CHAPTER FOUR-A GAME OF APPEARANCES

Rose had never been this annoyed in her life. Sam was infuriatingly calm, leaning against the polished marble wall outside the event hall as if he owned the place. Which, to her knowledge, he didn’t.

“You know my mother will never approve of you,” she said, crossing her arms and glancing toward the open doors where the charity gala was in full swing.

Sam’s lips quirked. “And why’s that?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Because she thinks you’re… well…” She hesitated, as if saying it out loud would somehow make it worse. “…poor.”

Sam laughed softly. “Ah. So she’s one of those people who judges a man by his wallet?”

“Don’t take it personally,” Rose muttered. “She’s just… protective.”

“She’s protective of her social status,” Sam corrected. “Not you.”

That stung. Mostly because it was true. Rose’s mother, Diana Westwood, had built her reputation in the city’s elite circles and guarded it like a priceless jewel. Anyone who didn’t fit her picture-perfect image of wealth and refinement was unwelcome.

And in her eyes, Sam fell firmly into that category.

Crystal chandeliers dripped light over the crowd in the gala hall. Waiters in black vests floated between the guests with trays of champagne. Diana Westwood was in her element, her laughter carrying across the room as she charmed investors and old-money socialites alike.

When her eyes landed on Sam standing next to Rose her smile faltered ever so slightly.

She glided over, her silver gown shimmering under the lights. “Rose,” she said sweetly, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your… friend?”

Rose forced a polite smile. “Mum, this is Sam Carter. Sam, my mother, Diana Westwood.”

Diana’s gaze swept over Sam with the same cool appraisal she reserved for overpriced art she didn’t intend to buy. “And what do you do, Mr. Hartman?”

Sam met her gaze without flinching. “I work in hospitality.”

Rose winced internally. It wasn’t a lie, but she knew exactly how her mother would interpret it.

“Hospitality,” Diana repeated, the corners of her mouth tightening. “I see.”

Later that night,the music swelled as a waltz began, couples gliding onto the dance floor. Sam leaned toward Rose, his voice low. “Care to dance?”

“You’re not helping,” she hissed.

“Oh, I’m helping plenty,” he said, taking her hand before she could refuse.

They stepped onto the dance floor, and despite herself, Rose felt her pulse quicken. Sam’s hand was firm at her waist, his movements smooth and confident. He didn’t look like a man out of place. If anything, he looked like he belonged more than half the men in the room.

“Careful,” Sam murmured as they twirled past Diana’s watchful eyes. “You’re starting to smile.”

“I’m not smiling,” Rose protested.

“Sure you’re not.”

Meanwhile,Diana Westwood wasn’t pleased. She leaned toward her closest friend, Evelyn, and whispered, “He’s dangerous.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Dangerous? He’s just a man in a suit.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Diana said. “Men like him… they get close, they play their part, and before you know it, they’re after the family fortune. I won’t let Rose be fooled.”

What Diana didn’t know was that Sam wasn’t after Rose’s money. If anything, he had more of it than she could imagine,he just didn’t want anyone to know.

At the end of the night,as the guests drifted out, Sam escorted Rose toward the entrance. “So,” he said casually, “did I pass the test?”

Rose smirked. “Barely. She still hates you.”

“Good,” Sam replied. “It’s more fun that way.”

Rose shook her head, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes now. Who exactly was Sam Hartman?

Because something told her… he wasn’t what he seemed.

The next morning, Diana makes a phone call. “I want every detail about Samuel Hartman,” she tells a private investigator. “Everything.”