Page 51 of Taken Away

Aubrey turned toward the mirror.

And stopped.

The woman staring back at her did not look like someone who had spent the last twenty-four hours arguing with a surly mountain man and hand-feeding a grieving dog in leggings.

She looked elegant. Dangerously so.

The dark green dress skimmed over every curve without trying too hard—sleek, expensive-looking in a way that felt effortless instead of flashy. The color turned her green eyes darker. Her champagne-blonde hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder, the lighter strands catching warm light when she moved.

And the dress⁠—

The dress looked like Blackwood. Which was deeply irritating.

Savannah leaned back in her chair and sighed softly.

“Well,” she said. “Bennett’s doomed.”

“I could not care less what Bennett McCrae thinks of this dress. Or me.”

Savannah lifted an eyebrow over the rim of her glass, wholly unconvinced.

“I’m buying this for the allocation dinner,” Aubrey added, smoothing down the front of the dark green silk with unnecessary precision. “To look like I own half this estate. Not to give a surly mountain man a heart attack.”

Lulu smiled serenely, already reaching for the register.

“Honey, that man is about to forget his own name, and whether you care or not is just collateral damage.”

TWELVE

Blackwood Estate Winery

Tasting Room

By the time Aubrey walked into the tasting room, the evening was already underway.

Low golden light glowed beneath the pendant fixtures over the black walnut bar while soft jazz threaded under the hum of conversation and crystal. Beyond the towering windows, the mountains had turned dusky blue, vineyard rows disappearing into shadow.

The room carried itself with the quiet confidence of a place that had spent decades earning its name.

Everyone looked like they belonged there.

Men in sport coats and dark denim stood near tasting tables with glasses in hand. Women in silk blouses and tailored jackets laughed quietly near the windows overlooking the vines. Names from Mabel’s invoices floated through the air—Mercer Distribution, Asheville Beverage Group, Highland Table, The Overlook, Biltmore Wine Collective.

Savannah moved through the crowd with effortless confidence, a tray of glasses in one hand and the entire room’s rhythm in the other.

Apparently everyone at Blackwood was terrifyingly competent.

Then Bennett looked up.

He’d been leaning against the far end of the walnut bar, speaking with two men Aubrey vaguely recognized from earlier introductions. One hand rested loosely on a glass while the other disappeared into the pocket of his dark trousers beneath a charcoal suit coat.

No tie. Of course not. The open collar of his white shirt somehow made him look more dangerous, not less.

His gaze landed on her. And stopped for a second.

But it was enough.

The conversation around him seemed to fade as his eyes moved over her slowly—the dark green dress, her hair, the heels she already regretted wearing on mountain stone.