VALERIA'S POV
"No longer than twenty minutes," Alaric muttered as he adjusted his tie before the Zoom camera flickered on.
The second the door to his private study clicked shut, I moved because I did not have much time.
I reached the heavy oak door only to find a biometric scanner glowing red, which made me scoff before turning toward the kitchen.
My medical training was good for more than just stitching wounds, so I grabbed a fine-mist makeup powder from my bag and a strip of clear adhesive while eyeing the unfinished glass of Scotch sitting on the counter from last night.
I dusted the rim, lifted a perfect print, and huffed a warm breath over the scanner's glass. My hand trembled for a split second, if the tape smudged, I was dead. I pressed the tape. The sensor chirped green, and I slipped inside.
I expected to find a ledger, but what I found instead was a digital folder labeled M.S. It was packed with offshore accounts, forged signatures, and a blackmail dossier on Marcus Sterling.
INot enough to level him, but enough to unravel him.
Alaric isn't a lapdog like i thought, he is a wolf waiting for the moon to rise, just like he did to my father.
I took pictures of the physical files, keeping my hands steady even as my heart raced, and I slipped out just as the twenty-minute mark hit.
Alaric walked into the living room holding a black-and-gold invitation. My eyes snagged on the formal script, his name etched right beside Seraphina's.
An engagement gala.
"Does Seraphina know you are a hypocrite?" I asked, keeping my voice flat. "Your engagement is tomorrow, yet you pinned me against a window last night."
"She knows I do what is necessary," Alaric replied, his eyes cold. "And what is necessary is for you to be at that party."
"What if it is a trap?"
"Marcus would not try anything in public, so be ready by seven tomorrow."
--
THE STERLING ESTATE – 08:00 PM
The ballroom glittered, but every smile felt rehearsed. Per Alaric's order, we arrived in separate cars to avoid suspicion.
I had not been inside for more than five minutes before Seraphina cornered me, looking like a porcelain doll.
She stumbled forward, her glass of red wine tilting toward my chest in what was clearly not an accident.
I caught the glass mid-air with steady hands, the cold stem biting into my palm and the wine barely rippling. I placed it onto a passing waiter's tray before offering her a small very forced smile.
"Be careful, Seraphina. Clumsiness is the first sign of a nervous breakdown."
In another world, I would have been giving a standing up ovation for not pouring that wine on her.
I left her standing there and moved toward the center of the room, where Marcus Sterling rose to give a toast. He looked every bit the perfect patriarch, but I was not listening to a single word he said because my attention was fixed entirely on his tuxedo.
There was a weight in his breast pocket that was too heavy for a handkerchief and too structured for a phone.
Every time someone stepped too close, his hand hovered near it—a physical tell that he was carrying something very important to him.
After the toast, Marcus approached me. I braced myself for confrontation, expecting security to drag me out.
Instead, he wore a yellowed grin that did not reach his eyes, which made my stomach tighten.
"You look radiant tonight, Valeria," he said. The shift in his tone was enough to put me on edge.
He had gone from wanting me gone to addressing me by my first name.
"I did not think you would remember my face, Mr. Sterling," I whispered, forcing a blush to rise.
"How could I forget Alaric's favorite pet? He seems... occupied with you. It keeps him sharp. I like a man with a vice."
He thought I was a leash, something to keep Alaric distracted and easier to control which means he was willing to let me stay close. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and I forced myself not to recoil even as goosebumps rose across my skin from the sheer revulsion.
I leaned into his space slightly and let my breathing turn uneven, playing the part he expected to see.
My hand moved with precision, and two fingers slid into his pocket with practiced ease until I felt the cold surface of metal. As I stumbled lightly against him, I pulled the object free and slipped it into the lace of my garter, the cold metal chilling my thigh as it disappeared.
"Why do you wear heels if you're not so good on them?" Marcus asked, his hand lingering on my waist.
"I guess I'm not as perfect as your daughter."
"Alaric and my princess are perfect," Marcus replied, his voice hardening slightly.
I got the hidden message beneath that sentence.
"I don't touch what belongs to another," I said, meeting his gaze directly.
Technically, Alaric has been the one touching and I reciprocating.
Marcus seemed satisfied, and after a short nod, he drifted away.
I stood alone with a glass of champagne in my hand, the adrenaline finally crashing, leaving a slight tremor in my legs.
"A woman this beautiful shouldn't be alone."
I turned to find a stranger standing beside me with dark hair.
"I've lived in this city my whole life and never seen a face like yours. What do you do?"
"I'm just a secretary. Now, if you'll excuse me—"
He grabbed my arm before I could step away. "Dance with me."
The fuck.
I barely had time to react before I was pulled into a forced waltz. I was still trying to find my footing when the air in the room shifted.
Alaric.
He appeared beside us without warning and tore my hand away from the stranger, his face set in a cold expression that barely concealed his anger.
"She's busy, Dante."
"Is she, Alaric?" Dante asked with a smirk. "Because she looked lonely. Maybe I should—"
"I didn't realize you were on the guest list," Alaric cut in sharply. "I suppose Marcus is letting anyone through the gate these days."
"I'm here for the view," Dante replied, his gaze dragging over me in a way that made my skin prickle. "Yours is exceptional."
"The view is private property," Alaric said as he signaled a waiter. "Take Mr. Thorne to the lounge. He clearly needs a drink."
Dante winked at me as he was led away. "Take care, beautiful lady. Get away from this one."
The moment he was out of sight, Alaric grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a shadowed corner of the terrace. His grip was tight, his thumb pressing into my skin.
"What is it with you and the wrong men?" he asked, his voice low and edged.
"I don't know, Alaric," I whispered, "Would the right man be an engaged one?"