The party was already in full swing by the time Ethan arrived. Glittering chandeliers bathed the grand ballroom in golden light, expensive laughter filled the air, and high society vultures circled, sipping champagne like it was lifeblood. He took his place near the entrance, posture rigid, eyes scanning for potential threats. Too many people. Too many unknowns. He didn’t like it.

Then, she walked in.

For a brief second, he forgot about the job, about the risk, about everything but her. She was radiant, drawing every gaze in the room—and yet, her eyes searched only for him. He straightened, tightening his grip on the radio at his hip, forcing himself to stay neutral.

But she didn’t care for pretenses.

She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, standing closer than she should, her perfume wrapping around him, intoxicating. A small smile played on her lips, one only he would notice. He exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to touch her. Not here. Not now.

And then—static in his earpiece.

"You copy? What's the situation? Is the subject in the building?"

Ethan clenched his jaw. The moment was gone.

He wrapped an arm around her, playing the role of the dutiful bodyguard as he leaned in, his voice low and rough against her ear.

"Copy. All clear. The subject is in the... line of sight."