Chapter 3
1215 Words
Selene’s entire body locked at the sound of Daniel’s voice outside the lounge.
For one terrible second, she could only stare at the door, her pulse pounding so hard it felt like it had climbed into her throat. She had come up here to escape him—to get five minutes to breathe before she had to decide whether to go back downstairs and face the wreckage of her engagement party.
Apparently, Daniel had no intention of letting her have even that.
“Selene!” he called again, closer this time. “Stop hiding and open the damn door.”
Humiliation flashed hot through her. Even now, even after she had walked in on him with Vanessa, he was still acting like she was the one causing trouble.
The man by the window set his glass down on the bar with a soft click.
“Is that him?” he asked.
His voice was calm, almost detached, which somehow made the panic inside her feel even sharper.
Selene turned to him. “You don’t need to get involved. I’ll leave through another door.”
“There isn’t one.”
Before she could answer, Daniel shoved the lounge door open hard enough that it hit the wall behind it.
He stopped when he saw she wasn’t alone.
Daniel looked disordered in a way Selene had never seen before. His white shirt was still partly unbuttoned, tie gone, dark hair messy from hands that had not been hers. The sight of him made anger flare fresh and ugly in her chest.
His eyes landed on Selene first, relief flashing over his face for half a second before it hardened into irritation. Then his gaze shifted to the stranger beside the bar.
“What the hell is this?” Daniel demanded.
Selene folded her arms, mostly so he wouldn’t see her hands trembling. “You followed me?”
“You stormed out of your own party.” Daniel stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “Do you have any idea what kind of mess you’ve created downstairs?”
Selene stared at him in disbelief. “I created?”
“Yes, you.” His voice lowered, but only because another man was present to witness him. “You left without saying anything. People are asking questions. My mother is trying to smooth things over, and you’re up here—” his eyes swept the room, the stranger, her bare ring finger, “—doing whatever this is.”
Selene felt something cold and furious settle inside her.
“You really want to do this?” she asked quietly. “After what I just saw?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. “I told you that was a mistake.”
“Don’t call it a mistake like you spilled wine on my dress.”
“It happened, Selene. I said I’m sorry.”
She laughed once, sharp and humorless. “No, you said I was dramatic.”
Daniel ran a hand through his hair. “Because you are being dramatic. You walked out before we could have a real conversation, and now you’re hiding in some stranger’s lounge while half the ballroom is wondering where the bride-to-be disappeared to.”
The bride-to-be.
Not anymore.
Selene’s gaze flicked to the ringless finger at her side. “I’m not your bride.”
Daniel’s expression darkened. “Don’t start this.”
“Start this?” Her voice rose despite herself. “You were sleeping with Vanessa upstairs while our guests toasted to us. You started this.”
The stranger said nothing, but Selene was suddenly aware of him in the room with painful clarity—his silence, his watchfulness, the way he had gone perfectly still beside the bar.
Daniel followed her glance and visibly stiffened, as if only now remembering that he had an audience.
“Who is this?” he asked.
The stranger did not answer.
Selene almost admired the audacity of that.
Daniel looked back at her. “Selene, enough. Come downstairs with me. We’ll deal with this privately.”
“No.”
His mouth flattened. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“Stop being childish.”
The words hit like a slap.
Selene opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the man by the bar finally moved.
It was not a dramatic movement. He didn’t slam a glass down or step forward in anger. He simply straightened to his full height and crossed the room with slow, measured confidence, like a man who never needed to rush because the world always adjusted around him.
He stopped beside Selene.
Not touching her. Not crowding her. Just standing there, close enough that the heat of him brushed against her bare arm.
Daniel went silent.
The stranger looked at him with an expression so calm it bordered on cruel.
“She’s with me,” he said.
The room went still.
Selene felt the words like a physical thing.
Daniel blinked. “Excuse me?”
The man didn’t raise his voice. “You seem to be upsetting her. I’d prefer you didn’t do it in my lounge.”
Daniel’s face darkened. “This is between me and my fiancée.”
The stranger’s gaze dropped to Selene’s left hand, where her engagement ring used to be, then returned to Daniel’s face.
“Is she?”
The question cut through the room like glass.
Selene’s pulse stumbled. Daniel looked at her hand too, as if only now registering the absence of the ring. His eyes flashed.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he snapped.
There was a beat of silence.
Then the stranger said, very softly, “Someone you don’t want to speak to that way.”
Daniel froze.
Recognition came a second later. Selene saw it happen in real time—the flicker of uncertainty, the shift in posture, the rapid recalculation. His gaze sharpened as he looked at the stranger more carefully now, taking in the suit, the watch, the cold confidence.
“Roman Vale,” Daniel said slowly.
Selene’s breath caught.
So she had heard correctly before.
This was Roman Vale.
Not just any rich stranger in a private hotel lounge, but Roman Vale—the billionaire investor whose name appeared in every financial publication in the country, the man known for swallowing failing companies whole and turning them into profitable empires.
And if rumors were true, one of the men circling Hart Consolidated.
- Writer
