Martin stepped out onto the terrace.
He had followed them.
His black tuxedo was still immaculate, but his expression was anything but. His jaw was tight, eyes dark with a storm of emotions jealousy, regret, frustration, and something deeper that looked a lot like fear. He stopped a few feet away, hands clenched at his sides.
Fiona turned.
Her breath caught.
Caleb straightened beside her, his posture shifting from relaxed to protective in an instant.
The three of them stood there — the air suddenly thick with tension.
Martin's gaze flicked between Fiona and Caleb, lingering on the way Caleb's hand rested lightly on the small of her back.
"Who is he?" Martin asked, voice low and rough. He was trying to keep it controlled, but the jealousy bled through every word.
Fiona opened her mouth, but Caleb spoke first calm, steady, but with an edge.
"Caleb Reed. Old friend."
Martin's eyes narrowed.
