Azreal's hand settled at her waist the moment they stepped further inside, his fingers firm, almost possessive as he drew her just a fraction closer to his side. Valerie stiffened slightly at the contact, her instinct to pry his hand away rising immediately, but before she could act on it, they were surrounded.
People approached from all directions, their smiles polished, their voices eager.
"Mr. Hawthorne, it's been a while."
"I heard about the recent developments—congratulations."
"Azreal, you've outdone yourself this time."
He responded with ease, nodding, offering brief replies, his expression composed yet faintly amused, as if none of this required effort. Then, almost as an afterthought, his gaze flicked toward her.
"This is my wife," he said smoothly, his hand tightening slightly at her waist. "Valerie Hawthorne."
Valerie's breath caught for the briefest moment.
Hawthorne.
