4

“Of course.”

My hand slides into his, and he doesn’t wait—guiding me toward the center of the floor with quiet certainty.

Where Evan had been careful and Liam's touch had been light, Shaun has no such hesitation — he draws me flush against his chest, pulling me in without asking, without leaving space for interpretation. My body aligns with his before I even process the movement.

His other hand moves—fingers brushing beneath my hair, pushing it aside, before resting against the bare skin of the small of my back.

And we begin.

“So… where exactly have you been hiding?” he asks, his voice low but threaded with amusement as we move. “How is it that I’ve never seen you before?”

“Where, exactly?” I tilt my head slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. “At your father’s hospital? Or around my own?”

“Both.”

Up this close, the thin dark ring around his gray irises is unmistakable. There’s nothing soft there. Nothing restrained. All fire and heat.

Too much of it.

I exhale quietly, cutting through it before it pulls me in any further. “You mind toning it down?” I say. “It feels like you’re trying to devour me with your eyes.”

His mouth curves—slow, knowing.

Then he leans in.

Close enough that his breath brushes against my ear.

“Playing shy, are we?” he murmurs.

I should push him away.

I want to.

But my body reacts before my mind catches up. A flicker of warmth spreads under my skin, my breath hitching just enough to betray me. And with the way his hand is pressed against my back—he feels it.

“Your body’s telling a different story.”

Damn it.

I draw in a deeper breath, forcing control back into my limbs, into my voice, into something.

“Are you always this comfortable with women you’ve just met?” I ask, lifting my chin slightly.

“Only the pretty ones,” he replies without missing a beat, that smirk pulling at his lips again. “Besides… you’re not exactly a stranger.”

“I’m not familiar either.”

“We’ll fix that.” A quick wink. Effortless. Infuriating.

“I don’t think so.” I hold his gaze—even if the rest of me isn’t nearly as composed. “My path doesn’t cross yours. Just like it hasn’t in the past two years I’ve been working at the hospital… I don’t plan on seeing you after tonight either.”

“Wanna bet?”

God—does he ever stop?

And worse—why the hell does my body refuse to cooperate with my brain? Every word out of my mouth pushes him away, every instinct in me leans closer. It’s been three years since I felt anything even remotely like this.

Three years.

Don’t go there.

Don’t even think about opening that door.

“Li-a-na.” He drags my name across his tongue, like he’s testing how it feels. “I like the way it sits in my mouth.”

I let out a short, disbelieving breath, one corner of my lips lifting. “Wow. That’s new. You just redefined flirting.”

He leans in again—closer this time, close enough that the space between us feels irrelevant. His hand moves against my back, almost absentminded—but not really.

“Give it a minute,” he murmurs, voice low, edged with something darker. “I haven’t even started yet.”

Oh fuck.

No.

No, no, no.

I’m not doing this.

“No need,” I manage. “I’ve heard enough.”

“Liar,” he says, a quiet laugh slipping out, warm and entirely too sure of itself.

I don’t answer.

I’m not letting this spiral—not letting him drag it somewhere I’ll regret later just because he knows exactly how to push.

Then—a shift.

A movement across the room draws his attention, and I feel it the second his focus slips from me. His gaze lifts, sharpening slightly as it fixes somewhere past my shoulder.

“Looks like my dear brother finally decided to show up.”

There’s an edge to it.

Sharp.

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. For a split second, it doesn’t match the man standing in front of me—the one who, up until now, seemed entirely too composed, too in control.

Jenny mentioned something earlier. Tension. Conflict.

But this?

This sounds like something deeper.

I follow his line of sight, scanning the shifting crowd, trying to pick out the new Stone.

At first, it’s just fragments—shoulders, movement, glimpses between people.

Then I see him.

Tall.

Taller than most of the men around him, enough that he stands out even without trying. The back of his head, the line of his shoulders—there’s something about the way he holds himself that separates him from the rest.

If he would just turn—

“Come on,” Shaun says, already moving. “Let me introduce you to my brother.”

Before I can even form the thought—his hand closes around mine, dragging me along behind him.

Whatever hell burns between those two — I want absolutely no part of it.

Not even for a second.

But whatever resistance I'd been gathering — it dissolves the instant the man in the center of the crowd finally turns.

And I see him.

Everything inside me—just stops.

And then, all at once, it doesn’t.

My heart stutters, then slams hard against my ribs, like it’s trying to make up for lost time. Blood rushes through my veins too fast, too loud, heat flooding my body in a way that feels almost violent.

My knees weaken.

Actually weaken.

And if Shaun’s grip wasn’t still locked around my hand, steady and unrelenting—I might have collapsed right there.

No.

No way.

My breath catches somewhere between my lungs and my throat, refusing to move.

Julian.