I stayed by the door for a moment, listening.
Footsteps faded.
Voices from the banquet bled back into the corridor, distant and muffled. Only when I was sure Alexander was gone did I move, slipping inside the restroom and locking the door behind me.
I braced my hands on the sink and stared at my reflection.
"Get it together," I whispered.
"You okay?" Liam's voice came through, low and steady.
"I'm fine," I said. "He intercepted me, but I redirected. Bathroom excuse. He bought it—at least enough."
A soft chuckle. "Classic."
"Don't get comfortable," I replied. "He's sharp. Too sharp."
I waited a minute longer, then exited, rejoining the flow of guests as if nothing had happened.
The music swelled again, violins smoothing over secrets, and I let the rhythm guide me toward the side bar where conversations were looser, guards less attentive.
That's when I heard it.
"…west wing after midnight. Only family."
The words came from two men standing too close, their voices dipped just low enough to sound private.
I angled my body toward them, pretending to examine a tray of drinks while committing every syllable to memory.
"Midnight," I murmured under my breath.
"Got it," Liam said. "That's our window."
I excused myself and slipped onto the balcony, cool night air brushing against my skin. The city lights stretched below like a web of stars. For a brief moment, everything felt almost normal—beautiful, even.
"You're pushing it tonight," Liam said gently.
"I know," I replied. "But this isn't just a job."
"So you will go the west wing and find out what they are talking about. We will know the rest later."
I turned back toward the glass doors—and froze.
Alexander stood inside, silhouetted by warm light, watching me through the glass. Not startled. Not surprised.
Just watching.
When I stepped back in, he spoke before I could.
"You found it this time?" he asked.
"The bathroom?" I said lightly. "Eventually."
"Hm." He studied me again, slower now.
"Funny. You keep circling the parts of the house people aren't meant to see."
"Maybe I'm curious," I said. "Is that a crime?"
He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "In this family? Curiosity gets people hurt."
I met his gaze, unflinching. "Then maybe you should stop warning me."
For a moment, something unreadable flickered in his eyes—conflict, perhaps. Then the mask slid back into place.
"Oh you want to me to help you with that," he said.
Walking closer to me step by step, like he was anticipating something.
" I don't know , how about we find out about it.
" You know you are something, right?." He stood before me, leaving now distance in between and making my heart run a marathon but l kept my cool.
Is it because he is about to find out what l am truly?
Or he already knows?
What am l going to do now...
He brushed a strand of my hair , softly, and right then a man came behind us and told him that he was needed downstairs.
He glanced one last time at me and them left.
Leaving me kinda awestruck and in another universe.
Because he thinks am an escort here, maybe that's why he is closing the distance between us.
And why me, am l really attracting that much, and pulling in much attention?
That's best defines it, so whatever they sent me here for, l should get over with it and leave before things get more serious.
As he walked away, my phone vibrated once in my clutch.
A single message from Liam:
MIDNIGHT. BE READY.
I looked around the room—the smiles, the lies, the quiet power plays—and felt the weight of what was coming settle into my bones.
This night wasn't ending with a toast.
It was ending with a choice.
And I had a feeling Alexander Qinn would be standing right in the middle of it.
The realization made my stomach tighten. My training had prepared me for deception, for infiltration, for danger—but this… this was a performance I hadn't rehearsed for.
And the moment I realized it, I understood why the Qinns' world was so dangerous.
I slipped back inside, letting the warm glow of the chandeliers wash over me. Guests were clustered in pockets of conversation, laughter like soft music masking secrets.
I moved carefully, heels clicking lightly on the polished floor, posture perfect, smile effortless. Every inch of me screamed elegance, but inside, I was alert, calculating.
Alexander was somewhere across the room, I could feel it—like gravity pulling subtly, constantly aware of my presence without even looking directly at me. I avoided his gaze on purpose, letting him watch without knowing I knew.
A man approached me, polite and practiced, offering his arm. I accepted it fluidly. It was the role—soft, alluring, untouchable.
I smiled at his small talk, nodded when necessary, all the while scanning for patterns, listening for whispers, reading movements.
Then, a waiter brushed past me with a tray of champagne. I leaned slightly closer, pretending to inspect the glasses, and caught two men murmuring near the staircase.
Names, dates, shipments—pieces of the Qinn puzzle spilling in fragments. I committed it all to memory, careful not to make my interest obvious.
And then I felt it: a presence, like a shadow across my shoulder, without touching me. I turned slightly—just enough to catch the edge of him.
Alexander Qinn, standing casually in a corner, arms folded, deep grey eyes sharp as a blade.
"You move with purpose," he said quietly, almost a remark to himself.
I tilted my head, letting the faintest smile brush my lips. "Observation is a skill."
"Most of your kind aren't skilled," he said, voice low, smooth, edged with curiosity. "They're ornaments. You… aren't."
I froze for a heartbeat, then let the confidence I'd practiced pour out.
Escorts of this place must be dumb then,l thought of myself.
"I like to think ornaments can surprise people."
His lips twitched—barely a smirk, but enough. He didn't approach. He didn't leave. He just watched, silent, calculating.
I moved again, letting the crowd carry me closer to the west wing entrance, where the private rooms began. My pulse quickened, not with fear, but with anticipation.
Every detail mattered. Every glance, every whisper, every step could unravel the mission—or give me the edge I needed.
Through the corner of my eye, I noticed Alexander subtly repositioning himself, keeping tabs without making it obvious. A silent predator. Not hunting, not yet, but ready.
I exhaled lightly, brushing a strand of hair from my face, and whispered into my earpiece,
"Liam, he's watching."
"I figured," he replied calmly. "Keep him thinking you're just another guest. Don't make him suspicious."
"I know," I said, voice steady. "But it's hard when he keeps reading me like a book."
"Then maybe he's the first man who can," Liam murmured.
I didn't answer. I let the silence speak, letting my mind focus. Tonight wasn't about
attraction. It wasn't about danger. Not yet.
It was about survival.
And gathering every scrap of intel before the real game began.