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A little later that night, the band transitions to a slower number, and Charlie pulls me onto the dance floor, his hand warm against my back. For a moment, I let myself forget we're at a family wedding and simply enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, swaying to the music.

That's when I spot her through the crowd—Barbara Carlton, the woman who was so rude to me following my audition with the symphony.

"What's wrong?" Charlie asks, feeling my change in energy. "Are you tired? We can sit down."

"No, it's—" I nod slightly toward where Barbara stands, chatting with an older couple. "Barbara Carlton is here."

Charlie's jaw tightens. "Ignore her. She's not worth your energy."

"Easy for you to say. She didn't publicly question your professional credentials." But I try to relax against him, focusing on the gentle pressure of his body against mine.

The song ends, and Charlie leads me off the dance floor toward the bar. "Sparkling water?" he asks, and I nod.

While Charlie signals the bartender, I glance around the room, admiring the elegant blue and silver decorations. The Edgewater has always been one of my favorite Seattle hotels, with its rustic-luxe aesthetic and spectacular water views.

"Tess Whitlock, isn't it?"

The voice sends a cold prickle down my spine. I turn to find Barbara Carlton standing beside me, clutching a martini glass. She has a perfect French manicure and is wearing a very expensive looking silver dress.

"Mrs. Carlton," I say, forcing a polite smile. "How nice to see you again."

"I hear congratulations are in order." Her eyes glitter with anything but warmth. "You've certainly made yourself comfortable at the Seattle Symphony."

"Thank you. The position has been wonderful." I keep my voice steady, though my heart begins to race. Why is she talking to me?

"Mmmm." She takes a delicate sip of her martini. "Gloria Stewart's maternity replacement, isn't it? Quite the lucky timing."

Charlie returns with my sparkling water, his expression darkening when he sees Barbara. "Ms. Carlton," he says, his voice cool as he slips a protective arm around my waist.

"Charlie," she acknowledges with a thin smile. "I was just telling Tess how fortunate she is. Not many musicians make such...convenient transitions between orchestras. Especially with PacWest's unfortunate situation."

The implication hangs in the air, as deliberate as the last time she insinuated I only got my position through Charlie's influence.

"Yes, I've been very fortunate," I say, finding my voice. "Maestro Cortez has been incredibly supportive."

"I'm sure he has," Barbara says with mock sweetness. "It must be nice having such powerful...connections. You two have been quite the item this summer traipsing from wedding to wedding. And then you were somehow able to get an audition with the symphony."

Before I can respond, Charlie steps forward. "Barbara," he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous tone I've never heard before, "I'm curious why you're so invested in my girlfriend's career path."

Barbara blinks, momentarily thrown off balance. "I'm merely making conversation, Charlie."

"No, you're not," Charlie says, each word precisely enunciated. "You're insinuating that Tess's position with the symphony is due to anything other than her exceptional talent. Twice now. And I'm wondering why you feel the need to do that."

Barbara's cheeks flush slightly. "I didn't mean to imply?—"

"Yes, you did," Charlie interrupts. His voice remains conversational, but there's steel beneath it. "Tess graduated from Julliard. She was principal cellist with PacWest for five years. She's been performing since she was seven years old." His eyes never leave Barbara's face. "The only reason her connection to me matters is that I was lucky enough to hear her play and recognize her extraordinary talent before we ever became involved."

I feel a rush of warmth at his defense, but Barbara's eyes narrow.

"Well," she says with a forced laugh, "I was only?—"

"Only what, Barbara?"

Bev Astor's voice cuts through the tense conversation. She appears at Charlie's side, elegant as ever in her navy dress, but her eyes are glacial as they focus on Barbara Carlton.

"Bev," Barbara says, her voice suddenly honeyed. "Lovely wedding. Anna looks radiant."

"She does, doesn’t she?" Bev replies, her smile forced. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation. I'm so curious—do you also question the credentials of the male musicians in the symphony, or is your concern reserved exclusively for talented women?"