Chapter 25
ANNIE
The ring caught the light again. I stared down at the monstrosity weighing down my finger—a diamond so large it looked like costume jewelry, surrounded by a halo of smaller stones that made the whole thing even more ostentatious.
Look natural. Stop frowning. Smile like you mean it.
“And here she is, my beautiful fiancée!” Valor’s arm snaked around my waist, pulling me against his side. “Isn’t she radiant tonight?”
The elderly donor couple beamed at us, the woman reaching for my hand to examine the ring. “Oh my, what a stunning piece!”
I forced my lips into what I hoped resembled happiness rather than a grimace. “It’s certainly eye-catching.”
Good job, Annie. That almost sounded sincere.
The Prism Pavilion sparkled around us, its glass dome shifting through shades of blue and gold.
Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the art displays or the bioluminescent garden installations.
Instead, all I could see was another backdrop for this charade, another place where I was betraying Cipher, and myself, with every fake smile.
Memorial Hospital’s Annual Alliance Charity Gala—where Heroes and the wealthy collide in a perfect storm of performative generosity and photo ops.
The Alliance PR team had been promoting this for weeks as the “philanthropic event of the season.” Translation: smile until your face hurts while rich people decide if sick children deserve their pocket change.
At least the champagne was decent.
Across the room, Havoc loomed like a silver-haired thundercloud among the evening wear. He caught my eye and raised his glass in silent solidarity. The only reason he’d dragged himself here was because of me.
He’d been murderous when I’d returned to the Tower. He’d promised he would take care of the engagement in the morning, but I wasn’t going to hold my breath that the Aegis would budge on their ruling.
A photographer materialized, instructing us to pose by the display of donation statistics. Valor’s hand slid lower on my waist.
“The happy couple!” the photographer chirped. “Perhaps a kiss for the front page?”
“Those moments are for our private time,” I demurred.
Valor’s smile tightened microscopically.
The camera flashed. Once. Twice. Three times.
Each flash felt like another nail in the coffin of whatever Cipher and I had rebuilt.
“Fucking relax,” Valor hissed in my ear while maintaining his smile.
We’d been fighting since I arrived at his penthouse for pre-event photos. My dress was “too severe.” My hair was “too plain.” My shoes were “too sensible.” The ring, which neither of us had selected, was “too small” for someone of his stature.
“You could at least pretend to be happy,” Valor said between clenched teeth as we moved toward the donor terrace. “You look like you’re attending a funeral.”
“I’m doing my job,” I whispered back. “You got what you wanted. The announcement. The ring. The photo spread. What more do you need?”
“Enthusiasm wouldn’t kill you.”
I bit back the retort that formed on my tongue. Fighting wouldn’t help. Nothing would help.
Valor steered me through the crowd. I glanced at the glass dome, momentarily escaping into the view beyond.
The fog had rolled in thick and heavy, shrouding the bay in a ghostly blanket. City lights struggled to penetrate the haze, appearing as nothing more than diffuse glowing smudges in the distance. Even the Phoenix Bridge had disappeared, its iconic span swallowed whole by the mist.
We could be anywhere right now. We could be nowhere.
Despite the hundreds of people packed into the Pavilion, the laughter, the clinking glasses, an eerie sense of isolation crept over me. The fog had cut us off from the rest of the world, suspended us in this bubble of pretentiousness and performance.
Fitting, really. My entire life had become a performance.
The glass above shifted to a deep midnight blue, casting everyone in cool light. Beyond it, nothing but impenetrable gray. No stars. No city. No escape.
A man in a tuxedo approached, his smile as polished as his Italian leather shoes. A hospital board pin gleamed on his lapel like the tiny badge of authority it was.
“Valor!” he called, extending his hand. “Charles Winthrop, Memorial Hospital Board.”
Valor’s smile cranked up several watts. “Charles! How’s that new pediatric wing coming along?”
I stood awkwardly as they shook hands. Valor hadn’t bothered to introduce me, his supposed fiancée, because I was invisible until I was needed for a photo op.
“We’re on schedule, thank you for asking.” Charles finally acknowledged my existence with a curious glance. “And this must be the lucky lady I’ve read about.”
Valor pulled me closer, his fingers digging deeper. “My fiancée, Annie Bishop. Havoc’s Keeper.”
“Ah! Keeping two powerful men in line. Impressive.” Charles winked, and something sour crawled up my throat.
I smiled mechanically while my brain screamed.
“She’s quite the catch,” Valor said, patting my hip like I was a prized show horse.
That’s all I was now, a prop for Valor’s ratings. Not a Keeper with years of training. Not someone who’d nearly died protecting the Alliance. Just an accessory to boost a narcissist’s public image.
The Alliance had reduced my job to a joke.
A ripple moved through the crowd, that subtle shift when someone magnetic enters a room. I felt him before I saw him, like static electricity raising the hairs on my arms.
Then the sea of people parted, and there he was.
Cipher.
My breath caught in my throat. It shouldn’t still happen, that physical jolt whenever I saw him without his mask on, when he was playing Thomas Smith. But it did. Every. Single. Time.
He moved through the crowd, his tuxedo fitting him like a second skin. The jacket stretched across his broad shoulders. His dark hair was styled in that deliberately tousled way that made my fingers itch to run through it.
God, he was beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you forget how to breathe.
A woman nearby actually stopped mid-sentence, her champagne flute frozen halfway to her lips as Cipher passed. I couldn’t blame her. The sharp line of his jaw, the fullness of his mouth that I knew could curve into the most devastating smile or whisper the filthiest promises.
His eyes scanned the room until they locked with mine. Even from across the room, I could feel the heat in that gaze, the same heat that had burned against my skin last night, that had made me arch and beg.
Valor was still talking beside me, his arm a dead weight around my waist, but all I could see was Cipher. All I could feel was the invisible tether between us, pulling taut.
Valor’s grip on my waist tightened when he finally noticed that every head had turned from watching him to watch the new addition stalking across the space.
My panic rose. Cipher despised playing Thomas Smith and avoided his civilian identity whenever he could. Yet, he had willingly put on a tuxedo and stepped into a crowded ballroom and now his trajectory toward us was unmistakable.
No, no, no. Please don’t make a scene. Please.
The Syndicate’s warning echoed in my head. If Cipher interfered with this engagement charade, everything he’d worked for would be gone.
My fingers twisted the gaudy ring, wishing I could take it off so he didn’t have to see it on me. Breathe, I reminded myself. Just breathe.
Cipher reached us, his expression perfectly controlled as he extended his hand to Charles. “Mr. Winthrop, good to see you again.” His eyes never left mine, even as he shook the man’s hand.
“Mr. Smith!” Charles boomed with excitement. “I was just telling Valor about the pediatric wing. Your contribution to the research department has been nothing short of revolutionary.”
The board member transformed smoothly into a fawning sycophant. “Valor, have you met Thomas Smith? Owner of Smith Industries and our largest private donor. Practically owns the hospital at this point!”
Valor’s grip on my waist tightened. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“And who is this lovely woman?” Cipher asked, his Scottish accent rolling through the words like thunder.
Charles blinked, as if just remembering I existed. “Oh, that’s Valor’s fiancée.”
“Do you not have a name?” he asked softly.
“Annie,” I supplied, realizing that Charles had already forgotten it from the blank look on his face.
Cipher’s eyes darkened. “Annie Bishop, is it not? Havoc’s Keeper. Your reputation precedes you.” He took my free hand, his thumb brushing over the gaudy engagement ring before lifting my fingers to his lips. “A pleasure to meet the woman who keeps the most powerful Super in line.”
Heat bloomed where his lips touched my skin.
“You’re too kind, Mr. Smith,” I managed.
“Thomas, please.” His smile was all predator. “I’ve always admired those who work behind the scenes. The ones who make everything possible while others take the spotlight.”
Valor shifted. “Annie’s quite happy with her supporting role.”
“Is she now?” Cipher’s accent thickened.
“Mr. Smith invests in many worthy causes,” Charles interjected, oblivious to the undercurrents and clearly wanting to kiss Thomas Smith’s ass.
“I’m very selective about where I put my resources,” Cipher said. “I only commit to things I truly want.” In his mouth, even the word “commit” sounded like a promise whispered against bare skin in the dark.
“Charles, I’ve been reviewing the blueprints for the new pediatric surgical theater.” His Scottish burr dropped an octave. “I want to fully fund it. Consider it a celebratory gift in honor of Chroma Bay’s newest, happiest couple.”
Charles looked dumbstruck. “Mr. Smith that is—”
“There is a single condition,” Cipher cut him off.
“Anything,” Charles said quickly without realizing Cipher was someone you should never give a blank check to. “Anything at all.”
Cipher finally broke eye contact with me, shifting his cold, silver gaze to Valor. “I want the first dance of the evening with the bride-to-be.”