The Saint James Charity Gala shimmered like a mirage when the Cross SUV rolled to a stop beneath the portico. Cameras exploded in white bursts, catching on crystal chandeliers and the mirrored facade, turning the whole entrance into a kaleidoscope of light. Mya smoothed the front of her emerald gown—the same one from the boutique—and drew a steadying breath. She could feel the eyes already. Not the hungry greed of Damon’s circles, not exactly. This was curiosity wrapped in silk.
Alexander stepped out first, tall and composed, then turned to offer Mya his hand as if the whole night had been built around that gesture. Casey flashed a grin so bright it made photographers cheer. Cameron gave a bow that somehow made the crowd gentler, more amused than ravenous. Adrian, last, closed the door wi
