The farther they moved into the gala, the heavier the atmosphere became. It was far from oppressive, never that. The Ashford’s would never allow anything so inelegant.
Instead, the pressure existed beneath the surface of the evening, woven carefully through every conversation and lingering glance. It was hidden beneath polished smiles and champagne crystal. Alex could feel it in the way people watched Callan, in the way executives subtly repositioned themselves when he entered their orbit. Even in the way entire conversations seemed to bend around his presence without him ever asking them to.
Power lived here. Old power. The kind that had existed long before either of them were born and expected to remain long after everyone else was gone. And now she was standing in the center of it bes
