Jason Jae had always been the master of control. In boardrooms, at negotiations, across the sprawling empire he commanded, people bent toward his gravity. He never let emotion seep through cracks, never allowed desire or irritation to shift his poise.
But tonight, inside the glittering lounge of the Mercer Foundation event, control felt like sand slipping through his fingers.
Jonathan Reed.
The name alone was enough to sour the taste of the wine Jason hadn’t touched. The man had appeared not with fanfare, not with the kind of entrance Jason himself was accustomed to making, but with subtle precision. Reed slid into conversations easily, as though each word he spoke had been rehearsed and sharpened for effect. And then there was Gigi—her laughter, light and uncertain, threading into the
