Page 112

My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst out.

I wanted to run.

Now. Immediately. Get out of here.

But my legs were lead. I couldn't move.

And then—

His gaze landed on me.

Chapter 28

Marcelo

My heart seized like someone had slammed a rusted sledgehammer into my chest.

There, in the center of that crowded halo of light, stood Ruby.

Four years. One thousand four hundred and sixty days.

The New Designers Award—this whole scene packed with fresh-faced kids, pompous small talk, and cheap champagne—was exactly the kind of thing I'd avoided for four years. Because it reminded me of her.

That girl who used to clutch her sketchbook, eyes burning with pure love for fabric.

But half an hour ago, something made me change my mind. I just wanted to see. Some masochistic impulse driving me to piece together traces of her through these strangers' designs—her aesthetic, how she might have grown. Any goddamn thread connecting back to her.

Never imagined fate would drop her right in front of me.

Joy and terror detonated in my chest, violent enough to tear apart this shell I'd been living in for four years.

But before the rush faded, another shock hit harder, shattering what was left of my self-control.

She'd changed.

She wore a white satin mermaid gown, vintage sweetheart neckline hugging that devastating pale skin. The Wild Rose tattoo blazed on her right collarbone, thorns and all. She wasn't hiding her curves anymore—that killer hourglass figure spilled out under the liquid shimmer of fabric.

The girl from Hoboken who'd hidden in oversized hoodies, eyes full of doubt and shame—she was gone. This woman stood straight-backed, chin high, radiating a light so pure and powerful it hurt to look at.

Across the shifting crowd and crystal chandelier glow, our eyes collided.

I caught the shock that flashed through those amber eyes, saw them contract violently.

But the panic lasted less than half a second.

Then frost swept over everything, smooth and impenetrable.

She looked away. Continued her conversation like she'd just glanced at a stranger. Some random judge.

But I couldn't tear my eyes off her.

I grabbed a bourbon from a passing tray and cut through the crowd toward her.

People moved aside. My vision locked on her. With every step, I could hear my blood hammering through my veins.

I stopped a foot away.

Four years, and she was more stunning than memory allowed. Even the faint cold orange blossom scent in her hair worked like poison on my fraying control. My fingers trembled at my sides. My voice came out rough as gravel. "Long time, Ruby."