SCARLETT
The gala was everything Monaco promised and more.
The hotel ballroom had been transformed into something from a fever dream, all white flowers and candlelight and the kind of wealth that didn't announce itself because it didn't need to. Women dripped in jewelry that cost more than most people's houses. Men moved through the room with the particular confidence of people who had never been told no about anything important.
I stood at the edge of it in the purple dress and felt simultaneously overdressed and underdressed and completely out of my depth.
Ethan appeared at my shoulder with two glasses of champagne. "You look like you're calculating an exit strategy."
"I'm always calculating an exit strategy," I said, taking a glass.
He smiled. "You look incredible by the way. I do
