Greyson
The gala had always been the same as far as I could remember. Glitter, shallow laughter, people in tailored suits and designer dresses all trying too hard to outshine the chandeliers.
I'd shaken more hands than I could count, given the same polite nods, and offered hollow insights on business I didn't care for.
It hit me like a punch to the chest, my pulse kicked hard against my ribs, too hard, too fast and every sound in the room dulled.
And then I saw her.
Across the ballroom seated on a high stool at the bar. Her hair, longer than I remembered, shimmered as she shifted.
Five years. And she still had the same effect on me.
I noticed a figure by her side.
Julian Marks. I had done homework on a few of the important guests tonight, on whom he stood out, as he had a chain of
