Page 117 of Override

I stare at the phone for a long moment. Then quietly turn it face down. As if hiding it somehow makes the feeling disappear.

It doesn't.

Not even a little.

****

Ronan has been acting strange all evening. More than usual.

The thought trails me through every conversation, every introduction, every forced smile.

Normally at events like this, he keeps me close. Not because he wants to spend time with me. Because appearances matter.

Tonight, however, he seems distracted. Restless. His attention keeps drifting toward entrances. Toward security. Toward people moving through the crowd.

Like he's waiting for something. Or someone.

The ballroom glitters beneath crystal chandeliers while donors and politicians drift from conversation to conversation. Somewhere behind me a string quartet plays softly.

I should be enjoying myself. Instead I feel like an accessory. Something Ronan brought with him and forgot to take home.

His gaze suddenly fixes on something across the room. Immediately his posture changes. Alert. Focused.

A smile appears on his face that doesn't reach his eyes. "Excuse me."

I follow his line of sight. A man stands near the opposite side of the ballroom surrounded by several others. An old colleague, maybe. Business associate. I don't know.

Ronan is already turning toward him.

Then he pauses. Looks back at me. "Stay here."

My brow furrows slightly. "What?"

"The bar." His tone leaves no room for argument. "I'll only be a few minutes."

I glance toward the crowd. Then back at him. "You want me to wait?"

"Yes." The answer comes immediately. Firmly. Then his eyes narrow slightly. "Don't wander off."

Something about the words lands wrong. Not because of what he says. Because of how familiar it sounds. Like instructions. Not a request.

I force a smile anyway. "Okay."

His shoulders relax. Just slightly. Then he's gone. Crossing the ballroom toward the man before I can ask another question.

I watch him disappear into the crowd. Confusion lodges heavy in my chest. The entire night has been like this. Every conversation interrupted. Every interaction shortened. Every attempt I've made to speak with someone redirected.

Twice he's answered questions for me. Three times he's pulled me away from conversations before they'd barely started.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I turn toward the bar. Order sparkling water. Then settle onto one of the stools.

Alone. Again.

My phone vibrates. The sound draws my attention.

For reasons I refuse to examine too closely.

I unlock the screen. And freeze.