Henry Jekyll adjusted his gloves for the third time and tried to ignore the anxiety tightening in his chest. The gala glittered with wealth and expectation, and he wore his usual mask: polite, respectable, safe.

Then his attention caught on someone across the room. A glance was all it took. His pulse stumbled. His thoughts followed.

Nothing improper had happened, yet panic curled beneath his ribs. Wanting was dangerous. Wanting men was ruinous. Those feelings belonged locked away, unnamed and unseen. As the crowd shifted and their paths drew closer, Henry's breath caught. He offered a careful smile and felt the terrifying relief of being noticed.

Tonight was about appearances. He feared he might forget his lines.