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I glance at the couple I was staring at earlier. Instead of seeing the two people, I imagine myself as the girl. And sitting in the man’s place is Klaus Sinclair. And the very thought of doing those things to him—being the object of his fascination, being the reason for his madness—steals the breath from my lungs.

I stand abruptly.

Gigi reaches for my hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I just need some fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you,” she says immediately.

“No, stay,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

I can feel Mrs. Hendricks and the twins watching me. I gesture toward the exit. Mrs. Hendricks nods at me. I catch a hint of concern in her eyes.

My legs feel like spaghetti noodles as I walk away from the stage.

With every step I take, I feel his gaze moving over my skin like a forbidden touch.

The interview this morning was only a few minutes, but I know I’ll spend the rest of my life replaying it.

Once more, disappointment settles at the base of my stomach.

The man was aggravating, but there was something about him. I don’t understand why I feel so bad about never seeing him again. It wasn’t like I knew him or anything. But the sense of losing something important persists.

I’m lost in my head when I accidentally walk straight into the wall.

The wall shifts underneath me. It’s not a wall, but a tall, muscular man. The scent of his cologne awakens a fire inside me.

I glance up for a moment. The flashing lights from behind me fall on his face, revealing the long scar along his right cheek. My heart jumps to my throat.

It’s him.

It’s actually him.

Before his eyes can register my face, I duck my head and slip away.

“Excuse me,” I whisper as I walk past him. As my strides get longer, I feel his gaze on my back. It melts down my spine like warm honey.

I have no way of knowing this, but Iknow. He was watching me earlier in the club. It was his eyes that I felt on me.

Emotions burst within me like a volcano. Hot lava licks against the walls of my heart.

All of me is burning.

I want to turn around for one last glance. But instead, I push open the door that leads back to the grand foyer. The club music is replaced by the softer notes of the piano.

I head straight toward the bar. As I slide onto the stool, a hand clasps my shoulder.

All of me freezes at the sudden touch.

I glance back. I swallow the strange disappointment that arises when I see that it’s only Mrs. Hendricks.

“Did something happen?” she asks me.

“Pardon?” I can feel my heart beatingeverywherenow—my throat, my belly, the backs of my knees.

“Your mood shifted halfway through the show,” she says. “Is there something or someone who made you feel uncomfortable?”

Klaus Sinclair’s face flashes through my mind. The two of us only met today, but it feels like he’s someone I’ve known all along.