Chapter 25
The grand ballroom of Crestwood Manor shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, their light refracting across the sea of masked guests. Evelyn Sinclair adjusted her Venetian half-mask, the delicate silver filigree cool against her fingertips. Across the room, Sebastian Blackwood stood like a dark sentinel, his onyx mask doing little to conceal the predatory gleam in his eyes.
“Miss Whitmore,” Tristan Gallagher murmured, appearing at her elbow with two champagne flutes. “Your brother requested I remind you about the Verona Arts Academy trustees by the east terrace.”
Evelyn accepted the glass with a tight smile. “Tell Nathan I’ll handle them after I’ve survived this waltz with Dominic Whitmore.” Her gaze flickered to where her youngest brother was charming a group of socialites with his boyish grin.
The string quartet transitioned into a haunting rendition of “Moonlight Sonata” as the crowd parted like the Red Sea. Vanessa Delacroix made her entrance in a scandalous crimson gown, her ruby-encrusted mask winking with every calculated step toward Sebastian.
“Predictable as always,” Evelyn muttered into her champagne. The bubbles stung her tongue like tiny accusations.
A gloved hand caught her wrist. “Dance with me.”
Sebastian’s command sent shivers down her spine. Before she could refuse, he’d swept her onto the parquet floor, his grip firm enough to bruise. “You’re avoiding me,” he accused, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.
“Observant as ever, Mr. Blackwood.” Evelyn matched his steps perfectly, their bodies moving in a dangerous harmony. “I hear congratulations are in order. When’s the wedding?”
His fingers tightened. “You know damn well—”
“Evelyn darling!” Madeline Whitmore’s shrill interruption was a welcome dagger. “The mayor’s wife is simply dying to discuss your little charity project.”
As Evelyn extricated herself, she caught the murderous glare Sebastian shot toward the terrace doors. Following his gaze, she saw Maxwell Reeves in urgent conversation with Donovan Whitmore. The normally composed secretary was gesturing wildly toward the gardens.
The music swelled as Evelyn slipped through the crowd, the humid night air hitting her face like a slap. Behind the topiary hedge, two figures argued in hushed, frantic tones.
“—can’t delay the shipment again,” Donovan was hissing. “If Sterling Industries gets wind of—”
The snap of a twig beneath Evelyn’s heel silenced them. Maxwell’s eyes widened comically before schooling into blank professionalism. “Miss Whitmore. Lovely evening.”
“Indeed.” Evelyn tilted her head, letting the moonlight catch her mask’s silver edges. “Though I do wonder what could be so urgent it interrupts our family’s gala?”
Donovan’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Just finalizing details for your father’s birthday surprise, cousin.”
The lie hung between them, thick as the gardenia-scented air. As Evelyn turned to leave, a glint of metal near the rose bushes caught her attention—a familiar signet ring half-buried in the soil. The Sterling family crest.
Her pulse kicked. Gideon Sterling hadn’t been invited tonight. So why was his ring here, beneath the blood-red blooms?
Back inside, the music reached a fever pitch. Across the ballroom, Sebastian’s gaze locked onto hers like a heat-seeking missile. Evelyn raised her champagne flute in mocking salute just as the first scream tore through the night.
The crystal shattered at her feet as the lights went out.
After ending the call with Nathan, Tristan entered the office with visible irritation.
“Ms. Evelyn, Sebastian Blackwood is here—again.” He scoffed. “The man has no shame. If only he put this much effort into insurance sales.”
Evelyn didn’t look up from the documents she was signing. “I admire his persistence. Not many would go to such lengths for someone they love.”
Despite her indifferent tone, Tristan caught the sharp edge beneath it. Was he imagining things?
“Ms. Evelyn, I’ll personally ensure he doesn’t get past the lobby this time.”
“No.” She finally capped her pen, arching a brow. “Bring him in.”
Tristan blinked. “Excuse me?”
“He’s clearly desperate to see me. Shouldn’t I at least show the president of Blackwood Enterprises some courtesy?”
Evelyn stretched her legs forward, and Tristan hurried to slide her heels on.
“Find me a sharp-tongued waitress—preferably from one of the cafés downstairs. I have a task for her.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tristan returned with Isabelle Laurent, a petite brunette who fit Evelyn’s description perfectly.
“N-Nice to meet you, Ms. Evelyn,” Isabelle stammered, barely daring to breathe.
“Relax.” Evelyn smiled. “I have a small job for you. There’ll be a generous reward.”
“I don’t need payment! Just being here is an honor.” Isabelle’s cheeks flushed. “I’m a huge fan!”
Evelyn’s grin widened. “Good. Our figures are similar. Tristan, fetch her one of my outfits—shoes included.”
Tristan hesitated but obeyed.
Once alone, Isabelle clasped her hands. “How can I help you, Ms. Evelyn?”
Evelyn leaned in. “There’s a meeting scheduled with Mr. Blackwood. Frankly, I can’t be bothered. You’ll be my stand-in.”
Isabelle’s knees nearly buckled.
“Don’t panic.” Evelyn handed her wireless earpieces. “I’ll guide you through it. Just act natural.”
After countless failed attempts, Sebastian finally secured an audience with Evelyn.
Outwardly composed, his stomach churned with anticipation.
Maxwell led him and Nathaniel toward the elevator. Female employees whispered as they passed, drawn to Sebastian’s striking presence.
When Nathaniel reached for the button, Charlotte stopped him. “This elevator is reserved for Ms. Evelyn. You’ll take the other one.”
Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Who does she think she is?”
Sebastian remained unfazed—he had his own private elevator at Blackwood Enterprises.
The elevator ascended smoothly until it halted abruptly on the 30th floor.
“This way,” Charlotte said.
Nathaniel frowned. “Wait, Ms. Evelyn’s office is on the 40th, isn’t it?”
“Correct. But this elevator doesn’t go higher.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
Nathaniel exploded. “Is this some kind of joke? Treating guests like this is outrageous!”
Charlotte remained impassive. “My job is to follow orders. If you’re unhappy, I can escort you back down.”
Sebastian clenched his fists. “We’ll take the stairs.”
He strode toward the emergency exit, determination burning in his chest.
Did she really think petty obstacles would deter me?
Not a chance.
