Music and chatter faded as mid–ight wrapped the garden in quiet. Thy lights lined the paths while moonlight bounced off the pond and abandoned glasses. 

Matthew fell into step beside Irene, gravel crunching under their feet 

“What was that about?” He nodded toward the mansion. “Wright cornered you for ages. Looked intense.” 

Irene shrugged. “Nothing worth repeating. She offered job connections one minute, then tried introducing me to this brilliant doctor‘ she knows the next.” She shot him a look. “Apparently you’re quite the catch around here.” 

Matthew’s face hardened. “She said that? About introducing you to me?” 

“Among other things.” Irene waved it off. “She’s got her own take on everything,” 

“I didn’t expect her to be so calculating.” His voice dropped. “Watch yourself with her. Women like that bite when you’re not looking.” 

“Trust me, Samantha Wright isn’t keeping me up at night,” Irene replied, touching his arm. “I’ve handled worse.” 

They chatted a bit longer until Matthew checked his watch and winced. 

“Grandfather will send out search dogs if I don’t get back,” he said. “You good out here?” 

“I’ll survive. Go play host.” 

After Matthew disappeared, Irene dropped onto a bench near the pool. Alone at last. Her wineglass caught the moonlight, liquid inside dark as ink. 

She watched her reflection ripple–a woman in black, looking the part of Silver City elite while feeling anything but. Five years gone, and nothing had changed–same games, same rules, same invisible lines sorting people into worthy and worthless. 

Her mind kept circling back to Adam–killing a half–billion–dollar deal over lunch drama. That wasn’t just being nice. It was something deeper, something that made her heart race when she let herself think about it. 

She tipped back her glass without thinking, letting the Hayes vintage slide down her throat. Smooth going down, but she missed the fire building in its wake. 

What are you doing? her inner voice snapped. Haven’t you learned? They welcome you until you no longer fit their story, then cut you loose without blinking. 

Yet Adam felt different. The man who barely grunted when they first met now sought her out, defended her when she wasn’t even around The memory of the beach–his body against hers, mask completely dropped–kept replaying uninvited. 

Warmth spread through her limbs, the wine doing its work. The night didn’t feel so cool anymore. She twirled the half–empty glass, lost in thought. 

Adam wheeled down the path, happy to escape. The party had started to choke him–too many nosy questions, too many fake smiles hiding the hunger for Haven Enterprise secrets. 

Fresh air was his excuse, but his real motivation came clear when he spotted her–Irene, alone by the water. Her black dress hugged curves usually hidden under practical clothes. Something twisted in his chest. 

He’d already known about her connection to Hayes, Seeing them outside together earlier had stirred something unfamiliar–an 

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Chapter 188 

emotion he couldn’t immediately name. 

Yet here he was, seeking her out rather than heading to his waiting river. 

She looked up as he approached, her smile looser than usual. 

“Look who’s here,” she said, amusement warming her voice. 

Adam moved closer, noting how moonlight caught in her eyes, “Too loud in there. Why’re you hiding out here?” 

Irene shook her head slightly. “Not really my scene. Each word came carefully, like she was concentrating harder than usual. 

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He studied her face. He got it completely–these events were performances, not gatherings. Everyone measuring words, tallying advantages, hunting weaknesses. 

“Not my thing either,” he admitted. “Too many obligations to dodge. 

Her eyes locked with his, lingering longer than normal. Something had shifted–the wall between them seemed thinner somehow. 

“Been drinking?” she asked, doctor instincts apparently intact. 

His lips quirked up. “Would I dare cross my doctor?” His voice carried unusual warmth. 

The air between them shifted, like oxygen turning into something harder to breathe. Irene felt heat climbing her cheeks, blaming it on the wine though she knew better.