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Unknown: Maybe I already have. Are you flirting with me?

Nausea tightened my stomach.

I’d already seen his face? But, wait… was I flirting with my admirer? And did I just admit to having eyes for Manic Mortaine?

I stifled a groan and cast my gaze over the ballroom. He was toying with me again—surely that was what it was.

Ignoring his text with a huff, I reached my parent’s table, my entire body burning with the knowledge of being watched. I risked a glance behind me. Manic was gone, but that didn’t mean he wasn't nearby. He hovered like a shadow, never leaving his back to the doors. Something I’d noticed throughout the years.

Chatter echoed from the doorway, a sparkling silver dress catching my attention as I recognized the luxurious fabric from that boutique earlier. Amelia walked in with a wide smile, her parents in tow. She slipped away and strode toward us with a confident click of her heels, ensuring to greet my parents first before turning to me.

“A drink?” Amelia asked, nodding toward the bar. An invitation to leave my duty to stay near my parents, and God did I need it.

“Don’t go too far,” Father demanded, arching a brow, then sipped his wine. His unforgiving gaze found mine over the rim of his glass. “And do not discuss my business with anyone.”

As always, he ordered me to remain hushed about his work at a business event. I almost rolled my eyes, but Amelia stiffened beside me, remaining silent. It was nothing unusual as my father’s authority made her uncomfortable, but she behaved the same way with her own father. Mother stood quiet beside him, sipping her wine with a downward gaze.

“I’m twenty-four, not a child,” I told him. “But I’ll find my way back, just like I always do. My lips are sealed.”

He grunted before waving me off, and I fell into step beside Amelia. I could practically feel my father’s stare burn my shoulder blades. Our heels clicked along the marble, and Amelia hooked her arm through mine while she glanced over the dimly lit area.

“Imagine selling your soul for a place like this,” she said beneath her breath, and I huffed a dry laugh.

“I’m sure that’s what they did to obtain it,” I replied sarcastically. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they did. Do you think their warehouses actually make enough money for this place?”

Her brows furrowed, and she shot me a sidelong glance. Whatever just crossed her face was immediately smoothed out once we reached the bar. She plastered a dazzling smile to her mouth and leaned against the edge of the bar to skim the room again.

I rested my hands atop the dark marble, cool against my palms. Small, domed lamps sat on the surface, casting a warm glow along the length of it. I raised a hand, failing to catch the bartender's attention as he briskly walked past.

“Grave is looking utterly exquisite,” Amelia said casually, then snorted a laugh. “Couldn’t pay me enough to entertain him though.”

I looked over my shoulder, finding Grave, Manic, and Naomi deep in conversation across the room, and my stomach dipped.

Grave, with his blond hair slicked back, stood tall in a black suit. Naomi wore a beautiful blue dress, tight enough to hug every slender curve with a train just long enough to graze the floor. She held a glass of wine, looking slightly bored. Then her eyes found mine, and she offered me a slow smile. Though Amelia’s cheeks flushed as her gaze remained fixed on them, and I held back a smile.

“You’re a damn liar,” I muttered. “If he spared you an ounce of attention, you’d probably slip away, given how your face looks. He’s quite attractive and your type. And I faintly recall a moment at the club a few years ago.”

Her head snapped to me, and she scoffed before turning to the bar again, delicately placing her hands on the surface with her shoulders back. “Well, that’s not true at all. We’ve had many conversations before, and I’ve never once slipped off with him. And, I hardly remember that night at their club. That doesn’t count.”

Her eyes shot down, and I knew she was lying.

Though my mind flared with the three year old memory—both of us extricated by Manic and Grave. Their club and its swell of music. Us drunk and lured below the first level by two lawyers. Manic had driven me home, but details from that night drifted far too quickly for me to catch in their entirety.

I shivered and pushed it aside.

“Oh, please.” I chuckled just as the bartender met my eyes. I lifted my hand again and he began striding our way, but not before another guest caught him first. I stifled an annoyed growl and turned back to Amelia. “You say that every year. He’s the perfect mixture of wealth and something forbidden with enough ink to satisfy you.”

She smiled, a small curve of her lips. “Maybe. There’s just something about those tattoos on his fingers—Grave Crowe,” she said the name carefully. “Does that not intrigue you?”

Even though I said nothing, it did intrigue me, given their last name wasn’t Crowe. The ballroom was crowded now, every inch of the bar taken up by someone in tailored, sparkling clothing in every shade of color.

“Are we ever going to get a drink?” Amelia hissed quietly just as someone in a fine suit stepped beside her.

We immediately stiffened, both of us catching Grave’s charming smile as he gave Amelia a not-so-subtle once-over. Hunger blazed in his stare, but I couldn’t hear what he whispered to her as buzzing chatter filled the space around us. Her lips parted though, surely caught off guard by the sheer size of him towering nearly a foot above her.

If he was here, that meant…

My back warmed as someone stepped behind me—crowding me—and I straightened at the too-close proximity. Great, just what I needed.