Even before the gala, Riley felt the tension thick as silk threads pulled too tight. Vincent kept his distance all week, brushing past her in the atelier with only clipped words and unreadable eyes. She told herself it was for the best—space was safer. But as flashbulbs pulsed around her on the carpet, his presence became all she could feel, magnetized across the room in his perfectly fitted suit, the air humming with anticipation and nerves. On her arm, Luca cracked jokes, weaving Riley through the crowd, but she only half-laughed, gaze always drifting back to Vincent, aching with want and anger she refused to confess.

Behind her, Delaney stalked the press line, smile razor-sharp as she fielded questions about the brand’s next collection. She didn’t let her jealousy show, but it simmered hot beneath her composure. She hated how the cameras loved Riley, how Vincent’s gaze lingered on her newest star. Delaney called the shots, kept PR disasters at bay, yet tonight she felt outmaneuvered—her control slipping as she watched Riley and Vincent, both stubborn, both flammable, circling the venture they’d sworn was only for the show.

By midnight, the ballroom vibrated with champagne and rivalry. Riley caught Vincent’s eye across the crowded floor, her pulse staccato. They met by the shadowed staircase. A beat of silence, taut and fragile.

“Why are you avoiding me?” she breathed, her fingers trembling against the rail.

He shook his head, jaw clenched. “I thought it would protect you. Protect us.” His usual detachment faltered, and the hurt in his voice ignited something reckless in her.

Riley grabbed his wrist, dragging him down the hallway. They slammed into the bathroom stall, mouths colliding, all pretense obliterated. She pressed against the cool marble wall, gasping as his hands tangled in her hair, as she fumbled his jacket free, nails grazing hot skin. Their need had an edge—anger, longing, the sharpness of too many unsaid things. She bit his lip, he groaned, and she shivered as his mouth traced down her neck, desperation eclipsing caution. He pressed inside her, and every lie they’d told the world dissolved in a torrent of want: her legs curled around him, his name a secret cry muffled against his shoulder, each thrust a plea and an apology.

After, they lingered, breathless and silent. He cupped her cheek, thumb swiping away a tear she hadn’t meant anyone to see.

“We keep doing this,” Riley whispered, voice unsteady. “It’s going to break us.”

Vincent kissed her, softer this time, regret thick between them. “I know.”

Outside, flashbulbs exploded as Delaney battled investors and the press, her voice brittle but fierce. She caught a glimpse of Vincent and Riley rejoining the party, hair mussed, cheeks flushed—and for a moment, her composure splintered. She forced herself back into the ring, heart slamming as the precarious world she’d built teetered on the edge.

After the gala, Riley slipped out into the night air. Luca found her by the curb, vulnerable in her wrinkled silk. He wrapped his jacket over her shoulders, blue eyes wide and searching.

“I saw you with him,” he whispered, pain fraying his voice. “I get it. You want him. But, Riley, I’m still here.”

She pressed her forehead to his, torn between guilt and gratitude. “I know, Luca. I don’t know what I want. I keep...burning everything down.”

He held her a little too tightly, as though he could anchor her. The words he wanted to say hung between them, heavy and unfinished.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Tessa cornered Vincent at the bar, tracing a nail down his arm, pressing her secrets into his ear. “Careful, V. They’ll eat you alive if you’re not ruthless enough.” Her wink was venomous, and Vincent knew she was right.

Outside, in the silvery shadows beyond the valet line, a woman watched Riley from across the street—her eyes familiar, haunted, waiting for the right moment to step into the light.

To be continued...