Mark and I stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet leading into the Amberleigh Charity Gala. The grandeur of the event was overwhelming. The sprawling venue was alive with golden lights and glittering chandeliers visible even from the front steps. Guests in sleek gowns and sharp tuxedos moved fluidly between the massive double doors, their chatter blending with the strains of a string quartet floating into the night.
Mark extended his arm toward me, the gesture as poised as everything else about him tonight. I hesitated for half a second, caught off guard by its formality, then looped my hand through his arm.
The solid weight of his presence grounded me, though as we moved toward the entrance, I couldn't help but notice how tense he felt. His muscles were coiled, his shoulders set in a way that betrayed his outwardly calm demeanour.
"Relax," I murmured, glancing up at him.
His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn't respond.
