Before Sarah could reply, a familiar deep, smooth voice cut through the air behind her.
"That would be me."
Mabel frowned, as she stared at the tall handsome stranger.
Sarah turned sharply, her breath catching in disbelief.
There, standing in the golden light of the chandeliers, was Benicio.
He was dressed in a classic black tuxedo, the sharp cut of his suit emphasizing the effortless sophistication he exuded. His dark hair was neatly styled, his strong jaw, spotting a new look from what Sarah could remember–a neat closely trimmed beard, and his brown eyes; warm and knowing, locked onto Sarah's with quiet amusement.
Sarah barely registered the soft gasp that escaped her lips before she moved.
"Benicio!"
The next second, she was in his arms, the familiar warmth of
