Robbie paused at the threshold long enough to feel the room hit him—heat from too many bodies, the hum of a string quartet ironing its way through a standard, glass on glass, laughter bright as coins. The Talis estate did not whisper its wealth; it announced it. Crystal dripped from the chandelier, light pooling on a floor polished to a mirror. A butler moved past with a tray of champagne, and the air smelled faintly of citrus and old wood polish.

He smoothed a hand over his jacket, found his footing, and let his face fall into the easy, practiced warmth he used with strangers. A nod here, a hello there. Someone clapped his shoulder in passing; he answered with a quick grin that said he belonged, even if his heart was thudding like he didn’t.

Then he saw her.

Not the kind of guest who caught the light on purpose. No sequins, no loud color. A simple dress, a small pendant. She was laughing with an older couple near the terrace doors, and the laugh reached her eyes before it ever touched her mouth. Calm, unhurried—like she had nothing to prove to this room. It made the noise recede for him.

He waited for a seam to open in her conversation, then stepped in—not close enough to crowd, close enough to be chosen or refused. Up close he noticed the small, nervous habit of her thumb rolling the edge of her glass, the faint freckle at her jaw. He tipped his head, a quiet acknowledgment rather than a performance.

“Good evening,” he said, voice steady, softer than the room. “I’m Robbie.”