She's working the room like she owns it," Rhett muttered, eyes locked on Savannah across the ballroom.
"She's your wife," Weston Blackwell replied, sipping champagne beside him. "You sure you want to say that out loud?"
Rhett didn't answer. His gaze never wavered. Savannah stood beneath the chandelier in navy satin and silver heels, laughing softly at something Lawrence Granger a billionaire architect had said. Her fingers brushed his suit sleeve like it was casual, innocent. But Rhett knew better.
"She's wearing my name," Rhett said. "But she's not acting like it."
"Maybe that's the point," Weston said. "You made her a Callahan. But you forgot to ask if she wanted to play one."
Rhett downed his scotch in one motion, the burn doing nothing to settle the irritation curling in his chest. "She's performing."
"She's making you watch." Weston chuckled. "I admire it."
Rhett didn't. Not the way her eyes shimmered beneath the crystal lights. Not the way her laugh made heads turn. She wasn't trying to be the center of attention. She simply was.
He set his glass down hard. "Excuse me."
"Going to mark your territory?" Weston teased.
"I'm going to find my wife."
When Rhett looked back across the ballroom, she was gone.
Savannah moved quickly through the sea of guests, her breath catching as the heat of the room pressed against her back. She didn't know why she left not really. She only knew that the moment she saw Rhett watching her and then deliberately looking away, something inside her twisted.
She needed space.
She pushed through the terrace doors into open air.
The scent of jasmine struck her first, then the chill of night curling around her skin. The Arizona breeze lifted her curls, whispered against her collarbone. She closed her eyes. Just a few minutes. That's all she needed.
"Didn't take you long to flee the spotlight," came a voice behind her.
Savannah's eyes snapped open. Blair Montrose stepped onto the balcony in a crimson gown that clung to her body like a warning. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.
"You're following me now?"
"I follow drama. You're dripping in it."
"Careful. You're starting to sound like the press."
Blair walked to the railing, letting her fingers trail along the stone. "It's funny watching you pretend. You think you fit here? You think you've won?"
"I think I married the man whose name you keep trying to reclaim," Savannah said calmly.
Blair's smile turned sharp. "You think this marriage means something? You're a social bandaid. A headline fixer. You're a contract in heels."
Savannah turned to face her fully. "And yet here you are cornering me in the dark like a jealous ex."
"I'm warning you," Blair said, stepping closer. "You don't know what you've walked into."
"No, Blair. I think you're just pissed he didn't choose you."
"You're a legacy of theft," Blair snapped. "I know what your father did. I know who he ruined. I know what you're hiding behind that pretty face and tight dress."
"And I know you're desperate."
"One word from me and you're finished. Headlines. Investigations. He won't protect you. He'll cut you loose the second you cost him."
"Try me," Savannah said coldly.
"You don't belong in his world."
Savannah's voice was razor-thin. "Neither do you. You're not even in the room anymore."
Blair's hand shot out. The slap never came. Savannah moved first.
Her palm struck Blair's cheek hard and fast.
Blair gasped, her head snapping sideways. Her hand flew to her face. "You bitch."
Savannah's chest heaved. "Leak it. Spill whatever poison you have. But when it's done watch what burns first."
Blair lunged. Her push landed squarely against Savannah's shoulders.
Savannah stumbled. Her heel caught the edge of the stone. Her back slammed into the balcony's glass railing. She gasped.
She slipped.
Below her three stories of marble and iron.
"Savannah!"
Rhett's voice cut through the dark.
He ran.
His hand shot forward, gripping her wrist just as her weight tipped over.
Her other hand caught the edge of the railing.
His fingers locked tight around hers.
"I've got you."
Her breath hitched. She couldn't move. Her body trembled.
He pulled her forward in one forceful motion. She landed hard against him, his arm slipping around her waist to keep her upright.
Blair staggered back, eyes wide.
Rhett turned to her, face carved in rage. "Touch her again, and I swear to God I'll erase you from every circle that matters."
Blair said nothing.
He stepped closer. "You think I won't? Test me."
She spun and stormed back inside.
Rhett looked down at Savannah. "Are you hurt?"
"No."
"You're shaking."
"I'm fine."
He loosened his hold but didn't let go.
"Why did you follow me?" she asked.
"Because I knew something like this would happen."
"Because you don't trust her?"
"Because I don't trust anyone near you right now. Including myself."
She looked up, eyes searching his. "You're not as cold as you pretend."
"I'm not as in control as I used to be."
They stood like that, not moving, not speaking.
Then
"Let's go, Mrs. Callahan."
Inside, flashbulbs exploded. Paparazzi fired a storm of light at them as they reentered the ballroom.
They didn't touch. But the tension clung to them like perfume.
Someone whispered, "What happened on the balcony?"
Another voice asked, "Did he pull her back?"
Savannah's grip tightened on her champagne flute. Her wrist still ached.
At the bar, Rhett poured himself another drink.
"You didn't have to catch me," she said quietly.
"I didn't think. I just moved."
"You're always thinking."
"Not with you."
She turned toward him. "Why are you afraid of me?"
He met her gaze. "Because you make me feel things I spent years killing."
Her voice softened. "That sounds like your problem, not mine."
"Maybe it is. But now it's ours."
"Is it?"
"You're my wife."
"By contract."
"And yet, here I am, pulling you off ledges and threatening women in red dresses."
She smiled faintly. "I never asked you to."
"I know."
"Then why did you?"
"Because I couldn't stand the thought of losing you even if you're not mine."
She looked at him for a long moment. "You're breaking your own rules, Rhett."
He lifted his glass. "So are you."
They stood in the corner of the ballroom, the storm of flashes behind them, the press watching every move. But for one moment, no one else existed.
Savannah whispered, "You weren't supposed to care."
"I didn't want to."
"And now?"
He set the glass down. "Now I'm not sure where this ends."
"I do."
"Where?"
She leaned in, voice low. "In fire."
Rhett's eyes darkened. "Then let it burn."