It infuriated me.
“You’re trying to change my mind about you,” I said quietly.
“No,” he said. “I’m trying to show you who I actually am.”
“That sounds like something a liar would say.”
“Maybe.” His voice was low. Honest. “But I’m not asking you to trust me. Just… dance.”
I looked at him then, at the quiet weight he carried, at the way he didn’t pull away from my anger or my fire. I felt small in his large hands, fragile but not in a way that I was afraid he’d break me... but in the way that felt it was okay to be fragile in this man’s hands… in his care.
And that terrified me.
“You’re gonna start rumours dancing with the enemy,” I said.
“Let ’em talk.”
The music played on, and he pulled me a little closer. My pulse tripped, furious with myself for letting him.
Across the room, I saw Jack arrive. He smiled when he caught my eye, but it didn’t quite reach. People turned with him, a ripple of recognition. A few whispered. Remi walked over to greet him. They hugged, but it didn’t look right—her body stiff, his arms loose, like both were playing roles they didn’t quite believe.
I looked back at Harlan and saw his grey eyes watching me. Watching everything.
“You don’t give up easily, do you?” I asked.
He shook his head once, eyes steady. “Not on things that matter.”
The words dug under my ribs. They didn’t sound like flirtation. They sounded like a promise.
I hated that he said that. Hated how much I wanted to believe him.
But tonight wasn’t about belief.
It was about showing up.
And we both had.
CHAPTER 20
HARLAN - SIN WRAPPED IN SILK
She felt different in my arms than I thought she would.
Not delicate. Not stiff or guarded like I half-expected. Ava Sinclair moved like she didn’t owe the world an apology, and maybe that was what pulled me in most.
That and the fact that she looked like sin wrapped in silk.
When she first walked in and took my breath away, the first thing I thought of was the officer who had once called her a fire sprite. He hadn’t been wrong. But standing this close, I knew that description didn’t even scratch the surface.
Her blonde hair fell in soft waves instead of her usual chaos of curls, catching the light like it had been spun just to test my patience. The red dress clung in a way that left nothing to imagination and everything to temptation. Ava may have been tiny, but in that dress, she was all woman, every inch of her daring me to forget the rest of the damn room.
The music swelled and faded behind us, some soft acoustic cover of an old rock song. Her hand rested against my shoulder, fingers light but certain, like she hadn’t fully decided whether she wanted to steady herself or shove me off the floor.
I wouldn’t have blamed her for either.
She was looking over my shoulder, jaw tight. I followed her gaze.
And there she was.
