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My stomach dips.

I don’t have to ask who.

“You mean the alpha-shaped war crime at nine o’clock?”

Lexi grins. “The Devil himself.”

We both glance over.

Lucian Vale stands exactly where I left him: in a halo of power suits and champagne flutes, still speaking with the OMB official.

But now, they’re not alone. Three more have joined them.

Two men in navy suits with state pins on their lapels, and a sharp-eyed woman in a dress that definitely says senior advisor to someone who signs laws into effect.

Lexi follows my gaze, lifting her brows. “Impressive, right?”“What are they?” I ask, too casually. “Politicians?”

She hums. “Mostly. City council, state infrastructure, education board - I think one of them’s attached to the Governor’s re-election team.” She sips. “Lucian Vale doesn’t breathe unless it benefits five of his companies and two of his legacy contacts.”

I force a smile. “Subtle.”

“He’s practically royalty,” she adds, watching him with a kind of amused admiration. “Old money. Old rules. Gets invited to every boardroom and black-tie gala in a hundred-mile radius. And the man knowseveryone.”

“And... the OMB guy?” I ask, letting the words slip like I don’t care.

She shrugs. “No idea. But judging by the fact he didn’t blink when Lucian walked up to him, I’d say they’ve at least played golf together. Or done blood magic. Whatever powerful men do.”

I snort. “Comforting.”

Lexi turns back to me, her grin sly. “Why so curious?”

“I’m not.”

“Oh no,” she drawls, “don’t do that thing where you lie with your eyebrows. I know you, Rhea. You’ve got a little glint.”

“It’s not a glint. It’scaution.”I lift my camera. “He’s just… loud.”

“Loud and rich and brooding,” she sing-songs, clearly delighted. “Tell me you wouldn’t risk a felony for one night with that jawline.”

“I’d rather risk tetanus.”

“You can have both, knowing him.”

I laugh, despite myself.

“Look at them all,” she says as her eyes scan over the room. “Every beta here is practicallyvibrating on sight.You’d think he was giving out orgasms with the dessert trays.”

“He probably could. Monetize it, too.”

“Oh, absolutely. Alpha NFTs or some shit," she scoffs. Then, she nudges me. “Take good photos of him, will you? The best ones could probably buy me a beach house.”

I raise my camera. “Easy enough.I’d bet good money that the man’s never taken a bad photo in his life.”

“I’d payrealmoney to know if the rumors are true.”

I try not to look too interested. “What rumors?”

She arches a brow. “About what he’s like in bed.”

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