Page 21

Stepping outside, I breathe in the sweet fragrance of flowers, the tightness in my chest slowly dissipating. I continue on the cobblestone path leading to the courtyard where Steven and Grace will have their ceremony in an hour, followed by a dinner reception at the rooftop lounge.

Unlike most high society weddings, they’ve opted to have a smaller, intimate gathering with close family and friends in attendance instead.

Laughter reaches my ears and I stop under a stone arch lining the hidden courtyard. Guests are dressed in their finest—most are already seated facing a gothic-style dark gazebo in the center of the space.

Lush greenery and ivy line the walls. Ancient oak trees with their gnarly branches hang low, providing shade for the guests. The perfume of the flowers is stronger here, with the courtyard being surrounded by arrangements of burgundy roses and orchids, the colors matching our gowns.

But what catches my attention isn’t the beautiful space, which Grace once told me is the very courtyard Steven once stood in under the pouring rain to convince her to give him a chance.

It’s the children.

Ainsley, from ABTC, is grinning with Maddy while they’re practicing a dance with five adorable little girls in cotton candy pink tutus. Steven has sponsored a few scholarships for underprivileged dancers at various ballet companies—he tells me it’s his way of taking care of the other little Graces and Taylors in the world. As a thank you, the girls and the kids are performing at the reception.

“Hands up! Yes! That’s perfect. Stop wiggling your butts.” Ainsley’s words are met with giggles, and my lips hike up in a smile.

“Maddy and I won’t call you guys graceful ballerinas anymore. We’re calling you all dancing elephants instead.”

The kids laugh harder and shake their bottoms in the air. Maddy barks out a laugh and shoves Ainsley on the shoulder. “It’s your fault, Ains! Bad influence! What will Mr. Kingsley think?”

Ainsley laughs and pokes her friend back. “I’m a bad influence, but you love me for it!”

The smile slips from my lips as I remember Alexis saying something very similar that night.

“Do we really have to go to the lounge? They won’t even let us in, right? I’m sixteen.” I stared at Alexis curling her fiery hair into perfect waves, all the while humming a song on repeat.

She glanced at me in the mirror and winked. “It’s a celebration! And unofficial networking with the suits. You know we’re expected to attend. Don’t worry, there’s no age limit tonight. It’ll be fun! Maybe you can take some photos to store in that memento box of yours in your secret stash.”

“It’s not a secret if you know about it.” I grin. But of course she knows about my hiding spot in the rooftop studio. She keeps trying to take over it, saying she has ballet secrets and dreams she wants to embed within the floors of the company too.

“It’s because you love me, Tay Tay. You won’t say it, but I know you do!” she singsonged.

I laughed at her ridiculousness as excitement about the night of adventures ahead filled my veins. Grace and I were too poor to go out, so a night on the dime of the ballet company would be a treat. I eyed my reflection in the mirror—my black hair also curled in voluminous waves, my makeup natural except for a red lip—Alexis always told me my gray eyes and delicate features didn’t need tons of makeup to stand out. Show everyone your beauty , she’d say.

“Fine! But let it be said if anything happens, it’s all your fault. You’re such a bad influence.” My lips twitched, but I did my best to maintain a straight face.

Alexis laughed and threw her head back, her hair a fiery brand in the air. “But you love me for it, bestie.”

The children’s joyful shrieks draw my attention back to the present and a pinch tugs at my chest. I blow out a deep breath and look at a decorative gilded mirror hanging on the stone wall. My signature thick eyeliner, deep purple lipstick, and a nose piercing.

I bet she wouldn’t recognize me now.

Then, I stare at roses adorning the space. My heart pinches at the sight of my favorite flowers, all their thorns shorn off. I trace the smooth stems with my fingers.

No one likes the thorns. People only want the beautiful flower.

Suddenly, my skin prickles to attention and I sense a heated intensity directed my way. Looking up, I see him mingling with the boys inside the gazebo.

Charles stands tall to the right of Steven, who’s laughing at something Ryland is saying. Maxwell smirks next to them, his hands in his pockets. I barely notice my brothers, my attention drawn to the golden-haired archangel with the heart of a devil.

My eyes drift up from his shiny leather shoes, tailored pants highlighting his long legs, to his muscular torso straining against the confines of his black tux jacket. It’s like the tux was invented for him to showcase the ideal masculine physique. My skin heats as I continue my perusal and I know the exact moment when he turns his attention to me again, because every nerve ending in my body comes alive.

Swallowing, I drag my gaze up to his face and I find his arresting eyes snared on mine, and even from this distance, I can feel the glacial chill radiating from them. My first instinct is to scowl at him or look away. To ignore the man who seems to be the only person seeing the dark storms plaguing my mind.

But I can’t. Perhaps it’s the turbulent emotions consuming me all day, the feeling of being invisible despite being surrounded by people, or the heady love in the air—a stark contrast to the loneliness carving a bottomless hole inside me.

He’s caught me in a weak moment.

In this moment, I don’t want to lose the only attention directed at me, the woman behind the forced smiles. The person who’s forced to confront a future she’ll never have—a collision of bittersweet sentiments. Dreams shattered. Futures altered.

I want to be seen.

My breath stutters, my heart quickening, and soon I’m dizzy. Disoriented. Like I’ve been staring at the sun for too long.

His eyes darken, and I see his throat rippling as he swallows.

I have given myself away.

And I don’t want to give any more of my broken pieces away to anyone, least of all him.

Charles cocks his head to the side, just slightly, barely noticeable. The afternoon sun shines a beam on him, his hair glowing. This infuriating man looks too damn hot for his own good.

He furrows his brows, his gaze intent, and a muscle pulses in his jaw.

“Are you okay?” he mouths. He takes a small step toward me.

I see sincerity in his eyes and can almost hear him asking me the question with concern in his voice, and it makes me uncomfortable, the tightness in my chest worsening.

I feel raw and exposed under his scrutiny.

My heart is now drumming up a storm inside me.

He takes another step toward me.

“Charles?” Maxwell asks before following Charles’s gaze and turning his head my way. My brother’s eyes darken with concern.

Quickly, I look away and force my lips into a bright smile. “Girls, how’s the dance coming along?” I holler to Ainsley and their group.

“Something is coming all right! A herd of elephants!”

The girls cackle, and I hurry over to join them, ignoring the penetrating heat of Charles’s gaze.