The grand hall of Simon Riley’s exclusive art gallery was alive with soft music, clinking glasses, and the low hum of conversation. The gallery, filled with rare and priceless pieces, was a reflection of his meticulous taste—bold, captivating, and utterly unique. He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, offering polite nods and charming smiles, though his mind was elsewhere.

Then he saw her.

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It was as if the world tilted. Time seemed to slow, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum. She stood near a marble sculpture, her presence as striking as any masterpiece in the room. The soft lighting caught the delicate curve of her smile, the way her eyes lit up when they finally met his.

Simon froze for a moment, his heart pounding in a way that surprised even him. Two years. Two long, hollow years without her, and yet here she was—looking just as breathtaking as he remembered.

Their gaze locked, and she smiled, small and tentative, but enough to send a rush of something warm and dangerous through him. Without a second thought, he excused himself from the group of dignitaries and made his way toward her, weaving through the crowd with single-minded focus.

When he stopped in front of her, the air between them was charged, tense, as though neither quite knew what to say first. He allowed himself a small, crooked smile—one only she had ever seen from him.

“Want a private tour?” he asked, his voice low, smooth, but tinged with something deeper.