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Elena said it was the perfect dress. And I completely agreed.

In the mall, the second my eyes fell on it, I knew it was the one. How could it not be? I’d gone into the fitting room to try it on and stepped out with the brightest beams.

The maxi bodycon dress draped effortlessly, hugging my body in all the right places like a second skin. It was a bold, shimmering blood red, featuring a low neckline that revealed a glimpse of cleavage. The material was soft yet structured, with a daring slit that rose high above my knee. I had worried about showcasing my waist curves and full hip dips, but no dress in my wardrobe instilled confidence like this one.

I spent the money; I selected it. And it was just flawless. Modest, but not too modest. The best pick for Amelia’s thirty-fifth birthday party. A standard VIP formal event, and I’d gotten an invite. To me, that was a very big deal.

I went all out with my hair. I used the hot iron to shape each roll into full, shiny body waves, arranging some over my shoulder and leaving the rest dangling behind my back. My makeup was at the barest minimum, with dark eyeliner, mascara, and only a bold red lipstick to complement the dress. Elena had preferred a pair of strappy heels, but I picked the suede red pointy stilettos to finish the look.

And all night, from the moment my boyfriend drove by my house to pick me up, I’d held my breath, waiting for the smallest compliment.

“Nate,” I whispered, clutching his arm tightly. “Nathan, you’re doing it again.”

“Crap. Babe,” he murmured, keeping the phone aside only long enough to mutter another tasteless apology before leaning in to brush a kiss on my cheek. “I’m sorry. It’s important, but I’ll be done with it soon so we can enjoy the night together.”

It was the third time he said the exact same thing since we arrived at Amelia’s grandiose celebration hall over an hour ago, and all the while, there’d been no improvement. He hadn’t taken a full minute to notice me, even once.

The soft glow of his phone screen reflected in his eyes as he checked it once more, his fingers quick, his mouth in a worried line.

As always, he looked dashing. The plain black tuxedo was a perfect fit, and I’d smiled when I noticed he trimmed his taper fade. He’d made an effort to be a charming plus one, and I was appreciative. But a quiet ache settled in my chest because he wasn’t present.

I forced a smile to my face and advised myself to look away.

Golden lights illuminated the hall and shimmered over the elegantly set tables. At the corner, there was a long banquet table dressed in ivory linen, gleaming with fine china and crystal glassware. Roses, pale pink and white, spilled from delicate vases. On another table, there was a wine fountain, and beside it were delicious-looking appetizers. If Nathan was feeling up to it, I might have coaxed him to accompany me to that table.

The air carried rising laughter, and I tried to relax under the sound of soft music that blended with conversation. Until a group of men trooped in through the doors and a sudden hush fell over the hall. The music kept on playing, but almost no one was speaking.

From a distance, I saw them but couldn’t make out their faces. The men were tall and huge, all dressed in black suits. Most of them spread into every corner, unsmiling, while a few stayed together in a small circle.

From the center of the hall, where she greeted guests, Amelia noticed the eerie stillness that followed the men’s entrance and hurriedly went over to meet them. They talked amongst themselves, and when Amelia laughed a little too loudly, the music tempo picked up speed, and conversation resumed like everyone hadn’t been quiet only seconds ago.

The small circle moved with Amelia, and going by the frequent gestures she made with her hands, I guessed she was showing them to their seats, which were not far away from mine and Nathan’s table.

They drew closer, and their faces became clearer. Positioned between them was a woman in a short, bespoke silver dress. She turned to one of the men, and that was when I recognized the man at the forefront. The air suddenly shifted. Hot and cold shivers ran tremors to my toes.

Miron.

What was I expecting? Amelia was his cousin. It wasn’t strange for him to be here. But it was strange that my heart stuttered when I caught sight of how devastatingly handsome he looked.

Nathan was right beside me, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming.

He, too, had gotten a hair trim, and the blond strands seemed to dazzle brighter under the golden lights. The shadows enhanced the sharp contours of his face, and the suit…God! The stylish three-piece had to be tailor-made for him alone.

Miron stood tall and proud, with his jaw set and eyes narrowed heatedly when Amelia chuckled. Knowing her, she’d made a joke that didn’t go down well with him.

The girl in the middle clung to his arm, her diamond bracelet catching the light as she tossed her black hair over one shoulder. That must have been his fiancée, Alina. The one he was to marry.

She was beautiful in the effortless way of girls who had never known inconvenience. Polished and perfect, she was a walking, breathing display of wealth.

And yet, Miron wasn’t looking at her.

As if he sensed someone watching across the room, his gaze lifted on instinct, and his eyes found me instantly.

The noise around me dulled to a hum at the unexpected impact—a clash of blue and hazel and heat dancing around my neck and cheeks.

Amelia was talking. Alina was laughing. But Miron kept his eyes locked on mine.

My breath hitched as his gaze traveled slowly and deliberately down the length of me, then back up. His gaze burned my bare skin, from the shock on my face to my heaving cleavage and the fair glimpse of the thigh that was displayed through the slit. There were a thousand unspoken things pressed into that stare. I felt it.

And swallowed hard.

I was insane for allowing crazy thoughts to pop up in my head about this man. He was my client, and my boyfriend was seated right next to me. Somehow, my heart was screaming, “It doesn’t matter!”

I was allowed to look, to crush on, but not touch. He was attractive, true. But we were both off limits, I reminded myself.

Regardless, tension crackled heavily, like high-voltage electricity. And for one unbearable, heart-pounding second, I refused to look away.

***

The first notes of the waltz swirled through the air, and around me, couples turned toward the dance floor. The room was quickly shifting into motion, and I knew what that meant: Nathan and I would have to file to the dancefloor.

Across the room, I already spotted Amelia and, surprisingly, Miron making their way toward our table. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking at me and appeared to be paying rapt attention to his chattering cousin.

I held my breath and sat patiently, counting the seconds with my fingers, before eagerly shifting closer to Nathan.

“Nate.” I tapped him. “We have to go dance. Amelia’s coming here to practically drag us out of the table because we’ve been isolated for far too long. We’re not mingling. And I really want to mingle.”

I could count the number of things Nate and I said to each other the whole night. Whatever was going on with that phone was obviously more important than having a decent thirty-minute conversation with me, and his lack of zeal affected me greatly.

It took a moment for him to raise his head, and when he finally did, the damn phone buzzed in his hand.

Hastily scrambling to his feet, Nathan flashed an apologetic smile and kissed my cheeks. “Cupcake, I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I just…I really have to take this. Work-related stuff.”

The hurt that sliced through my chest wrapped me like a vise, constricting the airflow in my lungs. I sputtered, blinked back tears, and watched his back disappear in the throng of people before two shadows fell over me.

“Was that Nathan?” Amelia craned her neck to follow his movement. “Is he leaving?”

Conveniently ignoring the god-like human by her side, I rose to my feet, literally fighting the tears back while leaning in for a hug. “No, he’s not. It was an important call he had to take. Happy Birthday, Dr. Greystone.”

“ Amelia, Hazel. We’ve talked about this. And thank you.” She offered a warm smile. If she noticed the shimmer of tears in my eyes, she didn’t mention it. “Doesn’t matter, though. I’m taking you to that dancefloor.”

“Oh, Amelia. Please, I don’t really feel like it.”

She caught my hand before I could slip away. “Oh, come on, it’s my birthday. You’ve worked so hard at the Clinic, and you have been seated here all night. I’m not allowing you to sit this one out.”

“I don’t have a partner.”

“We’ll find you one.”

“No need. I’ll take her.”

Miron had his long arm extended and his wide palm stretched, with those unreadable stormy eyes on me.

Amelia threw a cautionary stare at her cousin before I did. “ You want to dance with her?”

“Did I have water in my mouth?”

“And Alina? Are you sure she wouldn’t mind?”

“Coincidentally, she’s on a call with her father. It could take a while.”

I glanced between both of them. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” they answered at the same time.

“Great.” It turned out that being attractive wasn’t the only similarity they shared.

“Okay, then.” Amelia moved me closer to Miron, practically shoving me into his chest. “His willingness to stand in for your boyfriend is unusual, but I assure you, he isn’t a terrible dancer. You are in good hands. Move along now. I have to go say hi to some guests.”

Good hands.

I remembered the burning sensation his hands left on my wrist when he’d dragged me out of The Tavern and tried to ignore the warm fuzzies that erupted in my stomach when his fingers covered mine as I followed him to the dancefloor. His grip was firm but not unkind.

And as he led me into the first sweeping turn, my heart leaped, and the world narrowed to just us, keeping him in focus.

I should have been focused on my steps and the pattern of the dance. Instead, I was keenly aware of the way his hand rested against my back, the way his sturdy frame kept me grounded. I wasn’t sure if to hold on tighter or step away.

Our movement flowed in smooth sync with the music, and he moved with certainty, guiding me effortlessly. Amelia was understating when she said he wasn’t a terrible dancer. Miron was an excellent dancer.

His eyes shifted from gazing at the distance to scorching my face. “I like your dress. You look good in it.”

“That’s a shocker.” Not sure how to react to that, I chewed on my lips and fought the blush rising to my cheeks. “I didn’t know you gave compliments.”

The music swelled, and we flowed together seamlessly. His gaze drifted again to the crowd with a crease between his brows, and I thought I felt his fingers twitch behind me. “Years ago, I learned how to. I didn’t know you don’t take compliments well.”

I ducked, burying my face a few inches from his chest and overpowering fresh scent. “I’m sorry. Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Thank you.”

We swayed, moved our feet in rhythm, and twirled.

It was the first time I’d seen him since I ran out of his car like a bandit in tears after confessing to being a virgin. The ground might have as well opened to swallow me up because the shame was real.

“You skipped your session this week. What happened?”

His shoulder moved. “I knew I’d see you here,” came his flat response, and my ears were suddenly perked.

Did he? Was there the smallest possibility that Miron was looking out for me tonight? If yes, why did the thought make me giddy?

I kept my eyes pinned on the black vest beneath his jacket. “No, you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” A flicker of a smile passed his mouth. “But you’re here now. You can ask me all the questions you want.”

“What are you saying?” For the first time that evening, a genuine chuckle left my lips. “We can’t have a session at my boss’s birthday celebration party. That will be unprofessional.”

“Who set the rules?”

“The profession.”

“So, you need the four walls of an office before you help your client?”

I smiled up at him, though his eyes were elsewhere. “I thought you didn’t need helping? Is someone having a different perspective on therapy?”

What was I thinking, teasing him when he was obviously going to ward off my attempts and ignore me? The smile melted off my face.

“Miron, you can’t skip the next session. Or the one after that. We’re aware of what would happen if the reports don’t reflect participation.” During the briefing, Amelia made sure to emphasize all the things that could go wrong if he didn’t follow the court order.

“I don’t respond well to external cautions, and I am not good with taking orders, Miss Sinclair.”

“It wasn’t an order but a fact.” Then, it occurred to me that I’d made a passive observation. Not once since our encounter had Miron said my name. He was only being formal, as he should have been. But I had somehow convinced myself that we’d moved past the formalities.

“Will you ever call me by my name?”

“I will. When the time is right.”

“What does that mean?”

He looked over my shoulder, and the shutters were back down, though they’d never really been up. “So, the boy in the suit. That was Nathan. Your boyfriend?”

Somehow, while Miron and I twirled under the golden lights and bickered back and forth, I managed to forget that my boyfriend accompanied me to the party. I felt awful.

“Yes— wait ,” I’d started to respond and paused. “He’s not a boy.”

“He looks like one.”

“And what do you look like?”

Thick eyebrows rose on his forehead, his lips curving just high enough to form a suggestive grin. “You really want me to answer that?”

He didn’t have to; the answer was clear as day. He looked like a man and felt like one, the entire solid length and breadth of him pressed up against me. He had lean, muscular arms, sturdy hands, and a powerful build. I secretly wondered about his exercise routine and diet plan.

Miron didn’t look as young as Nathan, but every time I got close to him, it was harder to remember the seventeen-year gap between us. The reason?

Funny, but we clicked.

Not initially, at first. But in an odd way, even with all the tantrums and steam blowing out of proportion, I started to realize we did. His presence came with the power to rile me up and calm me down. He was the venom and the antidote. The plague and the cure.

He had walked through those doors and into my office like a raging inferno, ready to burn down anything on his path, but looking at him now, he seemed…different. Maybe the light touched his softer edges, or I misjudged him because of his current composure. Or maybe he was not what I, and the rest of society, pegged him to be.

“I saw how he neglected you tonight. Left you sitting there to look at everything else, and before you say shit, no, I wasn’t watching you; your loneliness was glaring to everything that had eyes. Not even boys do that. Only idiots.”

I took back everything I thought. I was wrong. Miron was a jerk.

Tearing my eyes away, I mumbled loud enough for him to hear. “Nathan’s not an idiot. He just has a lot of school and work stuff to deal with. You probably wouldn’t understand.”

“Says the girlfriend of the man who is distant, both at home and away. Seems like you’re still devoted to staying loyal to the absentee, Miss Sinclair.”

I met his gaze, unfazed. “Still engaged to a woman who’s doubling your work shifts?”

His smirk twitched, only slightly, before he spun me—too fast, too sharp, making me catch my breath.

“Careful, Miss Sinclair.” He pulled me close, and his warm breath tickled my ear when he said, “You almost sound jealous.”

The music stopped, and the dance ended. I was saved by the bell because, otherwise, I had absolutely nothing to say to that, except reacting like I had a bad case of red skin. From above his shoulder, across the room, I saw his fiancée, Alina, and she was seething.

We stepped apart, and without waiting to hear a word from him, I turned on my heels, making my way back to my table. Only to find Nathan waiting with his hands folded across his chest and a muscle throbbing on his neck. I had never seen him so pissed.

Absolutely superb.

What a beautiful night it was.