I fished around in my pocket and pulled out the amethyst crystal. The deep purple stone caught the light, sending fractured violet beams across my hand. Philip Thornton was standing near the terrace entrance, deep in


    conversation with Walter Morrison. Perfect timing.


    “President Thornton,” I said, approaching them. “I brought you something.”


    <b>58 </b>


    I held out the amethyst crystal. “For your heart condition. It’s not much, but it helps reduce stress and anxiety when ced near your bed. Lower stress levels, better for your heart rhythm.”


    Philip’s eyes widened as he examined the crystal. His fingers traced the edges reverently. “This is… extraordinary. The quality is remarkable.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t possibly ept something so valuable.”


    I shrugged. “It’s just a rock. I have others.” It wasn’t entirely true–this particr specimen was worth more than most people’s monthly sry–but I didn’t need it, and it might actually help him.


    Walter Morrison leaned closer, peering at the crystal with obvious interest. His eyes practically glittered with scientific curiosity. “That’s a rare specimen. The color saturation is exceptional.” He reached toward it. “May I?”


    Philip quickly slipped the crystal into his jacket pocket. “Perhapster, Walter. I’d like to keep it safe for now.” He gave me a warm smile. “Thank you, Miss Morgan. Your thoughtfulness continues to surprise me.”


    “It’s nothing,” I replied, already scanning the room for an escape route from this conversation.


    I didn’t get far before Eleanor Astor intercepted me, her blue evening gown swishing elegantly as she moved. The fabric shimmered under the chandelier lights, making her look like she was wrapped in ocean waves.


    “Jade,” she said, linking her arm through mine as if we were old friends.


    I raised an eyebrow. “What can I help you with?”


    She guided me toward a quieter corner. “I wanted to ask about Chris Jensen. You know him well, don’t you?”


    I kept my face neutral. “Well enough.”


    “What does he like?” Eleanor asked, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I mean, what kind of things interest him? I’ve tried to engage him in conversation twice now, and he’s been… distant.”


    “Chris likes challenges,” I said simply. It was the most urate description I could give without revealing too much


    about him.


    Eleanor’s eyes lit up. “Like extreme sports? Bungee jumping or paragliding?”


    Chase snorted from behind us. “Please<b>, </b>sis. The guy’s practically a mobwyer. You think he gets his kicks from tourist activities?<b>” </b>


    17:13 Wed, Sep 24 G ·


    ??))


    58


    Eleanor’s cheeks flushed. Her perfectly manicured nails tapped nervously against her champagne flute, betraying her anxiety despite her poised exterior.


    “When I talk to him,” Eleanor continued, “it feels like there’s this wall. Like he’s analyzing everything I say.”


    “He is,” I confirmed. “That’s how his mind works.”


    “So what do I do?”


    I considered the question. Eleanor had a sharp legal mind–I’d overheard enough of her conversations tonight to gather that much. “Have you thought about applying for an internship at his firm? He respectspetence more


    than small talk.”


    Chase nodded approvingly. “Not a bad idea.”


    Eleanor’s face brightened. “That’s… actually brilliant.” She squeezed my arm. “Thank you. I should go say hello to some people who just arrived, but I’ll definitely think about that.”


    As she walked away, Chase pulled out his phone and moved closer to me. “Speaking of things people like…” He thrust the screen in front of my face. “Look at this beauty I just saw in the driveway.”


    I nced at the photo of a sleek hypercar–my Koenigsegg One:1. The matte ck finish looked almost predatory under the exterior lighting of the mansion.


    “Isn’t she fucking gorgeous?” Chase gushed. “Only six of these in the entire world. I’d kill to drive one someday.”


    I reached into my pocket and tossed him a set of keys.


    Chase caught the keys reflexively, then froze as he examined the distinctive logo on the key fob. His eyes darted between me and the keys, jaw ckening. I could practically see his brain short–circuiting.


    ‘No fucking way,” he whispered. “This is <i>yours</i><b><i>?</i></b><b>” </b>


    I nodded.


    “Holy shit,” he breathed, clutching the keys like they might dissolve. “You own a fifteen–million–dor car?”


    ‘I like speed,” <b>I </b>said with a shrug. The car was one of my few indulgences–a reminder of freedom and control.


    Chase gripped my shoulder with his free hand. “You have to take me for a ride. Please. I’m begging you.” His eyes were wide with excitement, like a child on Christmas morning.


    I plucked the keys from his hand. “If you like it so much, go look at it again. It’s not going anywhere.”


    Chase was about to protest when his expression suddenly changed. He straightened, eyes fixed on something across the room. His posture stiffened, and I felt the subtle shift in the room’s atmosphere.


    :


    “Look at that guy, the tallest one,” he said, his voice dropping. “Ethan Haxton. The current head of the Haxton family. The one Aurelia was bragging about potentially getting engaged to through her cousinst time.”


    58


    I followed Chase’s gaze and found myself looking directly into a pair of intense green eyes. Ethan Haxton stood head and shoulders above most of the crowd, his tailored suit entuating his lean frame. Our eyes locked for a moment, and I felt an unexpected jolt of… something. Recognition, perhaps. Or awareness. Like recognizing another predator


    in the room.


    “He might look allw–abiding, but he’s just like Chris–ck as hell behind the scenes,” Chase continued, his voice tinged with nervous energy. “Hard as nails too. These women are all blind, only seeing his looks and family fortune.”


    Ethan broke our eye contact and began moving purposefully in our direction. His movements were smooth and deliberate, parting the crowd without effort. People instinctively moved aside for him, a testament to his status and


    presence.


    “Shit, he’sing over,” Chase hissed. “We should go.”


    “What are you afraid of?” I asked, amused by his reaction.


    “I’m not afraid,” Chase protested, though his fidgeting hands said otherwise. “Just… cautious. Hey, I bet you can’t get him to say three sentences to you unprompted.”


    I rolled my eyes. “That’s boring.”


    “The guy barely shows interest in women,” Chase persisted. “There are rumors he’s married to his work–Wall Street’s celibate elite or something. The guy might still be a virgin for all I know.”


    That caught my attention. “Really?” I hadn’t encountered many men who could resist charm when properly applied. A challenge, then.


    Chase nodded eagerly. “I bet you can’t get any physical contact with him. Handshakes don’t count.”


    I watched Ethan’s approach, noting the efficient grace in his movements.


    “What if I touch his face?” I asked, suddenly intrigued by the challenge,


    Chase’s eyes widened. “Jesus, Jade! You want to touch his face? That would be crossing-”


    “What’s <b>crossing</b>?” A deep voice interrupted.


    Ethan Haxton stood before us, his expression unreadable as he looked from Chase to me.


    17:13 Wed, Sep 24 <b>G </b>


    Badass in Disguise