I woke up tangled in my sheets, my heart pounding from dreams that clung to me like mist. Fragmented images of the gala flickered through my mind—Mark's touch lingering on my waist, Mackenzie's cold, assessing stare, and the investors' piercing eyes tracking our every move. I felt like I'd spent the entire night under their relentless scrutiny.
With a groan, I rolled onto my back, staring at the soft light spilling through my window. Morning was here, washing away the intensity of the previous night. The clarity of daylight helped me push aside the lingering emotions far more easily than I'd managed last night.
Whatever connection Mark and I had shared at the gala—it was just part of the act. A necessary illusion to shield ourselves from prying eyes. Nothing more. We'd played our roles, and we'd played them well.
But that moment on the staircase... the way his eyes softened as our fingers brushed...
