Cooler air met her there, perfumed faintly with roses from a vase along the wall. Her heels clicked softly against the marble, measured and deliberate, the sound grounding her as she moved away from the ballroom.
She was halfway down the hall when fingers closed around her wrist.
She turned sharply, startled despite herself, and met Miles Hart's eyes.
Up close, the polish had cracked. The composure she remembered was gone, replaced by something raw and possessive that made her stomach tighten rather than flutter.
"Miles."
"Not here," he hissed. "We need to talk."
He pulled her toward a side door half hidden behind a potted fern. The hinges gave softly as he pushed it open. A small antechamber waited beyond, lamplight low and silence heavy. The door clicked shut behind them, sealing them off from the party.
