Dangerous Reunion

The Return

I swore I’d never come back to Manhattan. Yet here I am outside the Grand Marquis Hotel, heart hammering against my ribs. I clutch a gold-embossed invitation—Hart Enterprises Charity Gala. Of course, it had to be his event. Fate truly is cruel.

Inside, the ballroom glitters with crystal chandeliers. Women in elegant gowns and men in tailored suits swirl past in a blur of luxury I barely notice. Each step brings me closer to the past I abandoned. Keep it together, Elena. I smooth my midnight-blue dress and force a smile as I slip through the crowd.

I scan every face, bracing for the one I both dread and ache to see. I snag a glass of champagne and take a sip, hoping to calm the tremor in my hand. It doesn’t. Five years away, and I’m back in his world. If Damon is here—and of course he is—I need to stay in control.

“Enjoying the party?” A low, familiar voice murmurs behind me. My body freezes. I turn and nearly collide with a broad chest before I step back.

Damon. He’s right here. Air jams in my lungs as I take him in. He’s as striking as ever—tall, commanding, perfectly composed in a charcoal suit. His eyes, steely gray and piercing, lock onto mine. It feels like a lightning bolt just hit me. I pray he can’t hear my heart pounding.

“It’s… lovely,” I say, relieved when my voice comes out steady. I lift my chin, determined not to show weakness.

His mouth curves in a facsimile of a smile. “I’m surprised you came.” He plucks a champagne flute from a passing waiter, all cool elegance. “When I saw your name on the guest list, I thought it was a mistake. Elena Carter, back in Manhattan—at my gala, no less. What are the odds?”

Each word is casual, and each word is a weapon. I swallow against the tightness in my throat. “Believe it or not, I’m not here for you,” I answer quietly. “My firm is a sponsor. I’m just doing my job.”

“Just doing your job?” he echoes, voice silk over steel. He steps a fraction closer, eyes roaming over me. “So, nothing here is about me, hmm?”

My skin prickles under his scrutiny, but I hold my ground. “Not everything is about you,” I reply, managing a cool tone.

He moves closer still, till the smoky hint of his cologne suffuses my senses. “You’ve been gone a long time,” he says low. “You don’t just walk back into my life without consequences.”

The word consequences hangs in the air, sharp and cold. I feel it like a punch to the gut. An image flashes—his face in the rain the night I left—but I force it away. Not now.

“I didn’t come back to fight,” I whisper, my gaze darting around. A few guests glance at us in passing. “I don’t want any trouble, Damon.”

He follows my glance and then, with a calm smile meant for our audience, extends his hand to me. “Dance with me.”

My heart skips. I didn’t expect that. Still, I place my hand in his, knowing I can’t refuse without causing a scene. “...All right.”

His fingers close around mine, warm and firm. In one fluid motion, he leads me onto the dance floor and slips his other hand to the small of my back. A jolt goes through me at the contact. We begin to move, surprisingly in sync after all these years. To any onlooker we appear like an elegant couple lost in the music. They can’t feel the tension thrumming through me.

“You’re as stubborn as ever,” Damon murmurs, maintaining a pleasant expression.

“And you’re as overbearing,” I whisper back, a polite smile pasted on my face.

He pulls me closer; the heat of his body seeps through my dress, scrambling my thoughts. “Why did you come back?” he asks softly.

My throat tightens. I can’t admit I returned because life without him was unbearable. “That’s none of your business,” I say, trying to sound firm.

His jaw ticks. “You made sure of that, didn’t you?” His voice is quiet but laced with bitterness. “You left without a word. Did you expect a warm welcome, for me to just forget?”

I flinch. “I expected nothing from you,” I whisper. “You have no idea what you put me through.”

His eyes blaze, hurt and anger mingling. “Then enlighten me,” he challenges.

My eyes sting with tears I refuse to shed. The waltz music builds toward a final flourish. I shake my head tightly. “Not here,” I breathe.

The last note of the song lingers as I step back. Damon releases my waist, but his hand catches my wrist before I can pull away completely. A shock runs through me at the capture.

“Let go,” I say, barely audible.

His gaze bores into mine, and for an instant I see something raw beneath the anger. “If I do,” he whispers, “will you disappear again?”

The question cuts deeper than any accusation. I blink, and a tear slips free, hot down my cheek. “Damon…” I whisper, my voice breaking.

His eyes follow the tear, and his hard expression falters. His grip on my wrist loosens. I gently tug my hand free.

“This conversation isn’t over,” he says, the slightest tremor in his tone.

I meet his stormy eyes, my own filled with tears. “For tonight it is,” I answer softly.

I turn and walk away before I lose my nerve, leaving him standing amid the swirling dancers. I feel his gaze burning into my back until I push through the doors into the cool night air.

Outside, I gulp a breath of freedom and my composure shatters. A tremor racks through me as I press a hand over my mouth to stifle a sob. I survived seeing him again, I remind myself, but I’m not sure I’ll survive what comes next. This dangerous reunion has only just begun.