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CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

That evening, Olivia dressed in a simple red dress that fell straight to her ankles. She pulled her hair back into a twist and wore silver teardrop earrings that dangled from her ears. A touch of perfume at her wrists and neck completed the transformation from fitness participant to elegant attendee.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with what she saw.

Physically, at least.

But her eyes still looked haunted.

More than anything, she wanted to relax and enjoy herself. She just wasn’t sure that was truly possible.

At least she and Tyson had talked. She felt foolish for jumping to conclusions—but those conclusions had shown her something about herself.

They’d shown her just how broken she still was. It wasn’t fair to Tyson to start a relationship when she still had these kinds of issues. But her time with Tyson . . . it had felt so healing.

She’d even talked to Lyle about it, and he’d agreed that she should take a step back.

She could put on a show in front of the camera. But when it came to her relationships, she needed to keep things real.

And the truth was, she was a mess. An absolute mess.

She’d be lying if she didn’t admit she was disappointed. Her bliss had been so short-lived.

Despite that, she would make the most of tonight.

As she descended the stairs, she spotted Tyson waiting in the foyer.

Her breath caught.

Dressed in a black tuxedo with his hands casually tucked in the pockets, he looked like he’d stepped from the pages of a high-fashion magazine. She pushed away the rush of attraction she felt.

When he saw her, his expression shifted from distraction to quiet admiration.

“I’ll be the envy of the party.” He took a step closer, grabbed her hand, and twirled her around, making her feel light and graceful despite the heaviness that shadowed her.

“You know how to flatter a woman.”

“Not flatter—the truth.”

Her cheeks flushed.

Then she looked him up and down. “You don’t appear too shabby yourself.”

Their earlier differences behind them, he offered his arm. “Our chariot awaits.”

Olivia looped her hand through the crook of his arm, and they walked outside. A black limousine waited in the circular drive.

“Security insisted on driving,” Tyson explained. “This event draws some of Charlotte’s most influential people.”

She glanced around the property, suddenly alert for any movement in the shadows.

She saw nothing.

Hobbes, acting as doorman tonight, waited beside the vehicle and opened the door as they approached. “You look lovely, Ms. Montgomery.”

“Thank you, Hobbes.” She slipped into the limo with Tyson behind her.

A moment later, they took off toward the gala.

As they headed down the road, Olivia wondered if Tyson felt as off-center right now as she did.

All she desperately wanted was to return to their sweet moments together from this weekend . . . before reality had crashed down on her and reminded her that The Admirer was still in control of her life.

But right now, that wasn’t possible.

* * *

As they drove, Tyson tried to keep his mind off how much he wanted to reach over and take Olivia’s hand. How much he wanted things to return to the way they were yesterday.

Though he knew this was for the best, he still wished things were different.

He tried to keep his thoughts occupied by explaining to Olivia that the event they were attending was a charity gala raising funds for children’s health initiatives, hosted by Charlotte’s Medical Foundation. It was also an opportunity to find potential sponsors for the school he was building.

He added that Donald would be there. He’d driven separately. Tyson had thought it was a good idea to have another set of eyes at the event.

When they arrived, camera flashes greeted them.

Olivia stepped from the limo, her media training kicking in as she smiled for the photographers.

“Ms. Montgomery! Over here!”

“Tyson! Olivia! Are you two dating?”

“How’s the fitness program going, Olivia?”

She called out a few generic answers, probably to try and be polite, and rested her hand on Tyson’s arm as he led her inside.

The dating rumors were really going to start spreading after this.

Inside the Grand Ballroom, chandeliers cast a warm glow over the hundreds of guests in formal attire. A stage had been erected at the front of the room where speeches would be given later. Around the perimeter sat elegantly appointed dining tables. Servers weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres.

Olivia should be perfectly in her element here.

Tyson? He’d rather be at home relaxing.

But this was for a good cause.

“Olivia Montgomery,” a deep voice said behind them.

Tyson turned and saw a man he didn’t recognize—tall with dark-blond hair and a charismatic smile—standing behind them.

Tyson instinctively moved in front of Olivia, not liking the vibe he got from this guy.

“Paul?” Olivia’s voice came out as a squeak. “What are you doing here?”

Wait . . . Paul?

Was he the FBI agent who’d worked her case back in New York? The one who’d broken her heart?

Tyson was nearly certain it was.

A surge of protectiveness rose in him, and he edged himself closer to Olivia . . . wishing she would let him protect her—not just physically, but her heart as well.

* * *

Olivia still couldn’t believe her eyes as she waited for Paul’s answer.

What was he doing here? No one had given her any indication he was coming into town or that he was coming to the gala.

Paul offered an easy smile—one that had weakened her knees at one time. “I’m following up on your case. I thought it would be prudent to coordinate with local authorities given the . . . similarities to your previous situation.”

Paul’s eyes flickered to Tyson, assessing him.

“Tyson Stone.” Tyson extended his hand, his voice harder than usual. “You must be the agent from New York.”

“And former boyfriend.” Paul shook Tyson’s hand with perhaps more force than necessary, his eyes glimmering. “Though Olivia likes to forget that part.”

Tyson visibly stiffened.

Why did Paul have to add that last line? It was almost as if he was staking claim to his territory.

Olivia turned back to Paul, her mind still racing. “How did you know I’d be here tonight?”

“Professional courtesy from the local police.” He leaned closer. “We need to talk, Liv. About the flowers.”

The familiar nickname grated on her nerves. “It’s Olivia, and anything you need to tell me can be said in front of Tyson.”

Paul’s gaze hardened slightly as if he didn’t want Tyson nearby. “Of course. I just thought you might prefer privacy for certain details.”

“Nope. Say what you need to say.” Olivia held firm.

With one more glance at Tyson, Paul muttered, “We think there’s a distinct possibility that The Admirer either had an apprentice or a copycat has emerged. My colleague with the FBI is talking about starting a task force since these murders cross state lines. It’s only a matter of time before the media catches wind of it.”

Olivia knew what that meant. “And my name will be mentioned.”

“I thought you should know.” Paul shrugged. “Before word gets out.”

This wasn’t the attention she wanted to build her career. No, she preferred to use her professional accomplishments.

But Paul was right—it was only a matter of time before this story made headlines.

And Olivia needed to be prepared for it. But was that even possible?

* * *

Tyson sensed Olivia was done with this conversation. He excused them then he took her elbow and led her away.

“Let’s mingle.”

She seemed to force a smile. “Let’s.”

Tyson and Olivia fell into an easy rhythm, bouncing conversations back and forth, often finishing each other’s thoughts. They danced and laughed.

In the process, they received more than a few raised eyebrows and knowing smiles.

Tyson could practically hear the questions floating through the room.

Are they a couple?

Since when have Olivia Montgomery and Tyson Stone been dating?

How did those two opposites ever get together?

As dinner was announced, Tyson placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to the table where their name cards rested. Acquaintances of Tyson walked beside them, chatting about fitness as they went.

Tyson couldn’t seem to escape from it. Everyone wanted his advice.

As they approached their table, Olivia frowned and wobbled.

Tyson reached for the sides of her arms to steady her.

What had stopped her in her tracks?

Olivia turned toward him, her voice quivering. “Tell me that’s not what I think it is.”

Tyson’s gaze shot to the table, and he saw them.

Four roses.