Page 2 of Only Ever Mine

Her lips twitched, and I got the sense she was fighting back a smile.

“Well, in that case, thank you. I’ll take that as high praise,” she replied.

“It is.”

The way her eyes met mine, unflinching and full of challenge, sent a jolt through me.

Most people looked at me with some combination of awe, envy, or barely disguised greed. This woman didn’t.

She looked at me like I was just a man standing in her way, and for some reason, that only made me want her more.

“Scarlett Lane,” she said, extending her hand.

“Christian Valen.”

Her hand was small but firm in mine, her grip self-assured. I held on a beat longer than necessary, just to feel the heat of her skin against mine.

“Valen, huh?” she said, pulling her hand back. “I think I’ve heard of you.”

“Good things, I hope,” I told her with a smile.

“Let’s just say the Valen name tends to come up in certain circles.”

“And what do you think of what you’ve heard?” I asked.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I try not to judge people based on rumors.”

I laughed softly, intrigued by her boldness. Most people in her position—working at an event for people like me—wouldn’t dare speak so candidly.

But Scarlett didn’t seem to care about the dynamics of wealth or status.

“So, Scarlett,” I said, leaning in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel intimate, “how does someone as talented as you end up catering an event like this?”

She crossed her arms, and the movement pulled my attention to the curve of her waist, the subtle way the tailored jacket hugged her figure.

“I own a restaurant,” she said simply. “Amélie. Have you heard of it?”

I nodded. “I’ve been there. The lamb shank? One of the best I’ve ever had.”

Her expression softened, her eyes warming slightly. “Good to know you have taste.”

“I like to think so.” My gaze dropped briefly to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. If she noticed, she didn’t show it.

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head. “What’s your excuse for being here?”

“Obligation,” I admitted. “My family’s heavily involved in this charity.”

“And you’re not?” Scarlett asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

She smiled faintly, shaking her head. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Fair enough.” I chuckled, taking a sip of the champagne I’d barely touched. “Let’s just say I prefer being behind the scenes.”

“Funny,” she said. “You don’t strike me as someone who stays in the background.”

“Why’s that?”

---