R*****K*****
The wind smelt like money, sex, and expensive whiskey. Exactly how these yacht parties usually went.
I stood by the entrance of the Whitmore & Associates Annual Business Gala a ridiculous name for a glorified circle jerk of politicians, corporate dogs, and thirsty socialites trying to kiss each other's asses under dim lights and overpriced champagne.
My cigarette burned between my fingers as cameras flashed, catching my profile like I was some goddamn movie star. Not that I cared. I nodded politely, lips curling slightly as some journalist screamed my name like she wanted me to autograph her panties.
Beside me, Vanessa looped her arm through mine, smiling too perfectly. Dr. Vanessa Caldwell. Daughter of Judge Caldwell one of the most powerful men in the city. Also, the woman I occasionally fucked when the night felt too empty. She looked stunning tonight red lips, black silk dress hugging every curve, poised and expensive. And she knew it.
"You know, Rafael," she purred, leaning close enough for the cameras to catch, "if I were wearing a ring, these vultures would die of jealousy."
I exhaled smoke slowly, not even glancing her way. "And yet, darling, I'm not in the business of giving out rings."
Her smile didn't falter, but her fingers tightened slightly around my arm.
We moved past the flashes, the music soft and classy, expensive laughter floating in the air. Men in overpriced suits and women wrapped in diamonds. I recognized half the faces business partners, fake friends, enemies in tuxedos.
A short, balding man in a navy suit stopped me the second I entered the main lounge. "Mr. Kane! An honor, sir. We've been trying to get a meeting with your office for months."
I gave him a slow smile. "That's because your proposal is boring."
His face twitched, but he laughed like I'd just made the best joke of the night. "Always a straight shooter! That's why you're at the top."
I moved past him without another word.
Vanessa leaned toward me again. "You're enjoying this way too much."
"On the contrary," I muttered, scanning the room. "It's painfully dull."
The conversations circled the same thing mergers, stocks, dirty politics, fake charity talk, and who was fucking who behind closed doors. Everyone shook hands while mentally calculating how much money they could make off the next person.
I tuned them out, sipping my whiskey.
A group of politicians cornered me near the bar.
"Mr. Kane," one of them greeted, wiping sweat off his forehead even though we were on a goddamn yacht in winter. "Still haven't considered our energy project?"
I raised a brow. "When you stop calling it an energy project and admit it's money laundering, maybe I'll consider."
The man laughed too loud, nervous as hell.
Vanessa excused herself for a drink, clearly trying to stay in my space like a wife would. I let her.
As I took another drag of my cigarette, the conversation blending into one another like static, something shifted.
The buzz in the room dipped. Barely. But I caught it.
A subtle pause. A few heads turning toward the entrance.
I didn't look. Not yet.
Instead, I smirked at the sweating politician. "Excuse me, gentlemen."
I turned, rolling my shoulders, sipping my drink.
Then I looked up.
And that's when I saw her.
Valeria Whitmore.
Her name burned at the back of my throat like good whiskey.
She had changed.
Not just in looks I already knew she was beautiful. That was never up for debate. But there was something different in the way she held herself, in the way she moved.
Not stiff. Not forced. Just… aware.
Her husband's hand casually on her lower back like he owned her. Liam Whitmore, I never liked that guy. And Camilla right beside them, smirking, glowing like the poster girl of corporate greed.
Pathetic.
I took a slow drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke curl lazily from my lips as my eyes followed her.
The men around me kept talking, something about government contracts, something about stock options, but it was all white noise now because my mind was definitely elsewhere.
"You're zoning out again." Vanessa's voice cut through my thoughts, her polished smile aimed at one of the executives trying to impress her.
"Am I?" I hummed, sipping my whiskey without taking my eyes off Valeria. "You should get used to it."
Vanessa laughed like I was joking. I wasn't.
I barely noticed the crowd anymore. My attention pinned to the woman across the room. I should have looked away, should have ignored the way my pulse slowed like a predator assessing its prey, but I didn't.
Because I remembered.
Oxford University.
A formal event. Dull speeches, polite applause, and a sea of self-important academics pretending they weren't all trying to climb over each other for status. I had been invited as a special guest a VIP acknowledgment for my "contributions" to the business world. I had almost skipped it. Almost.
Then I saw her.
On stage.
A girl, not a woman. Young, fresh-faced, her dark hair pinned back, smiling as she accepted her award. She spoke clear, eloquent, intelligent. Nothing over the top, nothing exaggerated. Just confident. Naïve.
I had known who she was, of course.
Valeria Devereaux. The heir to an empire that had crumbled and risen again. A name that carried weight.
And now, six years later, she was here.
A married woman.
A woman no longer naïve.
My jaw tensed slightly, my grip on my glass adjusting.
She wasn't the same.
Her dress elegant, but not in a way that screamed for attention. Her makeup minimal, but enough to enhance what was already there. But her aura? That was what had my full attention because it wasn't soft anymore, it wasn't uncertain, it wasn't innocent.
It was controlled and it made me want to ruin it.
And just then...
"Mr. Kane."
A smooth, too-familiar voice slithered beside me.
I glanced away from Valeria and straight into the face of Camilla Whitmore.
Of course.
"Camilla," I greeted, smile lazy, slow. "What a surprise."
V*****D*****
The flash of cameras. The hum of luxury. The weight of the performance.
I stepped onto the yacht with Liam's hand resting on the small of my back, just firm enough to remind me and light enough to look loving.
I Tilted my chin at the right angle. Made eye contact with the right people. The same dance, the same stage, the same expensive masks.
Liam turned toward me, murmuring under his breath. "Smile, darling. You look bored."
I turned my head slightly, my smile widening for the cameras still trailing us. "Then say something entertaining."
His grip at my waist tightened, just a little. Just enough.
"Mr. Whitmore! Mrs. Whitmore!" Someone from the press called out. "Just a few shots..."
Liam, ever the politician, smiled, lifting a hand in a polite wave but kept us moving.
It was all a game.
Everything.
From the way Liam pulled me in closer, like he was making a statement, to the way I let my lips part in that effortless, poised smile. A picture-perfect couple. Untouchable. Powerful.
How easy it was to sell an illusion.
Camilla was just a step behind, her diamond-studded smile in full performance mode as she effortlessly weaved through the crowd. She knew the game better than anyone. Knew how to glide from conversation to conversation, dropping carefully crafted words like gold coins, making people feel important while simultaneously reminding them of their insignificance.
And, as expected, she wasted no time. Within minutes, she was gone drifting toward him.
Ah. Predictable.
Rafael Kane.
I knew the name. Who didn't?
Top of the list. The name whispered in billion-dollar deals, feared in boardrooms, and dragged through countless headlines. I had seen him in passing at galas, in magazine spreads, in clips where men spoke about him like he was both their biggest threat and their only hope.
But I had never met him.
Not officially.
And I wasn't about to start tonight but still he caught my attention. His eyes did.
The way he looked at me, Cool. Unapologetic. Controlled.
Like a man who had already decided something long before I even knew the game had begun.
Interesting.
Then...
A warm breath brushed against my ear. "Why didn't you invite Isla?"
Liam's voice was low, smooth a quiet reprimand dressed in curiosity.
I barely turned my head, my smile still flawless. "Oh?"
His fingers pressed slightly against my back. "That was deliberate."
I tilted my head slightly, just enough for my lips to curve into a soft, knowing smile. "Oh, darling," I murmured, eyes still scanning the room. "I assumed you already had enough entertainment for the night and didn't need any unnecessary distraction out of an important event like this."
His fingers twitched slightly at my waist. A reaction so small, so subtle, but I caught it.
I turned to him, feigning innocence. "Or was I wrong?"
jaw tightened, but the cameras were still rolling, and Liam Whitmore didn't crack in front of an audience. Instead, he smiled the perfect, polished grin of a man who had never known the taste of real consequences.
"Of course not," he said, tone even, hand never leaving my back.
Good boy.
A few guests approached before he could respond three men and two women, all dressed in wealth, carrying the distinct air of people who knew their names carried weight. One of the men, Mr. Caldwell oil money, old money offered a polite smile.
"Mr. Whitmore, Mrs. Whitmore," he greeted. "A pleasure as always. We were just discussing the upcoming expansion project. Thought it would be beneficial to align interests before the quarter closes."
Liam straightened slightly, slipping into his role with ease. "Of course. Whitmore & Associates is always interested in potential partnerships that align with our vision."
Translation: Say the right number, and we'll consider screwing you over gently.
The other woman in the group, a brunette draped in emeralds, turned to me with a polite smile. "Mrs. Whitmore, I must say, you look stunning tonight."
I returned the smile just as politely. "Flattery before negotiations. A classic approach."
A small, amused chuckle from one of the men. The brunette's smile didn't falter, but her eyes sharpened just a touch.
Liam exhaled a quiet laugh, trying to steer the conversation back in his control. "Valeria has always had a sharp mind for business."
"Sharp minds," I mused, tapping a manicured nail against the rim of my champagne glass. "Funny thing about them. Sometimes they see right through what others would rather keep hidden."
I saw the flicker of confusion, the slight hesitation in their expressions. The smallest hint of discomfort in Liam's posture.
They didn't know what I was referring to.
Or maybe they did know maybe they plotted with my sister or husband in taking my empire.. After humans can be very scary when they want to be.
But I hadn't named names. I hadn't pointed fingers.
So no one could call me out.
Liam's hand tensed against my back. I smiled sweetly, letting the conversation breathe for a second before tilting my head.
"Now," I said, my smile returning like nothing had happened, "I think it's time we move on to more pressing matters. Shall we?"
I looked directly at Liam then, making it clear that I wasn't asking for his permission. He wasn't in charge here.
Liam exhaled sharply, clearly annoyed, but he let me take the reins. And for a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy it the satisfaction of watching him squirm under my control.
I didn't give him a chance to speak. I turned to the group and started discussing details they were too eager to impress me with. Until I got bored.
I had played enough.
For now.
Liam picked up the thread of the conversation again, smoothing over whatever tension I had just created. I sipped my champagne, letting my eyes wander briefly.
I turned to look at Kane again still standing across the room as Camilla kept talking about only God knows, his dark gaze unwavering as our eyes met, again.
The moment our eyes locked, I felt it.
That slow, calculated unraveling.
He didn't just look at me. He undressed me. Inch by inch.
Not in the usual way men did with hungry eyes and filthy thoughts they weren't slick enough to hide. No. This was different.
It was methodical. Unpredictable. Calm.
Like he had all the time in the world to strip me bare without lifting a single finger. From the curve of my exposed collarbone to the silk draped over my hips, then further beneath the fabric, beneath the polished surface, peeling me apart layer by layer.
And I hated that it made me pause.
I never paused.
Not since I died.
Not since I crawled out of my own fucking grave, shed my naïve skin, and vowed to never be that helpless little thing again.
But in this moment? I did.
Because I wasn't supposed to feel anything.
And yet, for a split second, something about Rafael Kane made me cautious.
A stranger. A man I barely knew. Someone who had never spoken a single word to me before tonight, yet stood there like he knew me.
Interesting.
My lips curled, just a little.
Because a year ago, at this same event, I had seen him—just a glance, nothing more.
And back then?
He hadn't noticed me.
I wasn't wearing this dress. I wasn't standing like this, shoulders back, head high, exuding power with every controlled breath. No.
Back then, I had been… pathetic.
Clinging to Liam's arm like a devoted wife, wearing soft pastels and softer smiles, playing my role so perfectly that I even convinced myself.
And Rafael?
He had walked past me without a second look.
But now?
Oh, he was looking now.
And I fucking enjoyed it.
I turned away, amusement flickering at the edges of my lips as I placed my glass down and excused myself.
Liam barely had time to react before I was already stepping away, but I felt his fingers twitch slightly, like he wanted to grab my wrist but knew better.
"Valeria..."
I glanced back, just enough to let him see it.
That look.
The one that said, Don't.
Then I left because honestly I couldn't stand him for my much longer. Murderer and a cheat!
Not in a rush. Not in a dramatic swirl of silk and anger.
No, I moved like I had all the time in the world.
And Rafael Kane was waiting.
Or maybe he wasn't. Maybe he had just been standing there, perfectly at ease, sipping his drink while Camilla's voice droned on like white noise.
But the second I stepped closer, his attention shifted.
Not abruptly. Not obviously.
Just a slight turn of the head. A flicker of amusement in those dark, unreadable eyes.
I expected him to keep his distance.
After all, men like him powerful, cunning, used to being the one pursued rarely made the first move.
But then…
"Mrs. Devereaux"
Deep. Smooth. Amused.
I raised a brow, head tilting slightly.
Devereaux...Now that's intriguing... because the rest of the men and women I had met since my rebirth called me Whitemore... Rafael didn't.
"Mr. Kane."
A pause.
Slow. Stretched.
I should have walked away.
Should have brushed past him with nothing but a glance.
But I didn't.
Because I wanted to hear what kind of man he was.
Rafael studied me, his mouth curling just a little at the corners.
"You walked away rather quickly," he mused, sipping his whiskey.
I returned the same slow smirk. "Should I have waited for permission?"
He let out a quiet chuckle, deep and rich, like he was thoroughly entertained.
"I doubt you've ever waited for permission in your life," he murmured.
I pretended to think about it. "I used to."
His gaze flickered, just slightly, as if picking apart the meaning behind those two words.
And he did it again.
That fucking look.
That slow, deliberate stripping away.
I fought the urge to shift under the weight of it, but I felt it.
His eyes trailed down as if assessing.
Like he was cataloging every inch of me in his mind, filing away details for later.
My breath slowed.
Not out of nerves.
Out of awareness.
Because I had seen handsome men before.
But this?
This was something else.
Tall, so tall standing with the kind of posture that was straight. Broad shoulders. A body sculpted from discipline and quiet dominance, dressed in an expensive black suit that fit too fucking well.
But the real problem?
His face.
Sharp. Chiseled. Too fucking perfect for someone so dangerous. His skin warm, meadium bronze, kissed by African roots, flawless beneath the soft yacht lighting. Those naturally carved brows that framed his dark, dark sleeping-almond eyes so deceptively relaxed, like a predator conserving energy. His hair thick, dark, long fell around his face in the slightest damp waves, framing features so obscene that even the gods might pause.
And his mouth.
Sinful.
Pink. Full.
The kind of lips that made you think things.
And when he smirked?
The dimples.
God help me, the fucking dimples.
Just deep enough to be lethal, paired with the sharp edges of his jawline, his fangs peeking out just slightly when he smiled.
And that voice.
Low. Smooth. Like whiskey on ice.
I wanted to roll my eyes at myself.
Because fuck, was I really standing here like some desperate schoolgirl?
Pathetic.
I flicked my gaze back up, meeting his head-on, making sure my face gave nothing away.
Rafael exhaled softly, watching me like I was something he wanted to figure out.
"I must admit," he said casually, "I was almost certain we wouldn't have the pleasure of a formal introduction tonight."
I arched a brow. "Why's that?"
"Because women like you," he said, tilting his head just slightly, "don't make things easy."
I smiled. Too sweet. Too sharp.
"And men like you," I murmured, stepping closer, "don't need things to be easy."
His lashes lowered just a fraction.
Not in surprise.
In amusement.
I didn't break eye contact.
Didn't let him think, for even a second, that I was one of those women who would stumble over themselves just because a man like him looked their way.
But God help me, he was too fucking tempting.
Not that I'd ever admit it.
A soft, amused hum left my throat. "Well," I sighed, tilting my head, watching him. "Now that we're acquainted, I assume you're here to dazzle me with something clever."
He chuckled. Deep. Low. Smooth.
"Why would I try to dazzle a woman who already knows exactly how dazzling she is?"
I blinked.
And damn him. Damn him.
Because my lips twitched before I could stop them.
That bastard.
He was flirting with me.
But not obviously. Not cheaply. No, he was doing it in that careful, layered way. The kind of way that forced me to play along, or risk looking like I was reading too much into it.
Oh.
I liked that.
I lifted my glass, letting my fingers brush the rim. "Careful, Mr. Kane," I murmured. "Flattery gets men into trouble."
His dimples deepened. "Only the weak ones."
And fuck.
Deep down I felt like this won't wasn't going to be the last and honestly I don't intend for it to be.
Liam was watching.
I felt it.
Felt his stare burning into me from across the room, his posture stiff, his jaw clenched, his fake little smile frozen in place as he entertained his guests.
Camilla was watching too....Ha!!
But Rafael?
He didn't look away.
And neither did I.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, just the ghost of one, like he was amused by something only he understood. He tilted his head slightly, assessing me in a way that felt deliberate, indulgent, like he was peeling back layers without ever touching me.
I lifted my glass to my lips, never breaking eye contact. If he wanted to play this game, I was more than willing to indulge him.
"You enjoy these events, Mrs Devereaux?" Rafael finally asked, his voice smooth, rich, and coated with that quiet authority men like him carried so well.
I swirled the champagne in my glass, considering him. "They're tolerable when there's decent company."
His smirk deepened. "Then I'm honored."
I arched a brow. "Are you?"
He leaned in just enough that his cologne woodsy, dark, expensive teased my senses. "Very."
I exhaled a soft chuckle, shaking my head. "You flirt like a man who's used to getting exactly what he wants."
"I do." He didn't even pretend to deny it. "And you?"
"What about me?"
"What is it that you want?" His voice dropped lower, and damn it, I hated how it sent a shiver down my spine.
I traced the rim of my glass with a single finger, holding his gaze. "That's a dangerous question, Mr. Kane."
"And yet, you haven't answered it."
I let the silence stretch, watching the way his gaze flickered to my lips before returning to my eyes. His interest was obvious, unhurried, a man who had all the time in the world and no intention of wasting any of it.
"What is it you do, Valeria?" he asked, shifting gears so effortlessly it almost threw me off.
"I invest." I rolled the word over my tongue. "In businesses, projects...people."
"People?" He seemed genuinely intrigued.
I shrugged. "You learn a lot about someone when you put your money on them."
"And what would someone need to do to earn that kind of faith?"
"Be worth it." My lips curved. "Think you qualify?"
He exhaled a quiet laugh. "That depends. Are you interested in making investments tonight?"
I tilted my head. "Are you offering?"
His eyes gleamed. "You tell me."
The tension between us was like a wire pulled so tight it could snap with a whisper. The rest of the ballroom faded, the music just a dull hum beneath the sound of his voice, the way he watched me like he was deciding whether to take a bite or wait for me to do it first.
And then..
"How's married life treating you?"
The shift was sudden but not clumsy. Smooth. Calculated. He wasn't prying, not really. Just throwing the question out there to see if I'd catch it.
I should've expected it. Men like Rafael Kane didn't get involved without knowing what they were stepping into. But that didn't mean I had to like it.
I kept my expression unreadable, lifting my glass again. "That depends. Are you asking because you care, or are you just making conversation?"
"A bit of both." His gaze remained steady, unbothered. "I tend to be curious about women who hold my attention."
"And how often does that happen?"
"Not often."
I believed him.
But before I could decide if I wanted to entertain the subject further, I felt it.
Liam.
I didn't have to turn around to know he was watching. I felt the weight of his stare pressing against my spine, a heat that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with control. Possession.
A moment later, his presence manifested beside me.
"Mr. Kane." Liam's voice was smooth, practiced. He extended his hand. "Liam Whitemore."
Rafael barely glanced at the offered handshake. He looked at it for a beat, just long enough to make a point, before finally shifting his gaze to Liam's face. And he did not take it.
I smirked.
Liam, to his credit, barely faltered. He withdrew his hand, tucking it back into his pocket like he hadn't just been openly dismissed. "I hear you've been keeping busy these days. Kane Enterprises has been quite the talk lately."
Rafael's expression remained neutral. "Business tends to keep me occupied."
"And yet, you found the time to entertain my wife."
I chuckled, setting my glass down with a deliberate clink. "Don't be so dramatic, Liam. We were just talking."
His jaw ticked. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Do you have another term in mind?" I tilted my head. "Or are you just feeling insecure or feeling guilty?"
Liam's eyes darkened, his smile tightening. "We'll talk when we get home."
Honestly I wasn't interested in whatever that meant but I knew what that meant.
Rafael turned to me. He leaned in, lowering his voice just for me. "Enjoy your evening, Valeria."
My lips parted slightly, but I didn't have time to respond before he pulled away. His expression was unreadable again, the teasing flicker gone, his gaze shifting past me to the woman approaching. Vanessa.
Rafael didn't say another word. He just gave me one last look one that said far more than words would have before winking.
Then he turned, his demeanor slipping effortlessly back into something colder, something distant as he walked away with Vanessa.
Camilla, still seated at the bar, watched it all unfold behind the rim of her whiskey glass. She didn't say a word.
And Liam..
Liam was pissed.
But composed. Always composed.
For now.
"Let's go," he said quietly.