A charity gala was the kind of event Cora Hayes usually loved—glittering chandeliers, flowing champagne, and a crowd too rich to care about her family's drama. Tonight, though, she'd rather be anywhere else.
Because Clara Whitmore was here.
Clara, CEO of Whitmore Industries and Jace's longtime business rival, had a reputation for two things: ruthless deal-making and flirting like a Bond villain. Tonight, she'd paired a sequined gown with a smirk that made Cora's skin crawl.
"Remind me why we're here again? I thought we were going on a date." Cora muttered, adjusting the strap of her emerald-green dress.
"Because my father donated a million dollars to get us a table," Jace said, his tone dry. "And because Clara's trying to steal my merger partner."
Cora glanced across the room, where Clara was laughing too loudly at something a gray-haired investor said. "She's not subtle, is she?"
"Subtlety is not in Clara's vocabulary," Jace said, rolling his eyes. "Just stay close, okay? I need to keep her away from Thompson."
Cora saluted. "Wife mode: activated."
Cora's first warning that Clara had Jace in her crosshairs came an hour into the gala. She was debating whether to swipe a third mini quiche when she heard Clara's voice—syrupy sweet and dripping with faux concern.
"Jace! I've been dying to talk to you," Clara purred, materializing at his side like a sequined ghost. "I heard about your little… marriage. How adorable."
Cora bristled but plastered on a smile. "Clara! Love the dress. Is that… velvet? Bold choice for June."
Clara ignored her, leaning closer to Jace. "You know, Jace, I've always thought we'd make a killer team. Professionally, of course."
"Of course," Jace said, his tone flat.
Clara's smile sharpened. "Why don't we discuss it somewhere quieter? I have a private suite upstairs."
Cora's eyes narrowed. Oh, hell no.
Before Jace could respond, Clara "accidentally" spilled her red wine down the front of her dress. "Oops! How clumsy of me. Jace, darling, would you mind helping me find a towel?"
Jace opened his mouth, but Cora stepped forward, snatching a napkin from a passing waiter. "Let me help!"
She dabbed at Clara's dress with exaggerated vigor, smearing the wine into a Rorschach blot of humiliation.
"There!" Cora said, stepping back. "Good as new!"
Clara stared down at the stain, her smile frozen. "How… thorough of you."
Cora's victory was short-lived. Thirty minutes later, she spotted Clara cornering Jace near the champagne tower, her hand resting on his arm.
"—and I've always admired your focus," Clara was saying, her voice low. "It's so rare to find someone who… prioritizes their work."
Cora's jaw clenched. She grabbed a flute of champagne and marched over, her heels clicking like warning shots.
"Jace!" she chirped, wedging herself between him and Clara. "You forgot your phone!"
She shoved the champagne flute into his hand, "accidentally" sloshing half of it onto Clara's shoes.
Clara yelped. "Are you trying to ruin this event?"
"Me? Never!" Cora said, batting her eyelashes. "I'm just prioritizing my husband."
Jace choked on his champagne.
Clara's eyes narrowed, but before she could retaliate, Cora's elbow "slipped," knocking the champagne tower.
The crash was spectacular.
Glasses shattered, liquid rained down, and Clara's shriek could've shattered windows.
"Oops," Cora said, biting back a grin.
Jace dragged Cora into the coatroom, his grip firm but not ungentle. "What was that?"
"What?" Cora said, feigning innocence. "I was defending your honor!"
"By starting World War III with a champagne tower?" Jace hissed, though his lips twitched.
"She was flirting with you!" Cora snapped. "And you were just… standing there!"
Jace stepped closer, his voice dropping. "Jealous, Cora?"
"No!" Cora lied, her cheeks flushing. "I just… I don't trust her!"
Jace's gaze flickered to her lips. "Right."
The air between them crackled, and Cora's breath hitched as Jace leaned in—
Then he pulled back, running a hand through his hair. "We need to get back out there."
Cora blinked, thrown. "That's it? No 'thank you for rescuing me'?"
Jace smirked. "Thank you for rescuing me."
"You're welcome," Cora muttered, stomping past him.
The car ride back to the penthouse was silent, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. Cora stared out the window, replaying the almost-kiss in the coatroom.
"You know," Jace said finally, "you didn't have to drown her in champagne."
Cora crossed her arms. "She deserved it."
Jace chuckled. "She really did."
Cora glanced at him, surprised. "You're not mad?"
"Mad?" Jace shook his head. "That was the most entertaining thing I've seen at a gala in years."
Cora snorted, the sound undignified but genuine. "Glad I could amuse you."
Jace's smile faded, his tone turning serious. "But next time… let me handle Clara."
"Why?" Cora challenged. "Because I'm not part of your business?"
"Because," Jace said, his voice low, "I don't want her anywhere near you."
Cora's pulse spiked, but before she could respond, the car pulled up to the penthouse.
Back inside, Cora kicked off her heels and collapsed onto the couch. Jace lingered in the doorway, his tie loosened and his gaze unreadable.
"Today was… something," Cora said, breaking the silence.
"Yeah," Jace agreed. "Something."
Cora hesitated, then patted the spot beside her. "You going to stand there all night?"
Jace hesitated, then sat down, leaving a careful inch between them.
"You know," Cora said, her voice soft, "if you ever want to finish that almost-kiss…"
Jace turned to her, his eyes dark. "Is that an invitation?"