Nerissa’s POV-
Vance’s hand pressed against my back.
A question.
A warning.
“Does his presence here compromise our position?”
I kept my eyes fixed on the Harringtons, my face a mask of perfect composure.
But my knuckles, wrapped around the champagne flute, were bloodless white.
The answer, whatever it was, would be whatever best served the alliance.
“No,” I said, my voice steady.
“It changes nothing.”
”Good.”
I felt his palm press slightly harder against my spine—grounding me.
Or maybe grounding himself.
In this current chaos we had to face, we were all we had.
Across the room, Jovi began to move through the crowd.
Zane was stiff beside her, his jaw tight.
They were coming straight toward us.
-Zane’s POV-”Is that… Nerissa?”
Jovi’s voice was barely a whisper, but I heard the tremor in it.
I didn’t answer.
I couldn’t.
My eyes were locked on my wife.
On Vance Blackwood standing beside her, his head tilted close to hers.
They looked like a unit.
A team.
My chest tightened.
“They look… close,” Jovi murmured, her fingers digging into my sleeve.
“He was supposed to bring some fling. Not her. She wouldn’t do this. Not Nerissa.”
I finally tore my gaze away.
I looked at Jovi.
Her blue eyes were wide, bright with fear.
The old reflex—the one that had defined most of my life—kicked in.
I placed my hand over hers.
The words came out automatically.
“You’re right. She wouldn’t.”
But the lie tasted like ash.
We did, I thought.
What did we think would happen?
Across the room, Nerissa’s gaze flickered toward us.
I saw the exact moment she registered my hand covering Jovi’s.
Something in her face closed off.
A shutter slamming down.
She turned back to Harrington with a smile that didn’t touch her eyes.
Jovi watched me watching her.
The fear in her eyes hardened into something sharper.
She lifted her chin, a perfect, social smile curving her lips.
“It’s just business,” she said, her voice artificially bright.
“Let’s go say hello.”
She didn’t wait.
She locked her arm through mine and steered me forward.
End of Zane’s POV
-Nerissa’s POV-
My gaze flickered toward them.
He saw the exact moment I registered his hand covering Jovi’s.
A shutter slamming down.
I turned back to Harrington with a smile that didn’t touch my eyes.
Vance’s voice was low enough that only I could hear.
“Focus. Smile.”
I did.
I forced a light, polished laugh at something Harrington said.
Jovi watched Zane watching me.
I saw the fear in her eyes harden into something sharper.
She lifted her chin, a perfect, social smile curving her lips.
They reached the group just as Harrington finished a story.
“Jovienne,” the old man said, his jovial expression faltering as he took in the sight of her on Zane’s arm.
His eyes flicked to Vance, then back.
“I heard your mother wasn’t feeling well.”
”A last-minute migraine,” Jovi said smoothly.
She gestured to Zane.
“Mr. Harrington, this is Zane Sullivan. He’s an architect, specializes in sustainable urban projects. I thought he should connect with your grandson’s incubator.”
I watched, my face a mask of polite detachment.
I saw the way Jovi’s hand rested possessively on Zane’s arm.
A tiny muscle twitched near my eye.
Vance noticed.
Harrington nodded, his attention already waning.
“Sustainable design.
Critical work…”
”Sullivan is Nerissa’s husband.” Vance’s voice was a scalpel.
Clean.
Precise.
Utterly calm.
The air around us stilled.
Harrington’s eyebrows shot up.
He looked between the two couples.
Jovi’s smile solidified into a grimace.
Zane’s face drained of color.
“The same name! Of course!” Harrington boomed, his laughter too loud.
“A power couple!” He glanced at Vance’s stony face, then at Jovi’s frozen one, and cleared his throat.
“The Danish ambassador just arrived. Excuse me.”
He fled.
Silence filled the air around us as Harrington left.
Leaving us with a new tension neither wanted to address.
Jovi recovered first.
Her voice was bright, with a subtle, cutting pressure beneath.
“You’re both so dedicated. Even at a party. Vance, you really do demand a lot from your team.”
I met her gaze head-on.
All pretense of friendship was gone.
“The role requires focus. Zane understands professional demands.” I said it to my husband.
A pathetic attempt.
I knew it the second I said it.
Zane ignored the verbal chess game.
He looked only at me. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Can we talk? Please. Just for a minute.”
Vance answered.
He placed his hand firmly on the small of my back.
I felt Jovi’s eyes drop to Vance’s hand.
Then they traveled up to his collar, to the pristine, spotless white cotton.
But in her mind, I saw it.
She was seeing something that wasn’t there.
A phantom stain.
She didn’t see clean cotton.
She saw the shirt she’d found in his study.
The crimson stain.
My lipstick.
I noticed the exact moment her face lost all color.
Her breath hitched.
Her perfect composure fractured for one raw, unguarded second.
Shock, real, sickening shock, washed over her features as the imaginary stain burned in her vision.
I saw the moment of understanding and felt a sharp twist of guilt.
Jovi wasn’t seeing a real mark.
She was seeing a ghost of one.
A ghost I had planted.
I felt myself tremble—just slightly.
Vance must have felt it too.
His fingers pressed more firmly against my spine.
Steady.
“Your conversation could wait. We have a more urgent thing to attend. We’re leaving now,” Vance stated.
He guided me away.
Zane and Jovi were left standing alone.
“Nerissa, you can’t leave me like this. Not again.” Zane tried to stop me.
But I already turned away, let Vance took me from my husband.
As we walked, his hand on my back felt less like a performance and more like an anchor.
A silent message.
We did this.
Together.
We reached the exit.
Vance opened the car door.
Before I got inside, his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
For the first time that night…
his expression changed.
He looked troubled.
“What is this?”
He shoved his phone into his pocket.
“Nothing.”
He said it was nothing.
But I knew it was the first lie Vance Blackwood had ever told me.