Chapter Three

Three days after Damian Taylor paid Serena thirty million dollars to disappear, he announced his engagement to another woman.

Serena found out while eating breakfast.

Her phone vibrated against the table several times in quick succession, but she ignored it at first, deciding that her coffee deserved more attention than whatever emergency had apparently developed before eight in the morning. When the vibrations continued, she sighed and finally reached for it.

Six messages waited for her. Two were from friends, one from her cousin, and three were from people who had absolutely no business sending her anything before she had finished her first cup of coffee.

She opened the first link and immediately understood why everyone had decided normal social boundaries no longer applied.

There he was.

Damian.

Serena went still as she studied the photograph, which had apparently been taken outside a private dinner the previous evening. Damian stood in a black suit with one hand resting lightly at Cecilia Arden’s waist.

Cecilia was beautiful. Serena had known that already, but knowing it and seeing her beside Damian were two very different things.

Her blonde hair fell in polished waves over one shoulder, and she wore a pale cream dress with understated jewelry and the serene smile of a woman who had never once wondered whether she belonged in Damian Taylor’s world. Her left hand rested against his chest, displaying a diamond that was impossible to miss.

AELLA GROUP BILLIONAIRE DAMIAN TAYLOR ENGAGED TO ARDEN CAPITAL HEIRESS CECILIA ARDEN

Serena stared at the photograph longer than she should have.

They looked right together, which was perhaps the most offensive part of all. They were elegant, wealthy and impeccable, exactly the sort of couple people would look at and immediately understand. Nobody would have to explain Cecilia Arden’s place beside Damian Taylor.

Her gaze drifted to the hand resting at Cecilia’s waist, and Serena remembered that three nights ago, that same hand had been on her.

She locked her phone.

“No. Not today.”

Serena reached for her coffee just as the phone vibrated again, prompting her to turn it facedown on the table. She had an eleven o’clock meeting, two proposals awaiting approval, a vendor threatening to develop a sudden inability to understand deadlines, and a Golden Chalice Foundation gala that evening her company had spent nearly four months preparing.

Damian Taylor could get married on the moon if he wanted.

Serena had work to do.

◇ ◇ ◇

By seven thirty that evening, there wasn’t an empty table in the ballroom.

Serena stood near the entrance surveying the final arrangements while guests filtered into the room. The lighting was warm, the flowers were perfect, champagne moved continuously through the crowd, and every member of her staff was exactly where they needed to be.

There were no disasters yet, which, in Serena’s profession, was usually when she began expecting one.

“Ms. Ellis?”

One of the junior coordinators hurried toward her. “The King Holdings table has six place settings. Their office just confirmed seven.”

“Add another.”

“We don’t have space without shifting something.”

Serena glanced across the ballroom. “Move the Ellington Ventures table six inches toward the windows and open the King Holdings setting on the right. It’ll fit.”

The coordinator followed her gaze toward the tables before looking back at her with dawning understanding.

“Oh.”

Serena smiled. “That’s why they pay me.”

The young woman hurried off, leaving Serena to return her attention to the room.

She had chosen emerald green tonight. The gown skimmed her curves before falling elegantly to the floor, while the low-cut back exposed a long stretch of golden-brown skin. Her curls fell around her shoulders and down her back in a wild sweep of caramel and honey.

Serena had briefly considered wearing something restrained after seeing Damian’s engagement announcement that morning. The impulse had lasted approximately four seconds before she remembered who she was.

A waiter approached with champagne, and she accepted a glass with a quiet thank-you before turning back toward the ballroom.

That was when she caught a man staring.

He wasn’t glancing discreetly in her direction, either. The tall, attractive man standing with two other guests near the bar had apparently forgotten whatever conversation they had been having because his attention was fixed entirely on Serena.

She raised her glass slightly.

His eyes met hers, and Serena held his gaze for a couple of seconds before smiling over the rim of her champagne as she took a sip.

The man’s mouth curved in response.

Better. Apparently, one man growing tired of her hadn’t rendered the rest of the world blind.

Serena turned away without waiting for him to approach. Tonight, she didn’t need anything more than the reminder.

“Serena.”

She looked toward the familiar voice and smiled. “Mr. Langley.”

“Please. We’ve done four events together. If you call me that again, I’m reducing your f*e.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

His laugh followed her as he leaned in to kiss her cheek, and Serena moved easily into conversation with him.

This was her world, filled with people, movement, beautiful rooms and impossible demands that had to be solved before clients ever realized there had been a problem. Serena had built something here through her own work, and whatever Damian had decided about her place in his life, he had neither given her this nor taken it away.

◇ ◇ ◇

Damian noticed at 10:17 that night that his phone had been unusually quiet for three days.

He shouldn’t have noticed at all.

Cecilia sat across from him in the private dining room of Château Lumière, discussing possible wedding dates with her mother over the phone. Damian had spent most of his day dealing with the public engagement announcement, accepting calls from board members, receiving congratulations from people he barely knew and sitting through a forty-minute meeting concerning Street Nation’s expansion strategy.

There had been nothing quiet about his day, yet every time his phone had lit up, something had been missing.

Damian picked it up and reviewed the notifications. There were emails, messages from his father, three from Julian and a notification from Aella’s general counsel.

Nothing else.

He set the phone down just as Cecilia ended her call.

“Mother thinks October.”

Damian looked up. “For?”

“The wedding.”

“October is fine.”

Cecilia’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “You don’t care?”

“I care that the date works.”

A small smile touched her mouth. “Very romantic.”

Damian reached for his water while Cecilia watched him for another moment before turning her attention toward the restaurant.

His phone remained beside his hand.

He turned it facedown.

Twenty minutes later, Cecilia excused herself to take another call, and Damian picked up the phone again. His thumb moved before he had consciously decided what he intended to do.

He opened his conversation with Serena.

The last message was from three nights ago, sent before she had arrived at his penthouse.

Serena: Ten minutes late. Try not to suffer too terribly.

Damian: You’re already twelve minutes late.

Serena: Then clearly you’ve survived.

There was nothing beneath it.

For nearly a year, there had always been something from Serena: a photograph sent without context, a complaint about one of his ties, or a message informing him that she was hungry and had somehow decided this was his responsibility. Sometimes the messages had been far less innocent, usually delivered while he was in a meeting because Serena enjoyed knowing exactly what she could do to his concentration.

Now there was nothing, exactly as there was supposed to be.

He had told her to disappear. Serena had signed the agreement, taken the money and instructed his staff to dispose of her belongings. She was doing precisely what he had demanded of her.

Damian locked the phone as Cecilia returned to the table.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

She sat, and her gaze dropped briefly toward the phone still in his hand. “Something important?”

“No.”

Damian slipped it into his pocket.

◇ ◇ ◇

The event ended shortly after eleven, and although Serena should have been exhausted, she felt strangely restless as the last guests lingered near the entrance while her staff began the discreet work of dismantling everything behind them.

“Ms. Ellis.”

She turned and found the man from the bar approaching her.

Up close, he was even more attractive.

“I’m Adrian Cole.”

“Serena.”

“I know.”

Her brow lifted.

Adrian smiled. “Your name is on the event materials. I promise I didn’t conduct an investigation.”

“Good. I’d hate to think I’d made you work for it.”

His gaze lingered on her with an interest that was neither subtle nor unwelcome.

“You planned all this?”

“My company did.”

“Impressive.”

“Thank you.”

Serena recognized the interest in his eyes immediately. Once, she might have shut it down before he had the opportunity to misunderstand her, but tonight she allowed the silence between them to stretch.

Adrian stepped slightly closer. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Serena tipped her head. “At my own event?”

“After.”

Her lips curved. “Bold.”

“Is that a no?”

She let her gaze travel over him once before returning deliberately to his face, slowly enough that he couldn’t possibly miss what she was doing.

“No.”

His smile widened.

“It isn’t a yes either,” Serena added.

“Then what is it?”

“An invitation to try harder.”

She walked away before he could answer.

Serena could feel his eyes following her, and for the first time in three days, the smile on her face had nothing whatsoever to do with pretending she was fine.

◇ ◇ ◇

Damian saw the photographs at 11:46 p.m.

He was home with his jacket discarded and his tie loosened when a post from the Golden Chalice Foundation gala appeared on his screen. He would have scrolled past it if Serena hadn’t been standing in the first photograph wearing emerald green.

His thumb stopped.

Her curls spilled around her shoulders, streaks of caramel and honey catching beneath the ballroom lights, while the gown followed every curve before falling elegantly to the floor. The back was cut low enough to expose a long stretch of golden-brown skin.

More importantly, Serena was laughing.

Damian opened the post.

She looked fine. More than fine, actually, which should not have mattered to him in the slightest.

Three nights ago, he had told Serena he had grown tired of her, and tonight she stood in the middle of a crowded ballroom looking as though Damian Taylor hadn’t managed to ruin so much as her evening.

He swiped to the next photograph and found Serena crossing the ballroom while several heads turned in her direction. The image after that made his thumb stop again.

A man Damian didn’t recognize stood beside her, leaning toward Serena with his attention fixed entirely on her. She had tipped her face toward his, and a slow smile curved her mouth.

Damian knew that smile.

His jaw tightened as he studied the photograph before closing it.

Serena was single now. She could flirt with whoever she wanted, date whoever she wanted and take whoever she wanted home. Damian had relinquished any right to an opinion about it when he ended their arrangement and paid her thirty million dollars to ensure she disappeared from his life.

He set the phone down and tried to leave it there.

The stranger wasn’t what stayed with him anyway. It was Serena’s smile and the uncomfortable realization that only three days had passed since she walked out of his penthouse, yet she already looked perfectly capable of enjoying a life that no longer included him.

Damian had demanded exactly that.

He was beginning to discover that getting what he wanted did not feel quite the way he had expected.