The Grand Sterling's ballroom had dimmed to an intimate glow.
Golden light spilled across polished wine glasses as a jazz band crooned something low and slow in the corner.
By the time Amelia returned with the wine, the mood around Christopher's table had shifted.
Elena Moretti leaned closer, her laughter silk-smooth, her hand on his sleeve like she'd never left.
Christopher's face was unreadable — polite smile, controlled tone, eyes carefully blank.
But Amelia wasn't fooled. She'd learned how to read the micro-expressions he tried to bury.
The stiffness in his jaw. The slight twitch in his fingers.
He wasn't comfortable.
He was… cornered.
"Here's the 2012 reserve," she said, setting the bottle down gently.
Christopher nodded once. "Thank you, Miss Jones."
Elena tilted her head. "Miss Jones," she repeated with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Christopher has always had an eye for… capable women. You must be quite the assistant."
Amelia returned the smile just as sweetly. "I do my job well, ma'am. That's all that matters."
"Hmm. I can imagine," Elena purred. "You must spend long hours together. Late nights. Tight deadlines."
Amelia's heart hammered, but her voice stayed even. "KingTech requires dedication. Mr. King demands nothing less."
Christopher's gaze flicked toward her — briefly, sharply — like a silent warning: don't take the bait.
But Elena wasn't done. "I remember when he used to say that about me."
The words hit like a blade dipped in honey.
The table went quiet for a moment — the music swelling in the background, drowning out the storm in Amelia's chest.
---
Dinner dragged on.
The laughter, the toasts, the polite smiles — all of it a blur.
Amelia watched as Christopher slipped between conversations, charming investors, shaking hands, keeping up appearances.
He was untouchable again — the king in his kingdom.
But when Elena excused herself to greet a senator across the hall, he finally exhaled, tension draining from his shoulders.
"Are you alright, sir?" Amelia asked quietly, refilling his glass.
His jaw flexed. "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
He glanced at her — the faintest spark of amusement breaking through. "Observant as ever."
"Occupational hazard."
He almost smiled, then leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward the crowd. "You want to know the truth, Miss Jones?"
"About her?"
"About why I don't look fine."
She hesitated, then nodded. "If you want to tell me."
He looked down at the table for a long time before speaking.
"Elena and I… were engaged once."
Amelia froze. "You— what?"
"She left three weeks before the wedding. No warning. No explanation. Just a note that said, I can't love a man who loves control more than people."
Silence. Heavy and fragile.
Amelia didn't know what to say. The man sitting before her wasn't the cold tyrant she'd always seen — he was something else now.
Wounded. Human.
"Do you?" she finally asked.
He looked at her, puzzled. "Do I what?"
"Love control more than people?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I love results. People disappoint."
She tilted her head, meeting his eyes fearlessly. "Maybe that's because you never let them close enough to prove you wrong."
The air between them shifted — electric, thick with something neither of them wanted to name.
His voice dropped lower. "Careful, Miss Jones. You're treading on dangerous ground."
"Then maybe," she said softly, "you shouldn't have invited me to dinner with the devil."
For a second, his façade cracked — a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"Touché," he murmured.
---
But before either could say more, Elena returned — radiant and smug.
"Oh, Christopher," she sang, resting a hand on his shoulder. "They're asking for you on stage. Investor toast."
He stood immediately, mask sliding back into place. "Duty calls."
As he walked away, Elena leaned close to Amelia, voice dripping venom.
"You're brave. But don't mistake proximity for importance. He only ever keeps people close when he needs to use them."
Amelia's stomach twisted, but she didn't flinch.
Instead, she smiled, eyes steady. "Funny. He said the same thing about people who leave."
For once, Elena's perfect smile faltered.
---
As the music swelled again, Amelia watched Christopher step onto the stage, glass in hand.
He looked like power itself — confident, commanding, untouchable.
And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that beneath all that perfection…
He was watching her too.
---