The stranger's presence at the gala was like a crack in the glass—subtle, but enough to set Aurora Sage's instincts on fire. He hadn't approached, hadn't spoken, but his gaze was too deliberate, too sharp to belong to another Hollywood sycophant drunk on champagne and star power.
Aurora's muscles were taut beneath her dress, her hand itching for a weapon she didn't have. Her life had always been about slipping through danger unseen. Now, Logan Mason had dragged her into the center of the spotlight, leaving her exposed.
Logan, oblivious to subtlety as always, didn't bother to hide the way he studied the man across the ballroom. His arrogance was palpable, his posture daring the stranger to look back. When the man's eyes briefly flicked toward Logan, Aurora tensed.
"Don't," she muttered under her breath, fingers digging into Logan's sleeve.
He looked down at her with infuriating calm. "Don't what?"
"Don't provoke him. Not here."
