I follow the sound of voices down the hall, each step bringing me closer to the person I’ve been simultaneously avoiding and obsessing over for four days. The sitting room door stands open, and I pause just outside, taking a second to compose myself.
“…exceptional record speaks for itself,” Dad is saying. “Daniela has nothing but praise for your work.”
“Thank you, sir.” Gray’s voice, low and controlled. “I appreciate the opportunity.”
I step into the doorway, and the conversation dies. Three heads turn toward me, but I only really see one.
Gray stands by the fireplace, tumbler of whiskey in one hand, the other tucked casually in his pocket. But there’s nothing casual about how he looks. He’s traded his usual all-black uniform for a midnight blue suit that fits him as if it was poured onto his body. The color makes his eyes look stormy, and the cut emphasizes his broad shoulders, tapering to a waist that I know firsthand is solid muscle. My mouth goes dry.
His eyes meet mine for a split second before sliding away, professional mask firmly in place. But not before I catch the flash of heat in them, the quick once-over that tells me he likes what he sees.
“Wyatt, darling.” Mom rises from her seat, crossing to me in a cloud of floral perfume. She kisses the air near my cheek. “You’re right on time for once.”
“Hey, Mom.” I force myself to look away from Gray. “Dad.”
Dad nods from his seat, swirling amber liquid in a crystal tumbler. “Son. You look well.”
“Thanks.” I shift my weight, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. “So does everyone, apparently.”
Gray’s mouth twitches, just slightly, at my awkward comment. Mom doesn’t notice, already steering me toward the bar cart.
“What would you like to drink?” she asks, reaching for a decanter.
“Just water, thanks.”
She pauses, bottle in hand. “Water? Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m fine. Just cutting back a bit.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise. “Good for you, son. Moderation is a virtue.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course he’d approve of something as boring as moderation. I glance at Gray, who’s watching me over the rim of his glass with an expression I can’t read.
“Mr. Holt was just telling us about his military service,” Mom says, handing me a glass of sparkling water with a slice of lime. “Fascinating stories.”
Gray shifts slightly, a tell I recognize as discomfort. “Just answering your questions, ma’am.”
“Please call me Monica.” Mom flashes her society smile. “Since you’re here as a guest tonight.”
An awkward silence follows. I take a sip of water, wishing it were something stronger after all. Gray studies the contents of his glass like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“So,” I say, searching for neutral ground, “how did everyone’s week go?”
Dad launches into a boring story about a merger, and I tune out, stealing glances at Gray. He stands perfectly still, attentive to my father’s droning, but I see his fingers flex around his glass when he feels my eyes on him. The memory of those fingers against my skin when he carried me out of the sauna, his commanding voice…I force the thoughts away before my body can react.
I’m so distracted I almost miss when the door opens again. Daniela steps in, elegant in a simple black dress that looks more expensive than Mom’s designer outfit.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, nodding to my parents before turning to Gray. Her eyes soften. “Gray.”
“Dani.” The nickname sounds intimate, and something ugly twists in my gut. They have history—not romantic, I don’t think, but deep. The kind of bond formed in life-or-death situations that I can’t hope to understand or compete with.
Not that I’m competing. That would be insane.
“Perfect timing,” Dad says, setting down his glass and turning to Gray. “Daniela and I were hoping we might have a word before dinner. In my office.”
My stomach drops. Gray’s eyes flick to mine, the same question in them that’s racing through my mind. Is this some kind of trap? Did someone see us at Apex? Did the staff report something? Has there been security footage all along? My palms begin to sweat.
“Of course,” Gray says, voice even. He sets his glass down and follows my father toward the door.
