She was asleep before I finished the sentence. I stood there for a moment, listening to the soft sound of her breathing. It was the only steady thing I had heard all night, a quiet victory in a chaotic war. I checked the lock on the door—twice, rattling the handle to be sure—and slipped out into the corridor.
I needed air. Real air, not the recycled, perfume-heavy draft circulating through the vents.
Not for the first time, I wished we’d been a little more careful with the champagne. It had only made me slightly tipsy, but Danae had always been a lightweight. She’d regret this tomorrow. Kind of like I regretted it already. But for now, I didn’t want to think about it. At all.
I walked back to the elevator and pressed the topmost button. Orion had said the observation deck would be empty. Maybe in this, at least, he’d be right.
The elevator carried me to the upper levels in moments. As the doors slid open, the wind hit me, a frigid slap that cleared the champagne haze from my head. I didn’t let it get to me. I walked to the railing and leaned far out.
From up here, the party was just a dull thrum in the floorboards, a beast locked in the basement. The ocean stretched out in every direction, a black, restless expanse that swallowed themoonlight. “Finally.” I let the air out in a long, shaky rush, my lungs finally expanding fully against the corset of my dress.
“Not a fan of crowds, I take it?”
The voice drifted from the shadows, low and amused. I spun around, only to see a figure leaning casually against a steel stanchion.
Anyone else might have panicked at finding a stranger in the dark. But I hadn’t lost my composure when last week’s bride had shredded her veil five minutes before the ceremony. I wasn’t going to lose it now. “I didn’t realize this deck was occupied.”
“It wasn’t.” The figure stepped into the moonlight. He moved with a lazy, predatory grace, smiling as if we were sharing a private joke. “I just escaped. Orion throws a hell of a party, but there’s only so much neon I can tolerate before I get a migraine.”
My pulse hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I knew that face. Everyone knew that face. It was plastered on every newsfeed and gossip column from here to Greece.
“Alexander Stormwright.”
“Guilty.” He bowed his head with the mocking elegance of a king playing at being a commoner. “And you have me at a disadvantage.”
I fought the sudden, irrational urge to run. My instincts, usually reliable, screamed that I was standing too close to a predator. He didn’t look like a guest. He looked like a storm front waiting to break, contained only by a tailored suit and a charming smile.
“I’m just leaving.”
“Already?” Alexander arched a perfect brow, radiating a calm warmth that felt completely at odds with the cold wind. “The night is young. And you looked like you were enjoying the silence.”
“I was.” I gripped the cold steel of the railing behind me, bracing myself against the pull of his presence. “Until now.”
“Ouch.” Alexander didn’t flinch. Instead, he chuckled, treating my rejection like a delightful novelty rather than an insult. “I usually get at least three minutes of polite conversation before the venom comes out. You’re breaking records.”
“I’m efficient.” I tightened my grip on the railing until the cold steel bit into my palms. I needed that pain. I needed it to ground me against the strange, humming heat he radiated. “And I don’t have three minutes.”
“Pity.” He drifted closer. He didn’t invade my space, but he consumed the air around us, making the wide, windswept deck feel suddenly, claustrophobically small. “You’re not part of Orion’s usual crowd. You’re too sober. You’re not wearing enough glitter. And you’re the only person on this ship who isn’t looking at me like I’m about to write them a check.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Everyone wants something.” He rested his hip against the stanchion, studying me with an intensity that felt physical. “Power. Influence. An introduction. What do you want, Ms…?”
The question hung in the cold air between us, a baited hook waiting for a bite.
“To be left alone.”
“A rare ambition.” He turned his head to the sea, the moonlight catching the sharp, arrogant angle of his jaw. “But I don’t believe you. Nobody comes to a House Poseidon gala to be invisible. You’re hiding something.”
Adrenaline flooded my system, a cold wash that started in my chest and ended in my fingertips. Hiding. The word struck too close to home. I had spent a lifetime hiding my mother’s name, my biology, and the temper that threatened to burn my carefully constructed life to the ground.
“I’m hiding from the noise,” I snapped at him. I tried to not let him get to me, but I didn’t think I was very successful. “And now, I’m hiding from you.”
“You think I’m dangerous.” The amusement faded from his face, replaced by a sharper, keener interest.
“I think you’re Alexander Stormwright.” I stepped away from the railing, putting distance between us before the gravity of him could pull me in. “You don’t walk into a room without having some kind of agenda. And I don’t want to have anything to do with that.”
“Surely, I’m not so terrifying,” he said, straightening his back. The air pressure dropped between us, a sudden vacuum that sucked the moisture from my mouth. “Stay. Have a drink with me. I promise to keep the lightning to a minimum.”