Georgia's POVThe first time I ever saw Josiah Mason, I felt his presence before I saw him. A pressure change in the atmosphere, like the moment before lightning strikes. At our summer gala, he materialized beside me as I stood alone by the fountain, nursing champagne and claustrophobia."Georgia Steele," he said, my name leaving his lips like a receipt for something he'd already bought and was just here to pick up.I turned to find a man who didn't occupy space so much as command it. Late thirties, with hair like midnight streaked with silver at the temples, and eyes the color of a storm-charged sky. His suit fit like it had been sewn around him, tailored to intimidate. Not handsome. That word was too soft, too simple. He was compelling the way predators are compelling. You can't look away even as every instinct you have screams at you to run."Mr. Mason," I replied, my voice steady despite the ice flooding my spine. "I've heard so much about you.""All favorable, I hope." His smile
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