Isabelle hit the spiral staircase, her heart still hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She had to get out. She had to put distance between herself and that man.
The marble steps were slick. The cleaning crew had just mopped, leaving the surface shining like a mirror under the overhead lights. She was moving too fast, her steps clumsy and panicked.
At the turn, her right foot slipped on the wet marble. Her ankle twisted violently. A sharp, loud crack echoed up the stairwell — but it wasn't her bone. It was the strap of her custom-made shoe snapping under the strain. The entire shoe came loose from her foot and skidded across the step.
Isabelle pitched forward, her knee slamming into the hard step. Pain shot up her leg, but the adrenaline was stronger. She didn't have time for pain. She bent down and ripped the broken shoe off her foot.
She couldn't run in one shoe. She yanked the other one off, the delicate straps cutting into her fingers as she pulled. She grabbed both of them, her knuckles white around the expensive leather.
The marble was freezing against her bare soles. It was a shock to her system, but it grounded her. She bolted down the rest of the stairs, her feet slapping against the cold stone, sounding like a startled rabbit fleeing a predator.
Behind her, she heard the measured, deliberate click of leather soles on marble. Bennett was descending the stairs. He wasn't running. He was taking his time.
He paused at the landing where she had stumbled. His gaze dropped to the step. Sitting there, alone and glittering under the light, was a single diamond-encrusted shoe — the one she had dropped in her panic.
Bennett stopped. He bent down and picked it up. It was exquisite craftsmanship. His thumb brushed over the inner sole, finding a line of tiny, engraved text. A custom signature. His expression shifted, his eyes unreadable pools of black. A flicker of a predatory smile touched his lips before vanishing. The game was just beginning.
Inside the banquet hall, Eleanor Caldwell was holding court with a group of clients. Her smile was tight, her eyes sharp. Isabelle slipped in through a side door, keeping her back to the wall. She just needed her coat. Then she could disappear.
Suddenly, the main doors swung open. Bennett's tall frame filled the doorway. The room went quiet for a split second. Every head turned. Every eye locked onto the new capital representative.
Bennett ignored the stares. His gaze swept across the room once — slow, deliberate — as if searching for something. Or someone. Then, without a word to anyone, he turned and walked back out, the diamond-encrusted shoe hidden in the pocket of his overcoat.
A murmur rippled through the crowd. "What was that about?" someone whispered.
Eleanor frowned, confused by the brief, unexplained appearance. But the moment passed, and the party resumed its buzz.
Isabelle pressed her spine against the cold pillar, her heart hammering. He hadn't given the shoe to anyone. He had kept it. And that was far more terrifying.
She waited until the crowd shifted, their attention moving back to the bar. Then she bolted. She dashed out the hotel's side entrance, the cold pavement biting into her bare feet. She swore to herself, right there on the sidewalk, that she would erase every trace of tonight.
