Nick extended his hand, palm open, eyes fixed on her.
"Shall we?" he asked, voice smooth, gaze unreadable.
Samantha held his stare for a moment. Not too long. Just enough.
"Sure," she said softly.
She placed her hand in his, and they moved together through the golden-lit crowd toward the ballroom's dance floor. The space parted for them like water.
Nick pulled her gently into his frame, one hand on her waist, the other guiding hers. The music swelled — a slow jazz instrumental with just enough swing to keep the atmosphere seductive.
Samantha forced a faint smile. Polished. Composed. But beneath the silk of her white dress, her blood boiled.
This wasn't just a dance.
This was part of her plan.
From across the room, Jake caught sight of them. He said nothing. He kept his hands folded behind his back, continuing his quiet conversation with a French investor, but his eyes flicked toward Samantha and Nick for the briefest second.
Then he looked away.
