Nyx stopped a few feet behind her, close enough to catch the faint scent of something clean and expensive: citrus, cedar, a hint of hospital antiseptic that clung even here.
Close enough to see the fine tension in Rowan's shoulders, the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass when she sensed someone too near.
Nyx's voice came out low, velvet-edged and deep, laced with the pretense of disdain he didn't feel.
"Still saving lives, Doctor? Or just here to judge the rich kids who don't know how to behave?"
He waited.
The air between them thickened.
Rowan's back stiffened, barely perceptible, but Nyx caught it.
And when the doctor finally began to turn, slow, deliberate, like she was deciding whether the interruption was worth her time, Nyx's pulse kicked harder.
The black dress shifted with her, the high slit parting just enough to reveal the smooth line of her thigh.
Nyx's breath caught for half a second; the face was about to come into view, the same eyes, the same full mouth that had delivered clinical commands while saving his life.
But before the turn completed, before Nyx could finally see the woman who'd haunted his thoughts for days, Lexi's voice sliced through the air like a thrown knife.
"Nyx!"
Sharp. Urgent. Loud enough to carry over the quartet and the low hum of conversation.
Nyx froze mid-step. Rowan paused too, half-turned, back still mostly to them, head tilting slightly as though registering the call but deciding it wasn't worth her full attention yet.
Nyx's jaw tightened. He shot Lexi a glare that could've melted steel.
Lexi, undeterred, sauntered closer with Jade trailing behind like amused backup. She hooked her arm through Nyx's, tugging him backward a step, voice dropping to a conspiratorial stage-whisper that was still entirely too audible.
"She's hot," Lexi said, nodding toward Rowan's still-turned form.
"Like … stupid hot. That back alone could start wars. You sure you wanna go in guns blazing when you haven't even seen the front yet?"
Nyx rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. "What now?"
"Nothing," Lexi said innocently, batting lashes.
"Just that she's hot. Thought you should know before you commit to whatever unhinged plan is brewing in that pretty head of yours."
Jade snorted, leaning against a nearby pillar with his champagne flute dangling from two fingers.
"She's right. That posture? That hair? If the front matches the back, you're fucked, Nyx. In the best way."
Nyx exhaled through his nose, sharp, impatient. His gaze flicked back to Rowan, who had already turned away again, resuming her conversation with Sara and Emma as though the near-interruption had never happened.
The doctor's profile was partially visible now ... no sharp jaw but damn hot, lips pressed into that familiar line of quiet control … but not enough. Not the full face. Not yet.
Nyx's mouth curved again, half frustration, half dark amusement.
"I'm going," he said, voice low and final. He disentangled his arm from Lexi's grip with deliberate care.
"Don't dare disturb me again. I mean it. Touch me, call me, breathe too loud in my direction, and I'll make sure your next party invite comes from the doorman downstairs."
Lexi raised both hands in mock surrender, grin wide and wicked. "Fine, fine. Go hunt. We'll behave. Mostly."
Jade lifted his glass in a lazy toast. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
"That leaves the field wide open," Nyx muttered.
He straightened his blazer one last time, sharp lapels, rolled sleeves, the open front revealing the hard lines of his broad, muscular chest. Then he moved. No hesitation this time.
He stopped just behind her, personal space deliberately invaded, and let his voice drop, velvet and edged, carrying the same pretense of disdain he'd worn like armor all night.
His lips parted, ready to speak the name again, sharper this time, to force the doctor to turn fully and finally meet his eyes.
Before the words could leave his mouth, Rowan's voice cut through the space between them, low, controlled, but carrying just enough in the lull of the quartet's transition to be unmistakable.
"… the drunken heir," Rowan was saying to Sara, her tone flat but laced with something rawer than clinical detachment.
"Seventeen, overdosed on coke and benzos, woke up swinging at nurses like we were the ones who forced the drugs down his throat. Verbally abusive the second the Narcan hit. Called me a 'self-righteous bitch in scrubs' before he signed out AMA and disappeared with his little entourage. No thank you. No remorse. Just entitlement wrapped in a trust fund."
Sara let out a low whistle, leaning against the bar. "Damn. And you still saved his life like it was nothing."
Rowan's shoulders lifted in a small, tight shrug. The black dress shifted with the motion, the slit parting to show more thigh before she crossed one ankle over the other.
"It's the job. Doesn't mean I have to like the patient. I felt … angry. Disgusted. Hate, even. Not for the addiction... that's a disease. For the way he treated everyone like we were beneath him. Like his life was the only one that mattered in that trauma bay. People die every shift because they can't get the help he threw away. And he just walked out laughing with his friends."
Emma, sipping her drink, nodded slowly. "Sounds like a nightmare patient. But hot, right? The photos online don't lie. That face, that body..."
Rowan cut her off with a sharp exhale, almost a scoff. "Doesn't matter. Beauty doesn't excuse cruelty. If I never see Nyx Ravencroft again, it'll be too soon."
Nyx stopped dead.
The words landed like ice water down his spine, cold, precise, final. He stood frozen three steps behind them, blazer suddenly feeling too tight across his broad chest, oxfords rooted to the marble.
The party noise receded to a dull roar; the chandelier light seemed harsher, the orchids cloying.
They hadn't seen him.
Sara was laughing softly at something Emma added.
Rowan's back remained turned ... still elegant, still untouchable, still radiating that quiet fury Nyx had only glimpsed in the hospital through the haze of drugs and restraints.
Disgusted. Hate.
The words echoed in his skull, twisting something inside his chest he hadn't expected to feel. Not shame, never shame.
But a sharp, unfamiliar sting. Rejection.
From the one person who'd looked at him without flinching, without pity, without begging him to behave.
The one person he'd fixated on because she hadn't bowed. And now that same person hated him.
Nyx's mouth went dry. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, nails biting into palms.
He should have stepped forward. Should have interrupted, thrown the words back in Rowan's face, made her turn and see exactly who was standing there. Made her eat every syllable.
But he didn't. He stayed silent. Watching. Listening.
The three women remained oblivious, Sara gesturing animatedly, Emma laughing, Rowan's posture unchanging, shoulders set in that perfect, infuriating line of control.
Nyx turned. Walked away.
Lexi spotted him first, leaning against a pillar, mid-sip of champagne. Her grin faded when she saw Nyx's face.
"Nyx? What happened? You look like someone just..."
Nyx cut her off with a single look, dark, unreadable, burning.
"Nothing," he said, voice low and steady. Too steady. "Change of plans."
Jade straightened, brow furrowing. "You didn't even talk to her?"
"I heard enough." He didn't elaborate.
He simply walked past them, toward the terrace doors that led to the private outdoor space overlooking the park.
The night air hit him like a slap when he stepped out ... cold, sharp, cleansing. He gripped the railing, knuckles white against black metal, staring down at the city lights far below.
Angry. Disgusted. Hate.
The words looped in his head, each one a barb sinking deeper.
He should have felt triumph. Vindication. Proof that Rowan was just like the rest ... judgmental, superior, quick to write him off.
Instead he felt … hollow. And furious.
Because hate from Rowan Blackwood didn't feel like rejection. It felt like a challenge. One he was no longer sure he wanted to win. But one he could no longer walk away from.
He gripped the railing harder, knuckles bleaching white against the black metal, staring down at the glittering void of Central Park far below.
Lexi and Jade stepped out together, champagne flutes still in hand, expressions shifting from playful to concerned the second they saw his face.
Lexi's dress caught the terrace lights like fresh blood; Jade's silk shirt fluttered open in the breeze, revealing more chest than the party probably approved of.
Jade reached him first, leaning one hip against the railing beside him, voice low and teasing but edged with real curiosity.
"What now?" he asked, tilting his head to study Nyx's profile.
"You're gonna think about that mature bitch all night? Fuck, I can't forget her body. Fucking tempting. Those curves in that dress? Like she's carved out of marble and sin at the same time. But yeah … with you."
He let the last part hang ... half joke, half dare ... his eyes flicking toward the glass doors where Rowan still stood inside, oblivious, back turned again.
Lexi came up on Nyx's other side, setting her flute down on the wide stone ledge with a deliberate clink.
She crossed her arms under her chest, pushing the deep V of her dress even lower, and fixed Nyx with a knowing look.
"Nyx thinking about anyone impossible," she said quietly, "but happening."
Nyx didn't answer right away. He exhaled once, slow, controlled, then turned his head just enough to meet Lexi's eyes.
"She hates me," Nyx said, voice flat, stripped of its usual venom. "Said it out loud. Angry. Disgusted. Hate. For the way I treated everyone in that trauma bay. Like her life was the only one that mattered."
He laughed once, short, bitter, almost soundless. "She's right. I was a nightmare. And she still saved me. Didn't even hesitate. Then wrote me off like trash."
Jade's smirk faded. He straightened, setting his own glass down.
"So what?" he said. "She's a doctor. Saving people is literally her job. Doesn't mean she has to like you. Doesn't mean you have to like her back."
"But I do," Nyx whispered, the admission slipping out before he could catch it. He looked away fast, back to the city lights.
"I fucking do. And I hate that I do. She looked at me like I was nothing. No pity. No fear. Just … facts. And now I can't stop seeing her. That posture. That hair. The way she stands like the world owes her nothing. Like she's above all of this." He gestured vaguely toward the ballroom behind them. "Above me."
Lexi reached over, brushed a strand of dark hair off Nyx's face with surprising gentleness.
"Then stop pretending you hate her attitude," Lexi said softly. "You don't. You're obsessed because she didn't break for you. Everyone else does. Family, staff, dealers, us sometimes. She didn't. That's rare. That's … addictive."
Jade nodded slowly. "She's not some party girl you can buy or bully. She's solid. Unmovable. And yeah her body's a goddamn weapon. But it's the rest of her that's got you twisted up. The control. The disgust. The hate. You want to crack it. Make her feel something. Make her look at you again … not as a patient, not as a Ravencroft, just as … you."
Nyx's fingers tightened on the railing until the metal bit into his palms.
"I heard her say she hopes she never sees me again."
Lexi's lips curved, small, wicked. "Then make her see you."
Jade leaned closer, voice dropping to match the wind.
"Or walk away," he said. "Forget her. Go back inside, smile for the cameras, play the perfect little bloodline heir for one more night. Let her hate you from a distance. Safe. Easy."
Nyx's laugh was hollow.
"Safe and easy stopped being options the second she looked at me in that hospital bed."
He pushed off the railing, straightened his blazer, broad shoulders squared, the open front showing the defined lines of his muscular chest. The bruises from the yacht restraints peeked out at his wrists like faint badges.
"I'm not done," he said quietly.
Lexi's grin returned, slow, approving.
"That's our guy."
Jade lifted his glass in a mock toast to the night sky. "To the mature bitch who doesn't know what's coming."
Nyx spoke first, voice low and edged with something raw he rarely let show.
"I don't like her," he said, the words tasting like a lie even as they left his mouth.
"I just wanna make her feel small. That no one gets to say I'm disgusting. No one gets to look at me like I'm something to be pitied and scrubbed clean. Especially not her."