The hotel ballroom looked like it belonged in a magazine spread crystal chandeliers, velvet drapes, and a press line longer than a Monday morning coffee run. Photographers jostled for position, their flashes popping like fireworks.Mia smoothed her dress, forcing her shoulders back. She’d faced skeptical board members, furious clients, and her mother’s disappointment, but this,this was different. Cameras didn’t forgive cracks. One wrong glance, one stumble, and the world would rip her apart.Beside her, Liam looked carved from confidence. Perfect suit, perfect posture, that infuriating half-smile that said he knew everyone was watching.“Ready?” he asked under his breath, his hand brushing her elbow as if they were rehearsing affection.She shot him a side glance. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Try not to look smug.”He leaned closer, so close she caught a whiff of his cologne clean, sharp, expensive. “Smug is my brand.”She bit back a retort as a reporter waved them over.“Mr. Wolfe! ,Ms. C
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