Maeve’s POV
Alexander throws an engagement party that makes the Dareth gala look like a kid's birthday party. He rented the Met's entire Egyptian wing, filling it with an orchestra and every major player in New York.
The air is thick with money, power, and the kind of champagne that costs more than my old apartment's rent.
I'm in emerald silk that fits like a second skin, and my mother's diamonds are heavy around my neck. They're real stones with real history, a cold weight I'm still learning to carry.
Caelen's in a tux that makes him look like he could kill someone with his bare hands and make it look like an accident. The scar on his jaw catches the light when he turns his head, a reminder that he's not just some corporate executive playing dress-up.
He's dangerous. Was dangerous long before he put on Armani and learned boardroom politics.
"You clean up nice,"I tell him, watching the way the tux fits his shoulders.
His smile is dark as his eyes rake over me. "You're fucking stunning."
Not beautiful. Not pretty. Stunning. Like I'm a weapon he's proud to carry.
I kind of love it.
The party's in full swing when they arrive. Uninvited. Desperate fucking move.
Security tries to stop them at the entrance but Victoria Dareth bulldozes through like she still owns rooms just by walking into them. Last season's Chanel trying to pass as current. Pearls that probably haven't left her neck since 1987.
Victoria bulldozes through security, but she looks small here in last season's Chanel. Marcus is already drunk, and Vera is pathetically filming everything for her dying social media following.
Karma's a bitch with a long memory and a smartphone.
And Kael.
First time I've faced him since becoming untouchable. Since becoming Maeve Welch instead of Maeve Winters, the orphan playing dress-up in his world.
He looks destroyed. Thinner, with dark shadows under the blue eyes that used to look at me like I was oxygen. He's here with Gia on his arm, but all his polished shine is gone. Good.
I slide closer to Caelen, laughing at something he just said about hostile takeovers and corporate bloodbaths. His arm settles around my waist. Possessive. Public. Claiming me in front of everyone who ever thought I wasn't worth claiming.
I catch Kael's face across the room. He's watching us. Watching me. That look I remember from Princeton when other guys would talk to me—jealous, possessive, mine.
Except I'm not his anymore. Haven't been his since he announced Gia at that gala and shattered everything we built.
His jaw clenches. Something feral crosses his face—jealousy, rage, desperation, all of it bleeding through whatever control he's trying to maintain.
Then he moves. Grabs Gia and kisses her.
Hard. Passionate. Theatrical as fuck.
Look at me, Maeve. Look what I can do too. Look what you're missing.
My stomach twists. Not jealousy exactly—something uglier. Vindictive satisfaction mixed with residual hurt that I hate myself for feeling.
Fuck this. Fuck him. Fuck playing nice.
I slide even closer to Caelen, hand trailing up his chest. Slow. Deliberate. Making sure anyone watching can see exactly what I'm doing.
My lips near his ear. Close enough I can smell his cologne, feel the heat of his skin.
"Kiss me," I whisper. Voice low, deliberately seductive. "Make it convincing."
Caelen's eyes meet mine. Dark. Assessing. He knows exactly what I'm doing, sees the game I'm playing.
"Using me to make him jealous?" he murmurs.
"Absolutely."
His smile is dark promise. "Good."
Then he kisses me.
Not performative. Not for show. Possessive.
His hand slides into my hair, angling my head exactly where he wants it. Body against mine, hard and solid and real. Claiming my mouth like he owns it, like he's been thinking about this since the moment we met.
I gasp into the kiss. Surprised by the intensity, by how good it feels, by the heat that floods through me like liquid fire.
He takes advantage. Deepens the kiss, tongue sliding against mine, teeth catching my bottom lip in a way that makes my knees weak.
I forget this was supposed to be fake. Forget we have an audience. Forget everything except the taste of him, the feel of his hands on my body, the way he's kissing me like he's been starving for it.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard. His pupils are blown wide, hand still tangled in my hair. The music seems to have faded. The entire room is watching.
"Maeve." Kael's voice. It’s not a whisper. It's a low, guttural growl that cuts through the silence.
I turn. He's shaking. Not with sadness. With pure, primal rage. Gia is trying to hold his arm, but he doesn't even notice her.
"Get your hands off my wife," he snarls at Caelen. Caelen's hand tightens, moving from my hair to rest possessively on my waist.
He doesn't raise his voice. "She doesn't look like your wife tonight." That's the trigger.
Kael lunges. He doesn't even go for Caelen. He's a coward. He lunges for me, his hand grabbing my arm.
"You're mine, Maeve! You're coming with me!" His grip is bruising, desperate. Before I can even react, Caelen moves. It's not a fight. It's an execution.
Caelen intercepts Kael's wrist, twists it in a way that makes Kael cry out, and shoves him back. Hard. Kael stumbles, crashing into a waiter's tray. Champagne glasses shatter.
Alexander's voice booms. "Security! Get him out. Get all of them out!" Two security guards grab Kael by the arms.
The billionaire polish is gone. He's just a pathetic, screaming man being dragged across the floor of the Met.
"You can't do this!" he screams, fighting them. "Maeve! He's using you! YOU ARE MINE!"
Victoria is shrieking at the guards. Vera is, of course, filming the whole thing, tears streaming down her face. It's a pathetic, disastrous circus. They're dragged out into the night.
The heavy museum doors close, sealing the room in silence. My arm is throbbing where Kael grabbed me. I'm shaking.
Caelen turns to me, his face grim. His hand comes up, his thumb gently brushing the skin on my arm where Kael's fingers were.
"Are you alright?" I look at the doors that just slammed shut on my past. He didn't look like a threat. He looked... desperate. Broken.
I nod, my breath steadying. I look up at Caelen, at the man who didn't just watch, but acted. "I am now." The orchestra starts playing again.