger. Fear. Small. Controlled. Trying hard not to show itself. But it is there, moving behind his eyes fast enough to make my own pulse lift.

I pushed too hard at the table. I know that now.

Vincent reacted. Sebastian saw it. Damien saw both. For one careless second, I let my anger lead instead of my head. My first real mistake of the night.

I should feel ashamed of it.

Instead, I feel alive.

Megan's heels click against the floor before she appears. Of course, she was close enough to catch the fallout. She comes around the corner wearing concern like it was tailored for her.

"There you are," she says brightly, then looks between us and lets her smile soften into something gentler. "Is everything okay?"

Damien steps back just enough to make his hand on my elbow look accidental. "Fine."

Megan's eyes slide to me. "You don't look fine, sister." I hold her gaze. "Then maybe stop looking at me like you hope I fall apart." That wipes the sweetness off her face for half a second. Small victory. Worth it.

Then she recovers. "I was worried about you." "No, you weren't."

Damien exhales sharply. "Enough."

His voice makes the corridor go still.

For one strange second, the three of us stand there with all the masks hanging slightly crooked. Damien is trying to get control back. Megan is trying to smooth over the crack. I am standing in the middle of both of them, no longer willing to make myself smaller so their lies can fit comfortably around me.

Then Damien's phone buzzes. He checks the screen and curses under his breath. "My father wants me back in the main hall."

Megan lifts her brows. "Investors?"

He nods once.

Then he turns to me, and the softness comes back. Too fast. Too practiced. "Stay here for a minute. Fix your face. And when you come back out, smile." I look at him; he hears it the second the silence stretches too long.

"What?" he asks.

I smile. Slow. Polite. "You say that like I work for you."

His expression hardens before he catches it. "Aurora—"

Megan cuts in, laughing lightly, stepping closer to link her arm through his. "She is joking. Go. I'll stay with her." That is the last thing I want, so naturally, that is exactly what happens.

Damien gives me one long look, the kind meant to remind me that this conversation is not over, then turns and walks back toward the noise and light of the main hall. Megan waits until he disappears before dropping her smile entirely.

"You are getting reckless," she says. "And you are getting lazy." Her eyes narrow. "I don't know what game you're playing."

"That makes two of us."

That one is not entirely a lie.

She studies me for a moment, then laughs once under her breath. "Be careful, Aurora. Different doesn't always mean stronger." Then she leaves, too.

I stand alone in the corridor and let out a breath I did not realize I was holding. My elbow still remembers Damien's grip. My chest still remembers Sebastian's eyes on me. My mistake at the table sits in the middle of both like a stone dropped into still water, the ripples moving farther than I meant them to.

I need one minute.

Just one.

I slip farther down the corridor until the sound of the dinner dulls enough for me to think clearly. My phone is in my hand before I remember pulling it out. I unlock it and stare at the blank screen for half a second, almost expecting another message to already be waiting for me.

Nothing, that should make me feel better.

It doesn't. "Running away already?"

I look up too fast.

Sebastian Reed is leaning against the wall at the far end of the corridor like he has been there long enough to know exactly how long I needed before I looked his way. His jacket is still buttoned. His expression is not. Up close, he looks even more dangerous than he did across the room. Not because of size or money or power, though all three are there.

Because he watches like nothing about him is wasted.

"I wasn't aware I needed permission to walk," I say.

The corner of his mouth moves. Not quite a smile. "You don't." He pushes off the wall and comes closer. Not enough to crowd me. Enough to change the air.

"My uncle knows your name," he says. Straight to the point, I should have expected that. "So does half the room by now." "That isn't what I meant." No, it isn't. I fold my arms loosely, more to give my hands somewhere to go than because I am cold. "Then say what you mean."

His eyes stay on my face. "When your name was said, Vincent reacted."

"He did." "You noticed."

"I notice things." Something unreadable passes across his face. Approval, maybe. Or warning. "So do I," he says. We stand there for a second, both of us looking at each other like the other one just confirmed a theory neither of us is ready to say out loud.

Then he asks, "Why were you really asking about the portfolio at the table?" Because it was mine before men like you decided money makes theft look respectable.

Because my future keeps changing shape every time your name enters a room, because your uncle looked at my last name like it belonged to a ghost.

I say none of that. "I wanted to know who was trying to buy my future," I say instead. His gaze drops briefly to my empty left hand, then back to my face. "And what did you decide?"

"That he moves fast." A pause. "He?" he asks. There it is. The trap lay gently, almost politely. I should step around it. I know I should. Instead, I say, "You." Something shifts in his eyes then. Small. Real. Before either of us can say anything else, my phone buzzes.

Once, then again. I look down: Unknown number, a photo. My blood goes cold before I even open it.

It is a picture of Sebastian and me standing in the corridor. Taken seconds ago. My face turned up toward his. His body angled toward mine. Close enough to ruin me if the wrong person sees it.

One line sits beneath the image.

Now he sees you. Don't let Damien take you home.

Sebastian watches my face change. "What is it?" I look up at him, then past him, down the corridor. At the dark stretch between two pillars where nobody should be standing and where, for one second, I am certain someone was.

Someone inside the diner just took a photo of Aurora and Sebastian together.

And whoever is watching her does not think Damien is the most dangerous man she needs to fear tonight.