* Jana *
The gala was a symphony of distraction, laughter, deals whispered into crystal rims, the low thrum of a jazz band, but all of it blurred once Lawrence angled his body toward me. His presence was like a gravity, everything else in the room tilted, unimportant.
"Walk with me," he said, not a request, I a very commanding manly tone. His voice that slid under my skin, the same way it always had, a command disguised as civility.
I arched a brow, feigning ease. "And here I thought you didn't mix business with pleasure."
His lips curved, the faintest shadow of a smile, but his eyes... There is no smile there. Just fire banked under control. Looking deep into my own.
"Who said this was pleasure?"
The words were a strike meant to wound, and maybe once upon a time they would have. But
