Page 42 of The Valentine Agenda

"I—" He caught another glimpse of Hannah. A group of women in designer dresses swept past her table, their laughter sharp and exclusive. She straightened her shoulders—a subtle,proud gesture. One that meant she was hurting but wouldn't show it.

Just like Valentine's Day.

The thought hit him like a physical blow.

"Excuse me," he said abruptly, cutting off whoever had been speaking. "I need to—"

But when he turned back toward her, she was no longer there.

His heart stopped.

"Park? About those projections..."

He'd lost her.

Again.

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James pushed through the crowd, his perfectly tailored suit feeling like a straightjacket. The room suddenly felt too large, too loud, too full of people who didn't matter. "Has anyone seen—"

But of course they hadn't seen her. That was the whole problem, wasn't it? His world had looked right through her. Just like he used to.

"James!" Marcus called out. "About that proposal—"

"Not now." He didn't even look back, scanning the edges of the room where she might have retreated. But he knew. The empty champagne glass on their table. The chair pushed in with careful precision.

She was gone.

He burst into the lobby, startling a group of executives. "Did you see—" But how could he even describe her to these people?A beautiful woman in a beautiful dress. The kind of dress you probably wouldn't notice. The kind of woman I used to not notice.

The night air hit him like a slap when he pushed through the doors. The street was empty except for arriving guests and waiting cars. No sign of her.

He called her, waiting for her to pick up but instead it just rang and rang. What was he even planning to say to her?

Sorry I did exactly what I did at Nero's? Sorry I proved you right about me?

He'd done it again.

The realization made him physically ill. All his promises to be different, to see her, to prove he'd changed—they meant nothing. Because when it mattered, when it really mattered, he'd chosen his world over her.

Just like before.

"Mr. Park?" The doorman's voice cut through his spiral. "Your car is ready."

James looked at the waiting town car, at the glittering event behind him, at all the trappings of success he'd spent his life pursuing.

It all felt hollow now.

Because somewhere in the city, Hannah Miller was making her way home alone.

Again.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Hannah

"You look beautiful," James had said when he picked her up, and Hannah had believed him. Not because of her dress but because of how he'd looked at her. Like she was something precious. Something real.

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