Chapter 10: Velvet Lies and Broken Glass

The ballroom glittered with crystal chandeliers and soft jazz, but Mia Collins couldn't hear a single note.

Not after that moment on the balcony.

Liam's words still clung to her like silk and smoke.

"Then let's be scared together."

How dare he sound sincere? How dare he look at her like she was the only one in the world?

She took a slow breath, steadying herself. The air inside the gala was warm, perfumed with expensive cologne and champagne. Her heels clicked against marble as she crossed the room, smile fixed in place.

Everyone wanted a piece of her tonight. The photographers. The CEOs. The polished vultures in designer suits.

But all she could feel was his presence behind her.

Watching.

Wanting.

She hated that part of her still wanted to turn around and fall into his arms.

So, instead, she walked right into the arms of someone else.

"Mia," a smooth voice purred behind her. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Her stomach twisted.

She turned, and there he was.

Ethan Hart.

Of all nights.

The devil wore a velvet tux, a smirk, and a glass of top-shelf regret. His jaw was just as sharp, his hair still styled to calculated perfection. But Mia didn't see the charm tonight.

She saw the man who taught her that love could be used like currency.

"Ethan," she said, cool as ice. "Still lurking around charity events to impress your father's board?"

He chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit."

"You'd be surprised."

His eyes swept over her in that entitled way she used to confuse with affection. "I heard about you and Bennett. Quite the buzz."

Mia raised her glass to her lips. "Funny. I don't recall asking for your opinion."

"You never had to," he said, stepping closer. "You always had a way of drawing attention. But you and Liam? I give it another month. Maybe two."

She tilted her head, gaze narrowing. "Still bitter I walked away before you could destroy me?"

His expression flickered—just for a second.

"I never meant to hurt you."

"You didn't. You taught me."

"Teach you what?"

She smiled. But it didn't reach her eyes.

"That I'd rather burn alone than beg a liar for warmth."

He laughed again, but this time it was tight, forced. "You know, Mia, some people still say you were just a distraction. That I never really—"

"Don't," she interrupted, her voice velvet and venom. "Don't pretend I was anything less than the girl you couldn't keep, even when I was stupid enough to love you."

And with that, she turned, dress swirling like storm clouds behind her.

---

She found the nearest exit and stepped into a quieter corridor.

Her breath came in shallow pulls.

God. Why tonight?

The memory clawed its way back before she could stop it.

She was twenty.

Naive.

In love.

Back then, she thought Ethan Hart was her world. His voice, his laugh, the way he looked at her like she was a secret only he knew. They met during an Ivy League business competition, him with his swagger and promises, her with ambition and spark.

He made her feel seen.

Then he made her feel invisible.

She remembered that night vividly.

His penthouse suite. The rooftop view. The chilled wine. The door she opened too early.

Another woman—elegant, older, kissing his neck like she belonged there.

And Ethan, caught red-handed, saying nothing at first. Just blinking. Smiling faintly.

"She's the one I have to marry," he'd said. "But you—you're the thrill, Mia."

And just like that, she learned that love could be a transaction.

So she never gave her heart away again.

Not until Liam.

Not until now.

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it.

She wiped it away. Furious.

"Are you okay?"

Her breath caught.

Liam.

He stood a few feet behind her in the dim hallway. No photographers. No audience. Just the echo of chandeliers and the weight of unspoken things.

Mia straightened. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you know me."

Liam stepped forward. "But I want to."

She laughed bitterly. "That's the problem. Everyone wants to. No one stays when it gets hard."

"I'm not them."

"No?" She looked at him. "Because right now, all I see is another rich man who thinks he can fix things with words."

Liam's jaw tensed. "I'm not here to fix you, Mia. I'm here because I see you. And I'm still standing here."

"Why?"

"Because you let your guard down for half a second on that balcony, and it told me everything."

He took another step. She didn't move.

"I saw the fire in you. I saw the fear. And I saw the part of you that's still trying to believe someone could love you and not use it as a weapon."

She turned away. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do," he said, softer now. "Because I've been just like you. Chasing power to avoid pain."

She looked over her shoulder, expression unreadable. "What if I told you I'm not ready?"

"I'd wait."

"And if I never am?"

"I'll still wait."

Mia's throat tightened.

Damn him.

Damn his patience. His eyes. His truth.w1

Before she could say anything else, a voice called from the ballroom. "Mr. Bennett, you're needed for the photo line!"

He didn't move.

Mia looked up at him, tears gone, armor back in place.

"Go," she said.

He nodded once. "This isn't over."

"No," she whispered once he was gone. "It's only just beginning."