Chapter 320 Ballroom Glimmers
<b>Night </b><b>had </b>already folded itself over Doria when the three stepped into the grand ballroom<b>, </b><b>its </b><b>chandeliers </b>humming with crystal fire. Quinn scanned the sea of faces, hunting for Leander. <b>Han </b>and <b>Julius </b><b>nked </b>her like impably dressed sentries, every polished line of their suits broadcasting silent authority.
Their presence acted like a spark in dry grass. Conversations faltered, necks craned, curiosity surged.
Women in silk gowns drifted over, smilescquered with intent, each hoping to secure even a fleeting exchange.
Polite indifference did little good. The numbers only grew.
Local power brokers soon joined the crush–steel–haired magnates, fresh–minted heirs, the sort who measured value in favors traded.
Many recognized Julius; Whitethorn Group’s factories and docks dotted Doria’s coast, after all.
To Quinn’s surprise, several greeted Han as well,uding Weston’sw firm and the <b>cross</b>–border verdicts he had wrestled from reluctant courts. All that sudden attention formed an idental barricade<b>, </b>slowing Quinn’s search to a crawl.
Quinn drew a tight breath. “Let’s split up–we’ll cover more ground.”
“Hold on–are you sure?” Han asked, worry knitting his brow.
Quinn shook her head. “No more caution,” she said, taking a step away. Julius shot out a hand and caught her wrist, movement swift as a hawk. “I’ll find you in a minute,” he murmured, voice meant for her alone.
“All right,” she answered, the faintest smile flickering before she slipped free and vanished into the crowd.
A tycoon leaned toward Julius. “It’s rare, Mr. Whitethorn, to see you escorting ady. Forgive the curiosity -who is she to you?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Julius said without a hint of hesitation.
Han’s jaw tightened, disapproval shing before he masked it beneath a neutral facade.
The surrounding moguls exchanged startled nces<b>. </b>
“Seems the youngdy is truly fortunate,” one whispered, half–awed, half–envious.
Julius kept his gaze fixed on Quinn’s retreating silhouette. “No–if anyone’s fortunate, it’s me,” he said softly.
He had once seized that radiant beam of light and convinced it to linger at his side. Now, terrified of losing it, he fought with every breath to keep that brilliance from slipping back into darkness.
Han pulled Julius into a shadowed alcove, voice low and edged. “She ended things with you. Stop parading her as your girlfriend.”
“We’re only apart for a while,” Julius replied, unwavering. “She’lle back to me.”
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Chapter <b>320 </b><b>Ballroom </b><b>Glimmers </b>
<b>Han’s </b>stare turned ice–cold. <b>“</b><b>If </b><b>you </b>try to force her, I don’t care if the Whitethorn <b>family </b><b>rule</b>; jexburgii I’ll tear your <b>dynasty </b>apart. I keep my promises.”
Julius narrowed his eyes. “You really believe you can do that?”
“Try me.” Han shot back, challenge zing.
Tension crackled between them–one man wrapped in frost, the other smoldering with anger<b>, </b>the ballroom’s glitter now a brittle backdrop to their silent duel.
Quinn wove through the glittering rows of crystalden tables, her heels clicking a restless tattoo <b>against </b>the marble floor as her eyes swept every corner of the ballroom, hunting for a face that haunted her waking hours.
<i>Would </i><i>Leander </i><i>Fane </i><i>really </i><ie tonight</i>, <i>just </i><i>as </i><i>Julius </i><i>had </i><i>promised</i><i>? </i><i>I </i><i>have </i><i>scoured </i><i>the </i>room, <b><i>yet </i></b><i>he </i><b><i>remains </i></b>a ghost. <i>If </i><i>I </i><i>miss </i>him <i>now</i>, <i>where </i><i>else </i><i>can </i>I <i>possibly </i><i>look</i>? <i>He </i><i>isn’t </i><i>even </i><i>a </i><i>local</i><i>–</i><b><i>he’s </i></b><i>from </i><i>Celosia</i>–<i>and </i>for <i>all </i>I know, he <b><i>could </i></b><i>fly </i><i>home </i><i>tomorrow </i><i>and </i><i>vanish </i><i>forever. </i>
Just then, her stride broke, a sudden jolt as though the air itself had wrapped invisible hands around her ankles<b>. </b>
In that heartbeat, a familiar silhouette flooded her vision–unbidden, impossible, unbearably near. <i>Rowan</i>? <i>Leander</i><i>? </i><i>Or </i><i>have </i><i>I </i><i>been </i><i>chasing </i><i>a </i><i>single </i><i>man </i><i>wearing </i><i>two </i><i>names</i><i>? </i>
Before her mind could catch up, her body lunged forward, cutting across thecquered floor in a sprint born of pure instinct.
<i>Not </i><i>again</i><i>–</i>not <i>this </i><i>time</i><i>! </i>I <i>can’t </i><i>let </i><i>Rowan </i>slip <i>through </i><i>my </i><i>fingers </i><i>once </i><i>more</i>. <i>If </i><i>I </i><i>fail </i><i>to </i><i>hold </i><i>on </i><i>now</i>, <i>he’ll </i><i>dissolve </i><i>into </i><i>the </i><i>crowd</i><i>, </i><i>and </i>I <i>may </i><i>never </i><i>see </i><i>him again</i>.
When awareness finally mmed back, Quinn found her fingers locked around the man’s wrist while he stared down at her, wide–eyed, as though the music had cut mid–note.
<b>2/2 </b>