Chapter 17
17
CLAIRE
T he night had taken on a surreal edge. The masquerade was winding down, but the energy outside Dominion Hall still crackled—cars idling at the curb, voices murmuring in the warm Charleston night, the faint clink of champagne glasses as the last of the city’s elite lingered on the steps.
I exhaled, smoothing my dress, still hyperaware of what Diego and I had just done. The file was no longer with me—I had stashed it in the library, tucked neatly between two old leather-bound books, right where Marcus would find it. Not a trace of it left on me. But my heart was still hammering, my nerves still on edge. Because even without the file, the night wasn’t over.
Diego stood beside me, lazily scrolling on his phone. “Remind me why we walked when you have a perfectly good rental?” He sighed dramatically. “Next time, I’m seducing a billionaire. Private drivers, champagne in the back seat—that’s the life we deserve.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh, trying to shake off the tension swirling in my stomach .
“Speaking of seduction,” I drawled, turning to Diego with a smirk. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you spent half the night making eyes at that very tall, very well-dressed man at the bar?”
Diego didn’t look up from his phone, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I scoffed. “Oh, please. You were practically purring.”
He sighed dramatically, slipping his phone into his pocket. “What can I say? Southern charm is real, and that man had it in spades. Plus, he smelled like cedarwood and expensive sin.”
I grinned. “So, did you get his number?”
Diego pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Claire, mija, do I look like the kind of man who asks for numbers?” He tossed his head back with a smirk. “No, no. I make them chase me.”
I rolled my eyes. “So, you’ll be seeing him again?”
“Depends,” he mused. “Is Marcus Dane the kind of billionaire who throws multiple fancy parties? Because I could suffer through another night of Charleston’s elite if it means another round of that man’s attention.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re impossible.”
“And yet, you love me,” he quipped, flashing me a knowing smile. “Now, let’s talk about your love life, because?—”
“Absolutely not,” I cut in, but Diego’s grin only widened.
Diego crossed his arms, giving me a slow, assessing look. “Oh, I think we absolutely should. Because remind me—what was our goal tonight?”
I groaned, tipping my head back toward the sky. “Diego?— ”
“Make Marcus Dane jealous,” he finished for me. “And?”
I sighed, fighting a smirk. “And what?”
Diego gestured dramatically. “And did it work? Because based on the way you disappeared with him for—what was it? An hour? Two?—I’m thinking the answer is yes.”
I pursed my lips, pretending to think. “I don’t know. He seemed pretty in control to me.”
Diego’s laughter was sharp, delighted. “Please. That man was vibrating every time he looked at you. I half expected him to throw me into the harbor just for existing.”
I rolled my eyes, but warmth curled in my stomach. “You’re exaggerating.”
“Am I?” Diego challenged, tilting his head. “Because from where I was standing, he did not appreciate seeing me on your arm. And he sure as hell didn’t appreciate the way you worked that room.”
I chewed my lip, remembering the way Marcus had looked at me—possessive, dark, like he was barely restraining himself from dragging me away the second he saw me laughing with those men.
“So, what’s the verdict?” Diego pressed, nudging my arm. “Mission accomplished?”
I let out a slow breath, my pulse still thrumming from everything that had happened tonight. “Yeah,” I admitted. “I think it worked.”
Diego grinned. “Excellent. Now, what’s our next move?”
Before I could answer, a familiar, commanding voice cut through the night.
“You’re not walking back alone. ”
My stomach flipped.
Diego muttered a quiet “Oh, this is going to be good” under his breath as we both turned.
Marcus stood at the top of the steps, mask discarded, his suit still pristine despite the chaos of the night. His gaze locked onto mine, unreadable but intense, the kind of look that made my breath catch.
I lifted a brow. “It’s not far.”
“I don’t care,” Marcus said smoothly, descending the steps like he owned the damn city. “You’re not walking.”
Diego made a quiet sound of delight, watching this unfold like it was the best show of his life.
I crossed my arms, tilting my head. “Is that an order?”
Marcus smirked, but there was no humor in it. “It’s a fact.”
Diego leaned in slightly, whispering, “I love this.”
I ignored him, holding Marcus’s gaze. “We’re capable of walking, Dane.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “And I’m capable of making sure you don’t have to.”
The protective edge in his voice sent something sharp through me—annoyance, intrigue, maybe something deeper I didn’t want to name.
Diego let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh, just say thank you and let the man drive us, Claire. I need the full billionaire experience.”
Marcus’s lips twitched, but his eyes stayed on me. Waiting.
I exhaled, finally relenting. “Fine.”
Marcus didn’t gloat. Didn’t smirk in victory. He just nodded once, turning toward the sleek luxury car idling nearby .
Diego gave me a delighted look as we followed. “He is obsessed with you.”
I didn’t answer. But I felt it. And I wasn’t sure what the hell I was going to do about it.
The valet line was still crowded, guests draping themselves against shiny cars, lingering in the warm Charleston night. The air smelled like jasmine and expensive perfume, laced with the lingering scent of cigars.
Diego was still whispering delighted commentary under his breath as Marcus led us toward his car, but I barely heard him. My nerves were still wired too tight, my skin still humming from everything that had happened tonight. From the stolen file, the tension in the library, the way Marcus had touched me like he was willing to break every rule to have me.
I was so caught up in my own head that I almost didn’t notice the man approaching from the side.
He was older, mid-fifties, with a weathered face and sharp, assessing eyes. He didn’t look like he belonged among the glittering partygoers—a little too rough, his suit a little too ill-fitted, the faint shadow of stubble making him look like he’d had a long night.
But he moved with purpose, and before I could react, he was right in front of me.
“Miss Dixon.” His voice was quiet, meant only for me.
Marcus moved instantly, stepping closer, his presence going sharp, predatory.
The man didn’t flinch. He just reached into his pocket—slow, deliberate—and held something out to me. A simple white envelope, creased at the edges, my name scrawled across the front in an unsteady hand .
I took it before I could think, my fingers brushing against the rough paper.
“From a friend,” the man said, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.
I blinked, pulse kicking up.
Marcus was watching me carefully. “What is it?”
I turned the envelope over in my hands. No return address. No markings. Just my name.
“I don’t know.”
I could feel Diego brimming with curiosity beside me, but Marcus’s gaze was unreadable, his jaw tight. He didn’t like this.
Hell, I didn’t like it either.
I swallowed, shoving the envelope into my clutch. “Let’s get out of here.”
The short drive back to the hotel was tense.
Diego, of course, didn’t seem to notice. He stretched out in the back seat, sipping from a bottle of still-chilled champagne Marcus had in the car, humming to himself like this was just another night.
I, on the other hand, was hyper-aware of Marcus in the driver’s seat. The way his hands gripped the wheel, the way his sleeves were still pushed up from earlier, exposing the strong lines of his forearms. The way he glanced at me every so often, sharp and assessing, like he was trying to read my mind.
I kept my clutch pressed against my lap, the weight of the envelope burning through the fabric.
By the time we pulled up to The Palmetto Rose, I was ready to escape.
Diego was already halfway out of the car before it had fully stopped, stretching with a groan. “Well, that was an evening.”
I slid out after him, smoothing my dress. “Understatement of the year.”
Diego yawned, shooting me a knowing look. “Are we having a debrief, or am I being abandoned for broody billionaire time?”
I rolled my eyes. “Go to bed, Diego.”
He grinned, giving me an exaggerated kiss on the cheek before sauntering toward the elevator. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he called over his shoulder.
Marcus was still watching me from where he leaned against the car.
I crossed my arms once more. “You don’t have to stand there like my personal security detail.”
His gaze darkened. “Someone handed you an unmarked envelope outside Dominion Hall, Claire. Forgive me for not liking that.”
I exhaled, pressing a hand to my temple. “I’m fine.”
Marcus didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push.
I turned and headed inside, the cool air of the lobby washing over me. The late hour had thinned the crowd—just a few lingering guests near the bar, the receptionist giving me a polite nod as I stepped into the elevator.
It wasn’t until I reached my suite that I knew something was wrong.
The moment I stepped inside, every instinct went on high alert.
Nothing was out of place. No broken locks, no forced entry. But I knew.
The air felt different.
Slightly off.
Like someone had been here .
A chill crawled up my spine as I slowly stepped inside, my heels muffled against the plush carpet.
I scanned the room, my heart pounding. The bed was still neatly made. My suitcase still sat where I left it. My laptop was still on the desk.
But the glass on the nightstand—empty when I left—was half-full now.
My breath caught.
Someone had been in here.
And they wanted me to know it.
My stomach twisted, panic pressing against my ribs.
I turned and bolted from the room, my pulse hammering. I barely made it into the hall before I crashed into something solid.
No—someone.
Marcus.
His hands caught me instantly, gripping my arms, his body a wall of heat and tension. “Claire?—”
“There was someone in my room.” The words tumbled out, breathless, urgent. “They were inside?—”
Marcus’s face went sharp, all hard lines and steel. He didn’t ask questions. Didn’t hesitate.
He moved.
Fast.
He pushed me behind him, stepping into my suite, scanning every inch with the practiced efficiency of a man trained for war.
I stood in the doorway, pulse thrumming in my ears, my hands shaking slightly at my sides.
Marcus was silent as he checked the room, checked the locks, checked every damn corner.
Then he turned to me, his expression unreadable.
His voice was low, lethal. “Pack your things.”
I swallowed. “Marcus?— ”
“You’re not staying here.” His tone left no room for argument.
I stared at him, my heart still pounding. “Where am I staying, then?”
Marcus didn’t blink.
“With me.”