Claire stared at her image in the mirror, barely recognizing herself. The black dress Olivia had demanded she wear hugged her curves, making her look like someone who belonged in the elite world she was about to enter.
"You look amazing!" Olivia burst into the room, already dressed in a beautiful green gown. "The Annual Charity Gala is the event of the season. Everyone who matters will be there."
Claire turned away from the mirror. "Including Damian Blackwood?"
Olivia's smile faltered for just a second. "Probably. His family always supports it." She grabbed Claire's hands. "But that's not why we're going. You need a night off from all this payback planning. When was the last time you had fun?"
Claire thought about the text from Damian asking dinner. She'd agreed to meet him tomorrow night, but hadn't told Olivia. Something held her back from sharing that information.
"Fine," Claire sighed. "One night of pretending I'm not at war with the most powerful man in the city."
Olivia smiled. "That's my girl! And who knows? Maybe you'll meet someone who makes you forget all about the Blackwoods."
As they left the apartment, Claire didn't notice Olivia sending a quick text: She's coming. Plan is working.
The ballroom of the Grand Plaza Hotel sparkled with lights and wealth. Claire felt out of place among the city's elite, but Olivia walked through the crowd like she belonged, meeting people Claire had only seen in business magazines.
"How do you know all these people?" Claire whispered.
Olivia winked. "I have links. Come on, let's get champagne."
As they made their way to the bar, Claire felt a prickle on the back of her neck. Someone was watching her. She turned slowly, scanning the room.
That's when she saw him.
Damian Blackwood stood on the opposite side of the hall, devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. Their eyes locked across the busy room. Claire's heart pounded so hard she was sure everyone could hear it.
Then a blonde woman in a silver dress slipped her arm through Damian's, breaking their link. The woman leaned close to his ear, saying something that made him smile—a move Claire hadn't seen from him before.
"Who's that?" Claire asked, nudging Olivia.
Olivia followed her eyes and frowned. "Margaret Sinclair. Damian's exfiancée. They were engaged until about a year ago." She pulled Claire toward a less busy spot. "Word is she's trying to win him back."
"They look... comfortable together," Claire said, trying to ignore the strange twist in her stomach. Why should she care who Damian danced with?
"Don't waste your energy thinking about him tonight," Olivia said strongly. "Let's mingle."
Across the room, Damian watched Claire from the corner of his eye while trying to listen to Margaret.
"You're staring," Margaret said, her perfectly painted lips twisting into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Who is she?"
"No one important."
Margaret laughed softly. "You never were a good liar, Damian. I know when something—or someone—has caught your attention."
Damian turned to face her fully. "Why are you really here, Margaret? We ended things for good reasons."
"Perhaps I've changed." She put her hand on his chest. "Or perhaps I'm here because Jonathan Pierce arrived with that redhead who's friends with your new obsession."
Damian's head snapped up. Sure enough, Jonathan Pierce was making his way through the crowd, headed straight for Claire.
"Excuse me," Damian said, already moving away from Margaret.
Her voice followed him like ice. "Be careful, Damian. You have more to lose than you know."
Claire was drinking champagne when a familiar voice spoke beside her.
"Miss Hart. What a nice surprise."
She turned to find Jonathan Pierce smiling down at her.
"Mr. Pierce. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Call me Jonathan. And I wouldn't miss the chance to help good projects." His eyes flicked past her. "I see your friend Olivia knows my associate, Mr. Reynolds."
Claire followed his eyes. Olivia was deep in talk with a sternlooking guy in an expensive suit.
"How does Olivia know—"
"Claire Hart." The deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Damian Blackwood stood before her, his face unreadable. Up close, he was even more frightening, oozing power and control.
Jonathan's smile widened. "Blackwood. I was just getting acquainted with Miss Hart."
"I'm sure you were." Damian's eyes never left Claire's face. "May I have this dance, Miss Hart?"
Claire blinked in surprise. "I—"
"She was actually just promising me a dance," Jonathan interrupted easily.
"Was she?" Damian raised an eyebrow at Claire. "In that case, I'll wait my turn."
Before Claire could reply, music filled the room. Jonathan offered his hand, and with a quick glance at Damian's stoic face, she accepted.
As Jonathan led her to the dance floor, Claire felt stuck in a dangerous game between two strong men. Over Jonathan's shoulder, she saw Damian watching them, his jaw tight.
"He's jealous," Jonathan whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "I've never seen him react this way to anyone."
"This isn't why I agreed to work with you," Claire whispered back.
"Every war has various fronts, Claire. Trust me."
The song ended, and before Claire could leave, Damian was there, his hand offered.
"My turn."
Jonathan stepped back with a small bow. "We'll continue our conversation later, Claire."
The moment Damian's hand touched her waist, Claire felt an electric current run through her body. He drew her closer than was strictly necessary, his touch firm but soft.
"You've been busy since our encounter at my office," he said quietly. "First Pierce, now this dinner. One might think you're collecting strong friends."
Claire met his eyes boldly. "Or maybe I'm just living my life while you have me followed."
A flash of surprise crossed his face. "Smart and observant. Your father would be proud."
The mention of her father made Claire stiffen. "Don't talk about him."
"Why not? Isn't he the reason you came looking for me?" His eyes searched hers. "Or was that just an excuse?"
"You know exactly why I came to you."
Damian leaned closer, his lips near her ear. "What I know is that you're playing a dangerous game, Claire Hart. And you don't have all the facts."
"Then give them to me."
"Tomorrow night. Dinner. As we agreed."
The music stopped, and Damian stepped back, his hand resting on hers for a moment too long.
"Until tomorrow," he said, then turned and walked away.
Claire stood frozen, her skin still tingly where he'd touched her. Across the room, she noticed Margaret watching her with cold, calculating eyes.
"You danced with both of them?" Olivia gripped Claire's arm as they waited for their clothes. "Everyone is talking about it!"
Claire frowned. "Why were you talking to Jonathan Pierce's associate?"
Olivia looked away. "I wasn't. I mean, I was just being friendly."
Before Claire could press further, she spotted Vincent entering the dinner, looking uncomfortable in a rented suit. When he saw her, relief washed over his face.
"Claire! I've been trying to reach you all night." He hurried over, ignoring Olivia's annoyed look. "Can we talk? Privately?"
"We were just leaving," Olivia interrupted.
"It's important," Vincent urged, his eyes pleading with Claire.
"Give us a minute," Claire told Olivia, who reluctantly stepped away.
Vincent dropped his voice. "You need to be careful. There's something about Olivia—"
"Miss Hart." A smooth voice cut him off.
They turned to see Marcus King, Damian's righthand man, standing behind them.
"Mr. Blackwood asked me to give you this." He gave Claire a small package. "He also suggested your friend Mr. Graves might want to consider his loyalties carefully."
Vincent paled as Marcus walked away.
"What was that about?" Claire asked, studying Vincent's face.
"Nothing. Just open it."
Inside the package was a key card with an address written on it and a note: If you truly want answers, come alone after the party. Tell no one.
Claire slipped the card into her purse, her mind running.
"What did it say?" Vincent asked nervously.
"Nothing important." The lie felt strange on her lips. When had she started keeping lies from Vincent?
Olivia returned with their clothes. "Ready?"
As they left, Claire looked back one last time. Through the crowd, she caught sight of Damian watching her, Margaret at his side. Next to them stood Elias Blackwood, raising his glass in a mocking toast.
Outside, Vincent grabbed Claire's hand. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless tonight."
"I promise," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back.
What Vincent and Olivia didn't know was that Claire had already decided. She would meet Damian Blackwood tonight, alone. Because if there was even a chance he had the truth about her father, she had to take it.
Little did she know that three different people at the gala had plans for her that night—and all of them were willing to do whatever it took to make sure their plan worked.