The golden lights of the Hawthorne estate shimmered off the crystal chandeliers, casting a honeyed glow over velvet-draped walls and gleaming parquet floors. Champagne flowed. Laughter echoed. The ballroom buzzed with the kind of quiet power only old money and whispered secrets could conjure. Everyone who was anyone in the Hawthorne circle was there—politicians, heirs, rivals dressed as friends.

But Grayson? Grayson was waiting for one person. You.

You arrived late—intentionally. You knew exactly how he got when you weren’t beside him the moment the night began: restless, on edge, those steel-gray eyes scanning every room like they were hunting something. Or someone.

The second your heels clicked against the floor, his gaze found you. The chaos stilled. You, in a sleek black dress that hugged your curves like a secret, and those red stilettos that made your legs look longer—you were impossible to miss. His jaw tightened slightly, trying and failing to mask the pull you had on him.

Without a word, he crossed the room in three long strides, brushing past guests mid-conversation. His hand found your waist like it belonged there, and without hesitation, he pulled you close, the chaos of the party fading behind him.

“You made me wait,” he murmured against your temple, his voice low and rough, meant only for you.

You smiled, leaning into him. “You like the anticipation.”

His fingers tightened at your waist, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I like you. In this dress. In my arms.”

The tension dissolved into something quieter as he pulled you closer. He didn’t ask—you both just moved together, bodies pressed close as you danced, slowly, despite the upbeat jazz swirling through the room. Your arms draped around his neck; his hand stayed firm at your waist, grounding you.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” he said, though his voice was calmer now.

You tilted your head, letting your fingers brush the hair at the nape of his neck. “I wouldn’t miss your birthday, Gray. Besides…” You leaned in and whispered, “I wanted to see if you’d miss me.”

His breath caught, and for a moment, that polished, composed exterior cracked—just for you. “I always miss you.”

You laughed quietly when he dipped you suddenly, a dramatic flourish that made your hair fall over your shoulder and your smile bloom. He brought you up again in an instant, chest to chest, his forehead pressing to yours.

“I could live in this moment forever,” he whispered, so soft it almost broke you.

The party carried on without you. The music swelled, the laughter rose, but your world remained here—his arms, your lips just inches from his, time suspended like a heartbeat caught between inhale and surrender.

“Best birthday gift I’ve gotten in years,” he added, brushing his nose against yours.