The room smelled like power—old whiskey, fresh-cut florals, and leather deals sealed behind closed doors.

Aria adjusted the strap of her black dress and scanned the gala. Everyone who mattered in the city was there. CEOs. Politicians. Fortune magazine cover stars.

And Marcus Hale.

She spotted him at the bar, surrounded by half-fake smiles and full glasses of bourbon. He looked exactly the same—perfectly styled, perfectly smug. The kind of man who’d talk to you like you were a puzzle he already solved.

She walked straight up to him.

“Aria Vale,” he said, smiling like he’d just won something. “Now there’s a name I didn’t expect to hear again—let alone see on Blackwood’s arm.”

She didn’t bother with small talk. “Stay away from my company.”

He tilted his glass toward her. “You think this is about Vale Interiors?”

“Isn’t it?”

He took a slow sip. “I made you an offer once. You rejected it. That’s fine. But now you’re playing in my world again. Under his protection.”

“Dominic isn’t protecting me,” she said coolly. “We’re business partners.”

“Sure,” he said. “Just like sharks and lifeboats.”

Aria felt the sting in his tone. He wasn’t bluffing. He wanted something—and not just professionally.

“You know what I think?” Marcus said, leaning in, voice dropping. “I think Dominic let you go once. And now he regrets it. But regrets don’t rebuild trust. They just dress it up in a ring and call it a second chance.”

She met his gaze, sharp and unflinching. “If you think I’m weak because I came back, you don’t know a damn thing about me.”

“I know one thing,” he said. “You’re on borrowed time. The minute he’s done using your name to shield himself? You’re back where you started.”

She took a step closer. “Then I guess I’ll just have to become too powerful to drop.”

Behind her, she heard the click of polished shoes.

Dominic.

He appeared at her side like a shadow—smooth, silent, lethal.

“Marcus,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I see you’ve met my wife.”

Aria didn’t flinch.

Not when Dominic placed a hand on her waist. Not when Marcus raised his glass with mock applause.

“To second chances,” Marcus said. “They never last. But they sure are fun to watch.”