Page 85 of Velvet Betrayal
Just like that, my life had a new axis. Invisible, absolute.
I set the test down. Looked up at myself in the mirror. Hair a mess. Mouth tight. Shadowed eyes. Not scared. Not brave, either.
And—God help me—part of me felt... steady. Like something in the chaos had clicked into place. Like my body knew something I didn’t want it to know: that no matter how much I swore I hated him, some part of me still wanted to carry him forward. Still craved the gravity of him, even when it ruined everything else.
And then I started to laugh. Quiet at first. Then harder.
Not joy. Not hysteria.
Just the sound of Kieran Callahan completely changing my life…again.
Ruby
Copley Square Plaza was a blur of cameras, clapping, and the dull roar of city heat off the pavement. I kept my shoulders square, hands steady, face neutral. The press loved a woman who looked grateful. They hated a woman who looked sure.
The flags behind the podium snapped in the breeze. Every step toward the mic felt rehearsed, heavy. I'd practiced this speech a hundred times, but now my mouth felt too dry to shape the words.
The mayor worked the edge of the crowd like it was still election night—shaking hands, laughing too loud, clinging to relevance. Julian stood just behind the press pit, all polish and presence, like this was his victory too. It wasn’t.
Off to the right, Natalia caught my eye and waved. Her boyfriend trailed behind her, already half-checked out, swirling his drink like he wished it were something stronger.
I didn’t belong here. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.
But I smiled. I mingled. I played my part.
Alek slid up to the bar beside me, sharp in a charcoal suit with the top button undone and his tie loose. Hair immaculate,like always. He looked relaxed, confident—like he already knew how the night would go.
“I just talked to the Herald,” he said, voice pitched low. “Well, Erica. She’s here. Shiny press pass and all. She’s on the hunt.”
“Hopefully not for me,” I said, draining the last of my champagne. It tasted like chemicals and old money.
“It’s always about you,” he replied, dry as gin. “The press conference is already making the rounds. You’re trending.”
“Good,” I said. “Let them talk.”
Alek’s hand brushed my elbow, steadying. “Don’t get reckless now, Ruby.”
“I’m not reckless,” I said, smiling. “I’m just done hiding.”
He started to answer, but stopped. I followed his gaze—Julian, watching me from across the room.
The kind of stare that made your skin itch.
He’d seemed okay with everything, I’d been sure of it when I spoke to him at his house…but now, he felt off. He caught me looking and something changed, his face going a little less…
I don’t know.
A little less angry, maybe?
Then Erica Fields materialized at my side, notepad out. “Woman of the hour,” she said, voice bright. “You ready to become Boston’s first Latina District Attorney?”
“I’m just here to get sworn in,” I replied, shaking her hand. “It’s about the job–not vanity.”
Alek drifted back, giving us space to spar. Over his shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Kieran—no, Kieran’s shadow—by the service door, shoulders squared, eyes never missing a thing.
Of course he was watching. There was something almost comforting about it.
She ran through the usual warm-up: budget projections, overtime audits, whether I thought Fitzsimmons was eyeinganother run for mayor. I gave her the polished lines—tight, focused, just weary enough to sound sincere.
