Chapter 8 On the night of Fashion Week, I was backstage when my hair got caught on the lace at my neckline. The door to the changing room swung open. Samuel leaned against the frame and gave a low whistle. "Need a knight to rescue the damsel in distress?" "Mr. Rowland, your chivalry is a little misplaced," I said, my cheeks burning as I reached to tug the strands free, only for him to catch my wrist. "Don't move." I have no idea where he produced a pair of silver scissors. The cold edge grazed my neck. "Relax. I used to adjust the waistline on my mom's dresses all the time." As the snipped strands sifted to the floor, Samuel's breath brushed against the nape of my neck. The light overhead flickered. In the crisscrossing shadows, the mirror caught us, almost pressed together. He idly wound a loose lock of my hair around his finger until the host's countdown drifted in from the stage. "Time to go," Samuel said, stepping back half a pace. He slipped the scissors into his pocket, resuming his usual air of easy composure. "Remember, all the applause tonight belongs to the bird that broke out of its cage." During the curtain call, I stood backstage watching Samuel work the room. In his suit, he looked as if he were wearing a perfect mask. Only when the crowd finally thinned did he tug loose his tie and step straight into the rain. He turned and held out his hand. "Come on. I want to show you something." His black Maybach cut through the night and came to a halt at the cliff above the sea. As if performing a magic trick, Samuel lifted a metal cage from the trunk. Inside, a dozen white doves beat their wings. "Now this is the true curtain call for the 'Caged Bird'." He flicked the latch. Moonlight poured over their wings, striking silver. "Come on, Ms. Stockwell, set them free yourself." My hands trembled as I stroked the doves' feathers. The live beat of their wings prickled my palms. When the last dove burst free from the cage, Samuel wrapped his arms around me from behind, his soaked suit clinging to the thin fabric on my back. "Feels like they're flying for you." 1/2 Chapter 8 His lips grazed my earlobe before he pulled away. "Sorry, I got carried away." +25 Bonus I caught the hand he tried to pull back and turned, kissing the corner of his mouth. I tasted the sea's salt on my lips and citrus on him. He went still for a beat, then cupped the back of my head and deepened the kiss until the crash of the waves swallowed every sound. There were a lot of loopholes in the finances at Kyle's company. Under Ruby's calculated retaliation, the whole thing finally came apart. She'd combined the company's books with Kyle's personal accounts. The fabricated transfers coiled around his throat like a nest of vipers. The board turned on him overnight, and headlines about his alleged embezzlement were everywhere. Kyle kicked open Ruby's office door, his eyes red and feral. "Was it you?" Unhurried, Ruby went on painting her nails the shade of dried blood. "Mr. Grayson, didn't you suspect me from the start? Why confront me only now?" She slapped a thick stack of grainy shots onto the desk. They showed Kyle slipping in and out of a private club after midnight. "Tell me, if these were to leak, would that 'devoted man' image of yours hold up?" Kyle clenched his fists and let out a cold, humorless laugh. "And you think I didn't keep copies of the evidence of your father's smuggling?" The air turned brittle. Ruby's nail polish bottle struck the floor and shattered. A week later, Ruby's father was arrested on smuggling charges, and all of the Callahans' assets were frozen. Kyle's company was swept into a forensic audit and soon went bankrupt. The once-glorious office building now had court- ordered seizure notices taped across its doors. "We're even, Kyle." Ruby paused at the airport security checkpoint with her suitcase. Her face was drawn, like a rose past its prime.