Chapter 1 - The Midnight Threshold
The silence in the dim hallway stretched so tight it felt ready to snap.
Graham stood just three paces away, his silhouette broad and imposing under the amber sconce.
His hand hovered near his pocket, fingers uncurling as his dark eyes searched my face.
“You’re still awake,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, resonant baritone.
“It’s two in the morning, Graham,” I replied, keeping my back straight against the wall.
“You’ve been pacing the third floor for three hours like a caged wolf.”
He let out a short, rough breath that was almost a laugh, though there was zero humor in his eyes.
“I don’t sleep well in October,” he said quietly, shifting his weight.
October was the anniversary of the pier collapse that had taken Miles.
I knew the date because my father had spent four years marking it in church with a lit candle and bowed head.
“My father didn't sign off on those substandard bolts, Graham,” I said, the words slipping out before I could censor them.
Graham went instantly rigid, the lingering softness in his expression vanishing behind a wall of ice.
“Don’t talk about that night, Audrey.”
“Why shouldn't I?” I challenged, taking half a step toward him.
“You hold me hostage in this gilded cage because you think my family murdered your brother.”
“I hold you here because my mother made a deal that saved your father from federal prison,” he shot back.
He moved closer until I could smell the rich peat of his bourbon and the crisp scent of winter air clinging to his wool sweater.
“You think this is a punishment for you?” Graham whispered, his jaw ticking with suppressed tension.
“Every time I look at your face, I see the company logo stamped on the collapsed beam that crushed my brother's chest.”
His words were meant to cut, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of looking away.
“Then look closer, Graham,” I whispered right back, lifting my chin.
“Look at me and tell me where the guilt is. Because I was twenty-five years old working in corporate compliance, and my father was betrayed by someone inside his own board.”
Graham stared down at me, his breathing shallow and rapid.
For a fraction of a second, his eyes dropped to my lips, and his hand moved as if to cup my neck.
The heat between us flared so hot and sudden it made my knees feel weak.
Then he pulled back violently, turning his shoulder toward the staircase like a man stepping away from an open flame.
“The Calder Museum gala is tomorrow night at seven,” he said coldly, his formal armor snapping back into place.
“Wear the emerald dress my mother sent over. And don't wander off alone. My uncle Everett will be watching every move you make.”
Before I could reply, he took the stairs two at a time, disappearing back into the dark third floor.
I stood in the cold hallway with my heart hammering against my ribs.
He didn't hate me.
May you like
That was the terrifying part.
He was terrified that if he stopped hating me, he would have nothing left to protect himself with.
