The gala was everything Emery hated - glass walls, polished marble floors, and people smiling with teeth they'd gladly sink into your back.
She wore the dress her father picked. Walked the carpet her mother once ruled. Smiled for photos that would make headlines by morning.
Holdings & Holt: A Powerhouse Merger in More Than Business.
She wanted to scream.
Instead, she sipped champagne, nodded politely, and tried not to count the hours until she could go home.
"Emery."
Grayson appeared at her side, sharp in his tux, hand light on her lower back. "Come meet someone."
She followed him through the crowd, her heels silent on the marble.
Then she saw him.
Beckett Rowe.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark eyes that didn't scan the room - they studied it. Black dress shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled just enough to show ink peeking from his forearms.
Nothing about him screamed elite.
And yet… he owned the space he stood in.
"Emery," Grayson said, placing a hand on Beckett's shoulder, "this is my best friend. Beckett, meet my fiancée."
Beckett's eyes met hers - and something in her stomach twisted.
Not lust. Not love.
Warning.
She offered her hand.
He took it.
Warm. Calloused. Intentional.
"Pleasure," he said, voice low. Rough. Like gravel smoothed just enough to sound like sin.
"Likewise," she replied, steady, practiced.
He held her gaze a beat too long.
And when he let go, it felt like losing something she didn't even know he'd taken.
Later That Evening
She caught glimpses of him through the crowd - never near Grayson, never lingering long.
At one point, she saw him on the balcony, cigarette burning between his fingers, staring out over the city like it had personally betrayed him.
She should've walked away.
Instead, she stepped outside.
He didn't look at her at first.
"Careful," he murmured. "Someone might think you're trying to escape."
She folded her arms. "Maybe I am."
He turned then, eyes catching the light - dark and unreadable.
"You don't want to be here."
"Neither do you."
He exhaled smoke into the night. "Touché."
She looked out at the skyline. "How long have you known Grayson?"
"Too long."
"You don't like him?"
He smirked. "Didn't say that."
"You didn't have to."
Silence stretched between them. Comfortable. Charged.
Then he spoke.
"You're too sharp for this world, Emery Holdings."
She blinked. "You don't know me."
His gaze met hers again. Slower this time. Heavier.
"No," he said. "But I will."