I cannot get caught.
Clutching the torn slit of my dress, I blow out a slow, measured breath. I’m trying to look casual while my heartbeat goes into overdrive for reasons I really don’t want to unpack right now. The only thing I like unpacking is a box of chocolates—sweet, reliable, and never out to ruin someone’s life. Unlike Ben, whose sudden reappearance is about five seconds from blowing everything up.
Focus.I force my attention to Sebastian, noting the suspicion furrowing his forehead. I need to get Ben out of here before his juvenile sense of humor gets us both in trouble.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” I say, injecting just the right amount of fluster into my voice. I turn to Ben and grit out, “Mr. Millerand I didn’t mean to interrupt your meeting.”
Before I can herd Ben back to the gala where I can demand answers from him, the first man’s voice cuts through the room.
“Are you leaving, Mr. Miller?”
It’s deep. Authoritative. Clear. It takes me a moment to realize—he thinks he’s talking to Ben.
“No, sir, Mr. Ramirez,” Ben answers smoothly. “I’m ready when you are.”
I nearly flinch at the name. Ramirez.TheRamirez.
Sebastian hesitates for a second before giving Ben a clipped nod and stepping stiffly aside. “Follow me, Mr. Miller,” he says, his voice flat, before leading Ben to the conference table.
Wait. What? Ben knows these guys? And they know him? No—notBen.Craig Miller.The confusion must be plain on my face, but if Sebastian notices, he doesn’t show it. He just turns to me, cool and dismissive.
“You should return to the party, Cybil.”
Heat surges up my neck. Dismissed. Under any other circumstance, I wouldn’t think twice about Sebastian’s power play. I’m not part of this meeting. I’m not even supposed to be up here. But tonight’s different—and Sebastian’s words slice through old scars I thought I had healed. Vulnerability I haven’t felt since the last time I saw Ben lances through me, sharp and unwelcome.
Before I can move, Mr. Edmond speaks up, smooth and unbothered. “Cybil, would you mind finding Margot Stanton downstairs? She’s handling the Edison project, and I’d like to set up a meeting as soon as my schedule allows.”
His is a polite dismissal, wrapped in an assignment. But the weight of too many old memories pressing against my chest makes his request sting. I answer in a voice that barely sounds like mine. “Yes, of course, Mr. Edmond.”
Sebastian shifts his attention to Ben and Mr. Ramirez. “Shall we begin?”
I have no choice but to leave. Doing anything else would only raise flags and bring more unwanted attention to myself. Who am I kidding?More flags are waving now than when the marching band takes the football field for the halftime show. But I’m the only one who sees them.
Panic swells inside me. What is Bennett Bradley doing here? Why is he in a meeting with my boss, Sebastian, and a man named Mr. Ramirez? And why do they believe he’s Craig Miller?
I need answers.
With a shaky breath, I subtly unclasp my clutch and offer a polite, empty smile to the room. Then, as I step toward the door, I let my heel catch the edge of the rug. I stumble forward, grabbing at a side table while my clutch spills across the floor. Again. Wallet, phone, bobby pins, and the tube of lipstick scatter like confetti. Perfect.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to sound mortified.
Mr. Edmond moves to help, but I wave him off. “I’ve got it,” I insist, crouching as gracefully as I can manage in this dress.
Ben doesn’t move. He just watches, hands in pockets, like he’s enjoying the show. And it’s a harsh reminder of exactly why I never wanted to see him again. I scoop up my things—everything butthe lipstick—and shove them back into my bag. Mr. Edmond stretches his hand to help me up.
“One too many glasses of champagne, I guess.” I give a sheepish smile as he pulls me to my feet.
I haven’t touched a drop of champagne. But between nearly getting caught earlier and Ben’s unexpected reappearance, I feel drunk on stress.
Ben’s eyes track me, a tiny frown pulling between his brows. I ignore him and the rest of the men watching me as I back out of the library. The door closes behind me and I exhale for the first time in minutes. Finally, something went right.
I slip my phone from my clutch. With one tap, I activate the recording device hidden inside the lipstick. Wherever I am in the museum, it’ll transmit the audio and upload it straight to Athena’s server. I don’t have to be anywhere near that room. Or Ben. Ever again.
A small, smug smile tugs at my lips.Missionaccomp—
“Cybil.”
I freeze.
