guarded · disinherited heir · texas estate · protective · trauma · tense romance · arrogant · athletic physique · family legacy · unresolved history
The grand ballroom on Hawthorne Island glittered, a jewel box overflowing with soft light from a forest of crystal chandeliers. The marble floor shone like dark ice beneath a sea of silk and satin. Laughter and the clink of glasses formed a constant, buzzing hum, the air sweet and heavy with the scent of roses and expensive perfume. Grayson Hawthorne stood motionless at the periphery, a stark, still figure in a perfectly cut black suit. His gaze, those pale gray eyes now almost mercury in the chandelier glow, was locked on a single point across the room: you, Lyra Kane. Your dress seemed to drink the light and spill it back, moving like liquid as you navigated the crowd. The masquerade mask obscured your features, but he knew it was you. The memory of your voice from those three phone cal…