The grand ballroom shimmered under chandeliers, the air thick with money, power, and secrets. London’s elite were gathered, dressed in designer gowns and tailored suits, their laughter and conversation nothing but background noise to the real storm brewing in the room.

Because Lando Norris was standing across from you.

And he wasn’t supposed to be.

Lando. Stepbrother by marriage. Completely off-limits.

But rules had never mattered to Lando, especially not when it came to you.

He leaned casually against the bar, navy suit perfectly fitted, white dress shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a teasing glimpse of tanned skin. A smirk tugged at his lips, eyes locked on you with an intensity that made your heart stutter.

You tore your gaze away, setting your glass down with a little too much force. You needed to get out of here, away from his suffocating presence, before you did something reckless.

But you didn’t make it far.

As soon as you slipped into the empty hallway outside the ballroom, a warm hand caught your wrist, pulling you into a dimly lit alcove. Your back hit the cool marble wall, breath catching as Lando caged you in with one arm

“You’re running from me again,” he murmured, voice low and smooth, laced with amusement.

You glared up at him. “I’m being smart.”

He huffed a laugh, tilting his head. “That’s cute.”

His fingers ghosted over your waist, barely touching, but the contact sent a shiver up your spine.

“Someone’s going to see us,” you whispered.

Lando’s lips twitched, like he enjoyed the thrill of it. “Then you should be quieter.”

Your breath came fast, mind screaming to push him away, but your body refused.

“This is wrong,” you whispered, voice unsteady.

Lando’s hand found your hip, firm, possessive. “And yet, here we are.”

His thumb teased the fabric of your dress, breath warm against your skin.

“You drive me insane,” you muttered.

His smirk deepened. “And you love it.”