The lights above the ballroom glittered like a thousand distant stars, but none of it mattered to Celeste. Not the champagne flute cooling in her hand. Not the stunning silver silk gown clinging to every curve. Not the crowd of billionaires, celebrities, and politicians schmoozing around her, smiling their crocodile smiles. Because somewhere out there in the shadows, Veronica Hale was waiting. A ghost from a pastCeleste thought she had buried long ago.
It was like acid in her chest, burning slow, eating away at the armor she’d built brick by brick over the years..
She searched the room instinctively — and there he was, cutting through the crowd like he owned the air itself, moving with that lethal, coiled grace that made people either want to worship him or get the hell out of his way.
