Aria POV

The ballroom smelled of roses and danger. Crystal chandeliers spread light across the marble floor like broken stars. I clutched the edge of the table, forcing myself to breathe.

He was there, at the far end, chatting quietly with his security chief. His suit was pitch black, his tie the color of blood. When his eyes found me, the room shrank until only the two of us existed.

“Don’t run,” he whispered when he reached me. “If you run now, I won’t follow.”

“And ...