Page 44 of Discretion at Its Finest

The ride to the gala was silent.

His hand squeezed the steering wheel in a death grip. Mine sat in my lap, fingers clenched, still burning where he’d touched me.

He didn’t look at me once. I didn’t blame him. I couldn’t even bear to turn and look at him either.

But somehow I did. I told myself to make it brief. Just a glance, but as I looked over at him, it was more than that.

His suit was black, tailored perfectly, of course. The fabric clung to him like it was made to obey, every line crisp, every detail deliberate. His tie was black, same as the shirt beneath it. No color, no softness. Only sharp edges and control, just like him.

The soft glow of the dashboard kissed his jawline, highlighting the sharp cut of it. The slight shadow of stubble. The furrow between his brows he didn’t even try to smooth.

He looked every bit the man I tried not to remember… too composed and too dangerous all at once. So devastatingly handsome in his dark suit, making the tempting shadows of the night envious of him.

And beautiful in a way that made me feel like I was losing my mind.

I hated that he looked like that.

Like he hadn’t unraveled me hours before or held my hand in the dark and made me believe… just for a moment, that there was still something left of us worth holding onto.

I turned my gaze back to the window before I lost whatever grip I had left.

Because if I kept looking at him… if I let myself remember how he used to look at me, I wouldn’t survive tonight.Not like I wasn’t barely holding on as it was…

By the time the car slowed in front of the venue, tensions were still thick. The valet opened my door for me and I stepped out, my heels meeting pavement. Lights flashed in the distance, cameras clicked, wealthy and influential voices murmured toward the entrance.

And then Reid stepped beside me in one fluid motion. Straightening his jacket. Offering his arm like it meant nothing.

This was just another stunt.

But I knew better. Because when I took it, and he pulled me flush to his side, his hand settled on the small of my back like it belonged there. And the entire world watched as I walked into the lion’s den, on the arm of the man I should’ve never let get this close again.

Plucking a champagne glass from the waiter walking by, I took a sip. People-watching was a pastime I would never get over. Watching the way they interacted, the different levels of society that connected in complex ways humans decided was normal. So many performances. So many masks. It should’ve felt superficial, but I knew first-hand what it felt like to put on a performance, to play a part.

For them, every conversation was a transaction and every smile held currency. Part of me simply wondered if they were growing tired of the act, feeling the weight of it sinking on them day after day, smiles getting harder and harder to hold in place. Because I was starting to.

“I hate these things.” The voice came from beside me, smooth and rich, with a hint of annoyance.

I turned to see a woman. She was beautiful, effortlessly so. She had the aura of a woman who didn’t need to chase attention because it simply followed her. Her dark hair was swept back into a curly updo. She couldn’t have been more than a few years older than me. Even if she was, she looked immaculate.

She swirled the champagne in her glass, her head shaking. “It’s exhausting, isn’t it?” she asked, raising her champagne to her lips. “The pretending. The ass-kissing. The same men trying to out-charm each other while their poor wives sit on the sidelines, waiting with smiles for it to be over.”

I let out a quiet breath of laughter. “You get used to it.”

“That’s the worst part,” she replied, glancing out over the crowd. “My husband always drags me to these events only to disappear after giving his speeches or finding his flock of businessmen.”

“Sounding all too familiar. I didn’t exactly have a say in coming tonight if we’re being honest.”

“If I’m not mistaken, all the women in this ballroom are partially here against their will. And if they’re not here against their will… it’s probably because they’reintheir partner’s will. “

I choked on a laugh. “God, that’s dark.”

“Dark,” she agreed smoothly, “but not entirely untrue.”

“…I’d much rather be home…” I said, half to myself. “These days, I’ve been so busy, and my son is starting to feel it.”

She smiled sadly, sympathy in her eyes, and it felt like in the moment, she knew exactly what I was feeling. The guilt. The push and pull between being everything for everyone and still feeling like not enough when you were trying enough as it was.

“How old?”