Page 32 of Break My Heart

It’s always a spectacle, but tomorrow it turns into a proving ground.

A place for me to prove I’m no shrinking violet.

11

TRAFFIC MANAGEMENT: NAVIGATING SLOWER CARS

The first thing I notice after I step fully into the ballroom is its scale and beauty.

With almost thirty-foot ceilings and more than one hundred thousand square feet of space, the Fontainebleau Royal Ballroom has been transformed into a smoky, elegant spectacle. Combined with its elite guest list, tonight is sure to dazzle anyone who hasn’t been to one of these events before.

Within moments of presenting my invitation, I hear murmurs rippling through the crowd.

“Is that…?”

“Oh, it is!”

“I hope her father is her plus one.”

I don’t even have time to roll my eyes before I’m intercepted. A familiar voice calls out my name, “Christin! Ower here, lass!”

“I could pick out that Scottish brogue anywhere,” I mutter to myself, already smiling. “Marcus, it’s been far too long.”

Before he retired due to a bad leg fracture, Marcus McCrae was someone my father mentored and still maintains a friendship with. I recall Aio’s reaction when I told her I knew him. She swore she’d do anything to meet him just once.

Seeing him in a tux, I can appreciate why.

Handsome as sin, he now sports a touch of silver in his hair that only highlights his impressive blue eyes. But it’s his boisterous laugh people remember long after they’re done being impressed by his name.

He pulls me into a brief hug before stepping back, hands resting on my shoulders like he’s confirming I’m real. “Look at ye. Aw grown up an’ pure brilliant at whit ye dae, frae whit yer dad says.”

“I like to confound expectations in creative ways that terrify people.”

“Ye sound the dead spit o’ yer dad.”

“Christin, where have you been hiding?” another voice cuts in.

I whirl around until I’m facing a literal wall of a gorgeous man—all broad shoulders and devastating looks that would stop many a woman’s heart. I demand, “Who thought it was a good idea to put you two in a room together?”

David Cain chuckles before drawling, “Someone with exceptional taste.”

“Why am I not surprised you’re the one who said that, David?” I offer the Alaskan native a beaming smile.

He reaches over and lifts my hand to his lips with a gentlemanly charm I know he learned from his father and uncles. “Haven’t seen you around the circuit for a while. Thought we lost you to a malfunctioning operating system.”

“Cute, David. I’ve been working,” I say.

Marcus snorts. “She means she’s bin oot there buildin’ things that’ll require mair time on the track.”

David shakes his head, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Great. Love that. Way to boost morale.”

I pat his shoulder. “Your morale levels require too much effort. My job is to identify efficiencies.”

David’s mouth curves. “Yes, I’ve read some of your work.”

That gets my attention. “You have?”

“Enough,” David replies. “Adaptive input modeling. Interface stabilization under load.”