We had barely made it past the entrance when I spotted them.
Diego stood near the bar in the navy suit Sofia had probably picked out for him, one hand in his pocket and the other resting possessively at the curve of her waist. She wore red, bright and deliberate, laughing at something he said while her fingers toyed with his tie.
My stomach tightened, but the ache was duller than I expected, like pressing on a bruise that had already started to heal. I lifted my chin and turned away before either of them noticed me. Tonight was not about old ghosts.
Miro leaned close enough that his breath brushed my ear.
“Ignore the noise,” he murmured. “Focus on the people who matter.”
And then he was moving us forward, smooth as breathing, introducing me to a silver-haired shipping heiress who want
