"Say my name."
It was a simple request.
And yet, it hovered dangerously between possession and desire.
Catherine couldn't respond.
It wasn't only what he asked… it was how he stood so close, as though he meant to draw her into his gravity, to make her cross a line she didn't know had existed between them, and take her with him.
"Dorian."
The sound of his name… spoken by another… cut through the moment like a blade.
Catherine jolted.
The music had ended.
She took a hurried step back, pulse racing, breath uneven. Yet even as distance formed, Dorian's hand lingered at her lower back… still intimate, still claiming, as though reluctant to let go.
She turned.
Edward Blackwood stood there, tall and imposing, authority carved into every line of his face. Beside him stood another man, already smiling in practiced confidence.
Edward didn't spare Catherine a glance.
"Dorian," he said coolly, "meet Mr. Fitzwilliam. Founder of Fitzwilliam Logistics. He owns two diamond mines in—"
