The dinner was held in a private penthouse overlooking the city, all glass walls and soft golden lighting. Everything about the place whispered luxury and exclusivity. Elena stood beside Victor as guests trickled in, her arm lightly resting against his, her posture calm despite the storm inside her chest.
She felt it almost immediately.
Eyes.
Curious. Assessing. Measuring.
Victor's world was watching her.
"You're doing well," Victor murmured under his breath as he accepted a glass of wine from a server. "Relax your shoulders."
Elena obeyed instinctively, surprised by how easily his quiet command settled her nerves.
Then the air shifted.
A woman entered the room wearing a fitted red dress, confidence rolling off her in waves. She had sleek dark hair, sharp cheekbones, and a smile that looked practiced—dangerously so.
"Victor Hale," the woman said smoothly, approaching them. "It's been too long."
Victor's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second before he masked it with a polite smile. "Camilla."
Elena felt something twist inside her chest.
Camilla's gaze slid to her, slow and deliberate. "And you must be the mystery girl," she said, eyes lingering a little too long. "I've heard whispers."
Elena straightened. "Elena."
"Just Elena?" Camilla asked, arching a brow.
Victor's hand moved—subtle, firm—settling at Elena's lower back.
"She's with me," he said calmly.
The words sent a sharp rush through Elena—heat mixed with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
Camilla's smile didn't falter, but her eyes darkened slightly. "Of course she is."
Throughout the evening, Elena noticed Camilla watching—always circling close, always finding reasons to speak to Victor. She laughed a little too loudly at his comments, touched his arm just a bit too familiarly.
And Victor… allowed it.
That hurt more than Elena wanted to admit.
She stood by his side, playing her role flawlessly, but inside, jealousy coiled tightly. She hated the feeling. Hated that it mattered.
At one point, Victor excused himself to speak with a group of investors. Camilla wasted no time.
"You're new," she said softly, stepping closer. "You won't last."
Elena's spine stiffened. "Excuse me?"
Camilla smiled sweetly. "Women like you come and go. Victor doesn't keep attachments."
Elena met her gaze evenly. "Then why do you look threatened?"
For the first time, Camilla's smile cracked.
Before she could reply, Victor returned, his presence immediately shifting the balance.
"Is there a problem?" he asked coolly.
"No," Camilla said quickly. "We were just talking."
Victor's gaze flicked to Elena. "Did she say something inappropriate?"
Elena hesitated—then shook her head. "No."
Camilla's eyes flashed with triumph.
Victor's jaw tightened slightly. He didn't miss Elena's hesitation.
Later that evening, as the guests began to thin, Victor leaned down and whispered, "You're quiet."
"I'm fine," Elena replied, her voice controlled.
He studied her for a moment. "You're lying."
Before she could respond, he took her hand firmly. "We're leaving."
The car ride back was thick with tension.
"You didn't like Camilla," Victor said calmly.
Elena crossed her arms. "I don't have to like her."
"No," he agreed. "But you reacted."
She snapped her gaze to him. "So what if I did?"
Victor was silent for a long moment. Then, quietly, "Jealousy doesn't suit you."
Her heart dropped. "I'm not jealous."
"Good," he said flatly. "Because you have no reason to be."
The words stung more than she expected.
When they arrived at the mansion, Victor dismissed the driver and turned to her.
"You did well tonight," he said. "But next time, trust me."
She looked up at him. "Trust goes both ways."
Something unreadable crossed his face.
"Go to bed," he said finally. "Tomorrow will be… busy."
Elena walked away with her heart pounding.
Camilla's words echoed in her mind.
You won't last.
And for the first time, Elena wondered if Victor Hale was the real danger—
Or if it was her growing feelings for him.