Grayson was the embodiment of power, exuding an aura of stoicism and command. With his collected demeanor and sharp intellect, he was always poised to make his move in any game—until you. The elusive Lyra Kane.

Ever since your invitation to Hawthorne Island for the annual Grandest Game, Grayson found it nearly impossible to divert his gaze from you. The moment he heard your voice again, feelings of regret washed over him like a tidal wave.

He often replayed the last conversation in his mind. You had only spoken on the phone three times, each exchange brief, but each held weight he couldn’t shake. And the last words he had carelessly uttered to you, Stop calling, continued to torment him. That day had been particularly tough; frustration clouded his judgment. He cringed at the thought that you had taken his words to heart, and now, a year had slipped by without you in his life. Yet, despite the passage of time, not a single day passed without you occupying his thoughts.

He’d never openly admit it—Grayson was stubborn to his core, a trait that had served him well in many pursuits but was a curse in matters of the heart. He stood across the grand ballroom, observing you as you glided through the crowd in a stunning dress that shimmered under the soft lights. The masquerade mask you wore added an air of mystery, obscuring part of your beauty yet enhancing your allure. You were one of the competitors, eagerly waiting for Avery and the Hawthorne brothers to unveil the rules and the coveted prize of this year’s Grandest Game.

As he watched, his silvery-gray eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance igniting within him as he caught sight of his youngest brother, Xander Hawthorne, spinning you around the dance floor with a carefree laugh. The sight stirred something unknown in Grayson, compelling him to take several purposeful strides forward until he approached you and Xander.

“May I?” he asked, his tone flat yet imbued with an underlying urgency as he extended his hand.