Chapter 5

Eleonore pulled at the handle, but the glass door was stuck – or perhaps her rain‑slicked fingers simply slipped. She was still outside, under the narrow awning, when a second later the sky ripped open.

Heavy, freezing raindrops slammed into the stone patio.

Eleonore gasped. She threw her hands over her head, trying to protect her velvet dress from the sudden downpour.

She looked around frantically.

Leaning against a Roman pillar near the door was a long, clear plastic umbrella left for the guests.

She ran to it, grabbed the handle, and pushed the canopy open.

She let out a breath of relief as the rain hammered against the plastic shield.

She turned around to pull the door open again.

Through the rain, she saw him.

He was still standing in the exact same spot by the stone railing. He wasn't moving. The heavy rain was soaking into his tailored suit, flattening his dark hair against his forehead.

Eleonore groaned. Her chest tightened. She stared at the man getting drenched in the freezing downpour. Her mind raced. If he really was one of Bradley's elite rivals, letting him catch pneumonia on the night of the gala could cause a massive PR headache for the host committee. Or worse, Bradley could be blamed for the hostility. It was a weak excuse, and she knew it. The truth was, she couldn't just leave a human being standing out there looking so utterly isolated, no matter how arrogant he was. She couldn't abandon her basic decency just because he was a jerk. She bit her lip, gripped the umbrella handle tighter, and walked back out into the storm.

She stopped right in front of him. She lifted her arm, tilting the clear umbrella so it covered his head.

He looked down at her. The water was dripping from his jaw.

The space under the umbrella was incredibly small.

Eleonore was standing so close to him that she could feel the heat radiating off his chest.

She could hear the slow, heavy thud of his heartbeat over the sound of the rain.

She felt completely overwhelmed by his physical presence. She dropped her gaze, staring at his chest to avoid his eyes.

Her eyes locked onto his lapel.

Pinned to the wet fabric was an antique brooch. It was a complex web of gold filigree, holding a massive, flawless black diamond in the center.

Eleonore's breath hitched.

She recognized the technique immediately. It was a lost art.

She forgot about the rain. She forgot about the terrifying man wearing it.

She rose up on her tiptoes, leaning her face closer to his chest to inspect the microscopic gold wires.

Her warm breath brushed against his wet shirt. It smelled faintly of vanilla and champagne.

Every muscle in Keaton's body locked tight.

His jaw clenched. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. His eyes darkened to pitch black.

He thought she was making her move. He thought she was finally dropping the act.

He raised his hand, fully intending to wrap his fingers around her waist and pull her flush against him.

"The tension on these wires is impossible," Eleonore whispered to herself, completely mesmerized. "How did they cast the gold this thin without snapping it?"

Keaton's hand stopped in mid‑air.

He stared at the top of her head.

She wasn't looking at him. She was looking at a piece of dead metal.

A harsh, ugly wave of frustration hit him. He dropped his hand back to his side, his fingers curling into a tight fist.

Eleonore lowered herself back to her heels. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and shining with excitement.

She opened her mouth to ask him where he got it.

"Eleonore!"

The sharp, panicked voice sliced through the rain.

Eleonore jumped. She spun her head around.

Kierra was standing under the awning, waving her arms frantically. "Where are you? We have to go!"

Eleonore's heart leaped into her throat. The spell broke.

She looked back at the man.

"Sorry. My friend is looking for me," she blurted out.

She shoved the handle of the umbrella directly into his large hand.

She turned and sprinted through the rain, leaving him standing alone under the clear plastic dome.