Something else is brewing.
And then I spot the anomaly near the far wall, half-shielded by a decorative column. A man stands with a drink in one hand and a phone in the other. He's not mingling or chatting. He's watching.
More specifically, he's watching Ava.
A sharp jolt runs through me, but I force my expression to remain neutral, my grip on Ava's waist tightening just enough to anchor myself. She doesn't notice—too caught up in conversation with some socialite whose name isn't worth the space in my memory, laughing lightly at some harmless bit of gossip.
Completely unaware that across the room, some asshole is snapping photos of her—and for what?
I can feel the anger start to simmer. There's no way I'm hanging back and letting this happen.
I press a little closer to Ava, leaning in like I'm whispering something flirtatious in her ear. "Stay here."
She barely gets a chance to react before I peel away from her, my path direct. I reach him in four measured strides.
"Delete the photos." I keep my voice civil.
The guy barely glances up from his drink. "Excuse me?"
I step closer, close enough that he has to tilt his chin to meet my gaze. His whole demeanor screams hired help.
"I said," I repeat slowly, "delete the photos."
His lips twitch, like he's amused. "And if I don't?"
I smile. It's not friendly. "Then I take your phone, break it in half, and throw you out of this party myself."
The guy exhales, giving me a look like he's deciding whether this is worth the fight. Then, slowly, he raises his hands, still gripping his phone. "Relax, Carter. I'm just doing my job."
"Your job," I echo, my voice flat.
He nods once. "I'm a private investigator. Hired to gather a little intel."
God damn it. "By who?"
But I already know.
The PI tilts his head, his smirk widening like he's enjoying himself. "Come on. You're a smart guy."
"Of course." A slow, seething fury unfurls in my chest, wrapping around my ribs like a vise.
Vanessa Chase is a parasite. The kind that latches on, feeds, and refuses to let go until she's drained every last ounce of control from the situation. And right now? She's feeding off the chaos she's created.
I knew tonight was a risk. I knew setting this trap meant walking a fine line between calculated strategy and outright disaster. What I didn't expect was to walk directly into her game instead of forcing our mystery texter into mine.
And yet, here we are.
The PI is still standing in front of me, and now, he's beginning to shift uncomfortably under my glare, his camera hanging from a strap around his neck. He's older—mid-fifties, maybe—dressed in the kind of forgettable black suit that's meant to blend in, the kind that practically screamsI'm here on business.
"What do you have on Ava?"
"I told you," he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "I'm just here to observe."
I don't move, don't even blink. "Bullshit."
He sighs, clearly realizing I'm not going anywhere. "Look, Carter, I don't care about you. I don't care about your little romance. I was paid to watch her." He nods toward Ava across the room, his voice dropping just enough to make my blood turn to ice. "Just her."
It's instinct, the way my fist clenches. The way my entire body coils, ready to move. Because if Vanessa thinks she can hire someone to dig into Ava, to collect leverage like she's another asset in a business deal, she's about to learn exactly how wrong she is.