I stripped off my t-shirt and yoga pants, stepped into the dress, and zipped it carefully up my side. The silk was coolagainst my skin, shifting with every movement and shimmering like water. I fiddled with my dark hair for a second, then settled for a sleek up-do. It took a while for the curls to settle, but after another tight tug, I managed to hold everything in.
I checked my reflection in the full-length mirror someone had propped against the wall.
The color brought out the tan in my skin. The cut emphasized curves I usually hid under practical blazers and sensible slacks. I looked like someone who belonged at a gala, confident, polished, a little bit dangerous.
I stood in the mirror and imagined Sebastian in front of me. “You owe me an apology,” I said to my reflection with the meanest scowl I could muster. But my blue eyes weren't presenting the level of intensity I wanted to get across.
I wasn’t this person. Sebastian somehow always managed to suck out the light from me, leaving me with a dark, angry sensation. I always seemed to lose myself when I was around him, overwhelmed by this primal urge to land verbal blow after blow.
Remember your mantra, Aria. You’re going to be calm tonight. Nothing nefarious is going to get in your way.
I studied my reflection one more time before I walked out of the office.
The gala started at seven.
By 7:30, I'd already worked through half the room. Smiled until my face hurt. Laughed at jokes that weren't funny. Listened to stories I'd heard a dozen times before.
Mrs. Whitmore cornered me near the silent auction to talk about her late husband Harold. Dr. Hilary wanted to discussexpanding the mobile clinic program. Congressman Holloway made promises about the education bill that I didn't believe for a second but pretended to find encouraging.
This was the job. Schmoozing. Charming. Extracting money from people who had too much of it.
I was good at this. I'd been doing it since I was sixteen, trailing after my parents at their events, learning to smile on command. It was second nature to me by now. Besides, I was effortlessly charming when I needed to be, especially when a certain someone wasn’t in the room.
I kept scanning the room. Telling myself I was checking on the caterers, the auction, the general flow of the evening. But my eyes kept drifting toward the entrance. Waiting.
Stupid. He was just a man. A cold, arrogant, infuriating man who happened to be the father of a girl I cared about. That was the only reason I was aware of him. The only reason my pulse jumped every time the door opened.
The only reason.
"You're doing it again," Nalani murmured, sliding up beside me with a champagne flute.
"Doing what?"
"Looking at the door like you're waiting for someone."
"I'm not waiting for anyone."
"Mmhmm." She took a sip of her champagne. "So you won't care that he just walked in?"
My head snapped toward the entrance before I could stop it.
Sebastian stood just inside the door.
He was wearing a black suit that fit him like it had been made specifically for his body, which it probably had. White shirt, no tie, the collar open just enough to seem casual while the cut of the jacket screamed money. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he'd run his fingers through it on the way in.
My eyes dropped to his jaw. It’d been a week since I’d seen his full profile. His usual clean shaven jaw was now covered with dark strands of hair. He actually did look good. Some may even say attractive. Not like the ogre that liked to yell out demands.
Evie stood beside him in a navy dress with a tulle skirt, her hair in a French braid. She looked uncomfortable, scanning the room with the wariness of someone who expected to be judged.
They made a striking pair. Father and daughter, matching in their formal elegance and their obvious discomfort with crowds.
I hated that I noticed how good he looked.
Sebastian's gaze swept the room with that particular intensity he brought to everything, assessing, calculating, cataloging. I watched it happen, watched him take in the venue, the guests, the careful details we'd spent months planning.
Then his eyes found mine.
The impact was physical. A jolt, low in my stomach. His expression didn't change—same controlled mask, same cool assessment—but something flickered in his eyes. Something hot. Something that had no business being there, not from a man who looked at me like I was an inconvenience at best and an enemy at worst.
