Page 20

We clink glasses and sip.
My eyes flick back toward Marcus but find the space where he stood now empty. I scan the room but don’t see him.
“I’m going to get some air,” I say.
I make my way toward the glass doors leading to the balcony. A couple drifts inside just as I approach, leaving the outdoor space empty.I step out, the cool air washing over my skin as I lean against the railing, taking a deep breath.
The view is nothing short of magical. The city stretches out before me, lights twinkling like earthbound stars against the darkness. The soft lilt of the violin floats out through the open doors, delicate and haunting.
And all I can think about is Marcus. The way his voice drops when he’s talking to someone important. The crinkle near his eyes when he smiles. The way he smells of sandalwood and warmth and something expensive I’ll never be able to name. The past year and a half of hallway glances, quiet mornings and tiny nothings. The months of seeing him every day at the office, wondering if he might ever see me the same.
“Beautiful view.”
The voice behind me is low and rich, and it runs down my spine like silk.
I turn slowly to find Marcus standing in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a short glass of something amber and smooth. The light from the ballroom casts him in gold, haloed and perfect.
But he’s not looking at the skyline.
He’s looking at me.
“You look incredible,” he says, taking a step closer. “I almost didn’t recognise you for a second.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my heart hammering against my ribs. “You look nice too.”
Nice? Really, Lila? The man looks like he’s just stepped out of a freaking Bond film and the best you can come up with is ‘nice’?
He smiles, soft and knowing, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that’s not just polite. It lingers. His gaze drops briefly to my lips, so quick I almost think I imagined it.
I smile, trying to stay grounded, though my knees threaten to give out.
He steps up beside me, resting one hand on the balcony railing. His shoulder brushes mine. Not quite touching. But almost.
“It’s strange,” he says, looking out over the city. “I’ve been coming to these galas for years, but this one feels… different.”
“I’ve heard it’s a lot smaller,” I offer, glancing up at him.
He smiles. “It is smaller, but it’s not just the numbers. I think I’m actually… noticing it for once.”
“Noticing what?”
He turns to me just slightly. “Everything. The lights. The music. The way people look at each other when they think no one’s watching.”
My breath catches and butterflies flutter in my chest.
“Usually, I’m so rushed off my feet at these things, I don’t get a minute to breathe,” he adds.
“You could always hide out here with me,” I say, surprised by the boldness in my own voice.
His mouth lifts at one corner, a playful gleam flickering in his eyes. “Tempting.”
I feel the warmth of his closeness, the air between us humming with the weight of everything we’re not quite saying.
He looks at me like he wants to say something else -
“Marcus.”
A woman’s voice cuts through the air, breaking the spell. We both turn to see Amanda, the VP he was talking to earlier, standing in the doorway, her expression apologetic but firm.