"Twelve minutes after midnight, three hundred people watched the man I loved publicly humiliate me by choosing another woman. Then the most feared man in the ballroom walked straight to my table, draped his coat over my shoulders, and whispered: ‘Stand up and act like you’re mine.’"

The heavy wool of Nathaniel Mercer’s coat swallowed me, the long sleeves falling past my hands and the hem brushing against the calves of my sapphire dress. It was entirely too big, completely out of place in a room designed for high-society elegance, and yet, as I stood beside him, I felt safer than I had all evening.

Across the room, Daniel Reeves looked as though he had swallowed glass. His hand, still resting on Madeline’s waist, clenched so hard the knuckles turned white.

“Mr. Mercer,” Grant Holloway managed to choke out, scurrying around the edge of the head table like a nervous crab. “I—we weren't aware that Pinehaven had any... personal interests at table nineteen.”

Nathaniel didn't look at Grant. His slate-gray eyes remained fixed on the floor ahead of us, his large, gloved hand resting lightly, possessively, at the small of my back.

“Pinehaven has interests wherever I decide to place them, Holloway,” Nathaniel said coldly. “And as for table nineteen? I find the air here considerably more honest than what you’re breathing up front.”

A collective shudder ran through the crowd. To insult Grant Holloway to his face, in front of his entire alliance, was an act of open war. But nobody dared move. Nobody dared speak. The three hundred guests who had been laughing at me twelve minutes ago were now terrified to even look in my direction, lest Nathaniel Mercer decide they were his next target.

“Come, Miss Parker,” Nathaniel said softly to me, his hand guiding me forward.

We didn't walk toward the exit. He led me straight past the head table, past the frozen gaze of Madeline Cross, and stopped right in front of Daniel.

Up close, Daniel looked pathetic. The high-end designer suit could no longer mask the cowardice in his posture.

“Reves,” Nathaniel said, his voice flat and dangerous.

“Mr. Mercer,” Daniel stammered, his voice pitched an octave too high. “I—congratulations on the engagement—I mean, I didn't know you and Miss Parker—she’s just an employee in payroll—she doesn't—symbolically speaking—”

“She is not an employee anymore,” Nathaniel interrupted, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. “Effective as of midnight, Miss Parker’s contract has been bought out in full by Pinehaven Holdings. She now manages my private logistics accounts.”

Daniel’s jaw dropped. The sapphire bracelet on Madeline’s wrist suddenly looked like a very small consolation prize compared to the seismic shift happening in front of them.

“And one more thing, Reeves,” Nathaniel added, leaning in just a fraction of an inch closer. “If I ever see you look in her direction again—let alone speak to her—I won't just fire you from Blackridge. I’ll ensure you never work another day in the state of Wyoming. Do we understand each other?”

Daniel swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing violently. “Yes, sir. Perfectly.”

“Good.”

Nathaniel turned me away from them, his hand firm and warm against my back, guiding me out through the grand double doors of the ballroom into the quiet, vaulted marble foyer of the lodge.

The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind us, cutting off the suffocating noise of the gala, the music, and the whispers.

We stood alone beneath a massive crystal chandelier in the empty lobby. My breath came in shallow, shaky gasps, the adrenaline finally crashing down and leaving my legs weak.

“You didn't have to do that,” I whispered, looking up at the pale scar on his temple. “You just declared war on the Blackridge Alliance for someone you don't even know.”