Erin didn't think it was possible to feel so many things at once: flustered, annoyed, humiliated, and—if she were being painfully honest—still mildly giddy.
She hadn't said a word since Evan left.
Xander had finally let her off his lap after breakfast ended—though not without a smug grin that she desperately wanted to slap off his face. Unfortunately for her, her heart hadn't exactly caught up to the anger part yet. It was still stuck somewhere between he kissed my neck like it was normal and why didn't I stop him faster?
She retreated to her room the moment breakfast ended, shutting the door with a soft thud and pressing her back to it.
Tonight was the gala.
She was supposed to be composed. Poised. Forgettable.
Not the girl Evan just caught sitting on his brother's lap while being—fed.
There was a knock not five minutes later. Before she could even answer, two maids slipped in with polite bows and a rack full of gowns trailing behind them.
"The young master asked that you be dressed early, Miss Lane," one of them said.
"He said to spare no effort," the other added with a giggle that made Erin internally groan.
"Of course he did," she muttered under her breath.
—
Three hours.
That's how long they spent on her.
Hair curled and swept into a low twist, with soft pieces left loose to frame her face. Makeup light but elegant. And the dress…
Erin had to pause when she saw herself in the mirror.
It was nothing like she'd worn before. The gown was a deep navy blue, almost black, with a shimmer that moved like liquid when she turned. Off-shoulder. Fitted bodice. A slit up the side that made her legs feel far more exposed than she was used to.
And yet, she didn't look awkward. She looked…
Like she belonged in the room she was supposed to blend into.
There was a knock, firm and brief, and then the door creaked open.
"You ready?"
Xander's voice. His usual cool confidence.
She turned—and he paused mid-step.
For the first time since she met him, Xander was visibly taken aback. His eyes swept over her slowly, brows lifting.
"Well," he said after a beat. "I was going to say something smug, but I think I forgot how to talk."
Erin blinked. Then flushed.
"You're not too bad yourself," she muttered, eyeing the way his suit cut sharp angles across his broad frame. The dark charcoal matched her gown too well to be a coincidence. Of course he'd planned it.
"Not bad?" he echoed. "Wow. I wear a tailored Armani and I get not bad."
She rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile. "Are we late?"
He smirked, offering his arm. "We will be if you keep distracting me."
She hesitated before placing her hand on his forearm, careful not to look at him too long. He didn't comment on her hesitation—but his hand moved over hers once she settled beside him.
Firm. Warm. Intentional.
As they made their way down, the estate buzzed with activity. Staff moving about. Cars ready outside. Evan stood in the foyer, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. His eyes flicked up at their approach—and immediately, Erin tensed.
He didn't smile. Didn't glare, either. But his expression was unreadable, lips pressed in a fine line.
Xander didn't bother softening the tension. "Nice of you to wait."
Evan's gaze moved from his brother to Erin. "Of course. Wouldn't want to leave anyone behind."
There was a double meaning there. Erin felt it settle in her chest like cold water.
"We'll be taking the main car," Xander said, already steering her past him.
Evan's voice followed them like a chill. "Try not to be too late. People talk."
Erin felt the comment burn at her back—but Xander didn't react. He opened the car door for her, waited for her to settle in, and slid in after with the kind of casual grace only someone used to power could manage.
The car rolled away.
The gala awaited.
And Erin had no idea what part of her night would unravel first—the scandal Evan already knew, or the secrets still hidden behind her carefully placed mask.