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“You’re arguing with me.”

There’s a flash of fire in her eyes. “Yes. I am.”

“What are you angry about?”

“You disappearing from me. Nottalkingto me.” She brushes something off my shoulder. “If you want me to wear your ring, Calloway, you have topropose.And you have to actually be here.”

I grip her left hand, run my thumb over the knuckle.Stay here,I want to say. But if I tell her what I want, what Itrulywant, I risk driving her away.

Or worse… see that lovely fake smile on her face when she’s trying so hard to be nice. It would kill me if she ever aimed it at me.

“Go, then,” I tell her. “As long as you know who you’re coming home to.”

“That depends.” She walks toward the door, her heels clicking against the marble. “Will you be here when I come back?”

Always,I think. “Yes.”

“See you later, then.” She slips out the door, and I stand there for a long few minutes, fists clenching at my sides.

Jealousy and anger burn beneath my shirt, and I pull the first two buttons undone. At least there’s something I can do for her tonight.

A situation that needs solving.

It takes less than an hour to drive back to Wilde’s party. I park a ten-minute walk away. The party barely has any security at all. Just a single security guard by the door and a widely smiling man with a clipboard to check off guests.

The house behind it is empty. It’s for sale, from what I saw earlier, and I walk through their garden to get to the garden of the event space. I shrug out of the jacket I threw on for the rain and hide it behind the fence. Sneak through the hedge…

And then I’m in.

No one notices me walking through the garden in the rain. There’s no one on the terrace, anyway, despite it being covered. I move along the outside of the house, finding the back door. I pass by a waiter and turn the corner to find… there it is. The spiral staircase.

I’ve done my research on the venue.

The second floor is deserted. I find a small overlook cast in shadow, and beneath it the grand ballroom is on full, glittering display. Wilde didn’t skimp on the invite list. He’s turning sixty, and there’s an open bar and a band playing.

I lean against the wall. A shadow moves beside me, and it shouldn’t surprise me that he’s here.

We think the same way.

“Found your way here?” Rafe’s voice is low. Neither of us wants to be seen up here.

“For the same reason you did.”

“I doubt that.” He looks down at the mass of people below. I recognize a few of them. Others are strangers to me, but they’re still here. At a party he’s thrown, a man willing to terrify a young woman for the hope ofmaybethrowing the Montclairs off their game. They’re all guilty by association.

I cross my arms over my chest. “You’ve been considering how to play your hand. Admit it.”

Rafe blends into the wall. “I don’t need to admit anything to you.”

“You were thinking, just for a moment, how to spin this to your advantage.” My hand tightens at my side. “Use it as a bargaining chip.”

“You would too.”

“Not when Nora is concerned.”

“We’ve worked years on this deal.” There is anger beneath his usually controlled voice. “That company will be mine. Sooner or later. And it won’t be with that asshole at the helm. I want more than just a single night of embarrassment for him.”

“We agree on that.”