THE BILLIONAIRE'S PHOENIX

to ki

ound the champagne flute instead of reaching for a weapon. The vision is vivid: the satisfying jerk of his body, the brilliant, shocking c

have mentally sketched out fifty different ways to end Ethan Croft, and yet, it never feels like

am so delighted t

dary organizer of this fashion show and the director of Aethelred House, a name that commands reverence in American fashion. Receiving her personal invitation two months ago was a shockwave through

rfect smile. "The show was amazing. I loved the

t just dressing bodies, we are draping characters in a story. And your work, Vaness

at perfectly suits the surroundings. "I loo

ends before someone calls her away. As soon as she

s g

ave. The party is just getting started. I start moving th

, modern art pieces hanging down. Everyone is dressed in their best, wearing crazy-e

nes

g the show. She is a minor television actress and a professional talker, who spent the entire hour rambling about her auditions and her co-stars. She has now mistakenly decided we

, impersonal smile to her companions– a gallery owner, a t

out boring famous people I don't care about. My head starts to ache from all

xcuse and slip away, moving through

own hair. Even after all these years, i can recognize

o some important-looking guys, probably lying through his teeth. I look at them and wonder, do they ha

t notice

the plan. I

ond watch on my wrist. There

s eight more minutes? I've spent all this time plan

on the crisp, pristine white of a dress shirt, layered beneath a impeccably tailored black suit. It's a man's chest. I crane my neck up, and my e

us. "My apologies," I say, my voice smoo

e, another moment, I might have appreciated the sharp line of his jaw or the intensity

vening, but he doesn't. He simply stands there, hands tucked casually into his pockets,

tes left now. "If you'll excuse me," I say, not waiting for a response before

But I can still feel the weight of that grey-eyed stare from behind me. It's a tangible pressure bet

gin to glide forward, ignoring the heated stare from the stranger. I calculate it perfectly,

s planned,

ack. A collective, startled gasp ripples through the crowd,

tative manner. "Everyone, please remain where y

ff for three full minutes. An

nsive cologne. He is just a shadow in the dark. "What's going on?" he mumbles to

e darkness and rip that head of his. B

step, closing the last of

isper into th

this?" he ask

small, defiant flame sparks to life, illuminating the space between our faces. In the

reflection in my eyes as I

hushed, deliberate tone. A sl

to behold. His eyes widen, his jaw goes slack, the color draining

vements silent and sure through the disoriented crowd. Just as I reach the main exit, the lights flicker back on,

eet, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He brings a trembling hand up, w

through the doors, stepping out into th

, questioning his own sanity, trying to convince himself it was a hallucination, a trick of the light. Because in his w

is teetering there, vulnerable and parano

n my spine. I can't shake the feeling that a pair of eye