ping staircase. Each step felt like a deliberate walk toward her own

jewel-toned silks and designe

the... ot

girl. Looks j

t is she

er head down, her only goal to reach an unoccupi

ver ma

r arm, the grip painfully tight

k of controlled fury. "Thorne has been ask

ress," she whispered, t

orne, a shark in a tuxedo, making his way toward them. Caleb's panic intensifi

d already locked onto her. He smirked, a greasy

ace. He looked at Thorne, the potential busine

raction of a second. Famil

orward. "Mr. Thorne," Caleb said, his voice suddenly

without a backward glanc

a cold, sharp blade in her

ted. His hand, heavy and damp, landed on the bare s

ashed over her. Her e

y and cigars. "Don't worry about the dress,

g her in place. The guests around them either didn't notice or didn't care

rs closing around the worn linen of the handkerchief. She squeezed

d to g

a passing waiter's tray. In that brief mome

ing a brittle smile. "I jus

t, she twisted out o

ignoring their surprised looks. She just needed to hide. She du

into a dimly lit room. Without thinking

t into a wall o

covered in e