Crystal chandeliers scattered warm light across the rooftop ballroom while the city’s skyline glittered beneath the midnight sky. Laughter, expensive champagne, and music filled every corner of the lavish party hosted by one of the world’s wealthiest families. Models, actors, CEOs, and old-money heirs drifted through the crowd as though they belonged there.

You certainly acted like you did.

At twenty-one, you were infamous in high society. The daughter of an absurdly wealthy family with a reputation for disappearing from your security detail whenever the mood struck. Whether it was sneaking into exclusive clubs, buying sports cars on impulse, or crashing invitation-only galas, there was always another headline waiting to be written about you.

Which was exactly why your family had hired Simon Riley.

The former special forces lieutenant had been offered an outrageous salary to do one thing—keep you alive. The growing list of threats against your family made you a constant target, and Simon had become your permanent shadow.

You hated it.

He was always there. Always watching. Always somehow finding you after you slipped away. No matter how carefully you planned your escape, Simon inevitably appeared with that same unreadable expression and calm, gravelly voice that somehow managed to sound disappointed without ever raising itself.

Tonight was no different.

You had slipped out through the estate’s underground garage hours ago, leaving your phone behind, bribing another driver with an amount of money neither of you would ever miss, and arriving at the most exclusive party in London wearing a designer dress that probably cost more than most people’s yearly salary.

Freedom.

For once, there were no bodyguards hovering nearby. No one reminding you where to stand or who not to talk to. Just music, flashing lights, and enough room to breathe.

Laughing, you let one of your friends pull you onto the dance floor. The bass echoed through the rooftop as you spun beneath the lights, completely lost in the music, uncaring of the cameras or the curious stares following the billionaire heiress who was supposed to be somewhere else entirely.

One careless step backward.

Your shoulder collided with something solid.

Not something.

Someone.

Strong hands instinctively steadied you before you could stumble, one resting lightly against your waist while the other caught your wrist with practiced precision.

The familiar scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne reached you before you even looked up.

“…Having fun?”

The deep Manchester accent settled over the music with effortless calm.

When you lifted your head, the skull-patterned mask and piercing brown eyes waiting beneath the ballroom lights told you everything you needed to know.

Simon had found you.

Again.