"I don't work here," I say, turning back toward Keira.
Dammit.
I scan the room, my pulse ticking up slightly.
She was just there. Now she's disappeared.
There's no sign of her.
I move quickly, threading through the crowd toward the stage. I turn left. Right. Nothing.
I see a hallway the staff are using and head down it.
Scanning, searching. I'm just about to turn back, but I see something red through a window of a back door.
I move faster, pushing a waiter out of my way.
I open the door and find her standing alone on a back balcony, a glass of champagne in hand. The city stretches out below her, lights glittering against the darkening sky.
She's wide open. Easy target.
No cameras. No cover.
My jaw tightens.
I walk toward her, and she briefly glances back at me and sips her champagne casually, like she's not standing in the middle of a kill zone.
"Relax, soldier," she says without turning around. "I needed air."
The cool evening breeze brushes past me, and I notice her skin prickles with goosebumps.
"Not everything is a joke, you know."
She scoffs. "You sound like Callum."
"He's not wrong. You don't take this seriously."
She turns, one eyebrow arched, her green eyes simmering in the low light.
"You don't know me."
"I know you're reckless."
"And you're controlling."
She steps closer, the champagne tilts in her hand, but she doesn't spill a drop.
"You think because you've been following me around for two weeks, you understand me?" she says, her voice sharp. "You don't."
"I understand you're going to get yourself killed if you keep pulling stunts like this and disappearing on me."
"Stunts?" She laughs. "This is my life, Octavian. It's the game I play because I have to. Because if I stop, the whole fucking thing falls apart. And no one, not Callum, not Declan, not even Daddy,has to clean up that mess but me. So fucking relax, this is what I do."
"And standing alone on an open balcony with no cover? That's what you do too?"
"Oh God, who the hell thinks about shit like that? I'm fine."
"You're vulnerable."
