Vaughn stopped right in front of Carli. He puffed out his chest, trying to look intimidating.

Isla leaned against him. She reached up and touched the massive diamonds on her neck, making sure everyone saw them.

"Carli," Isla said. Her voice was high-pitched and sickeningly sweet. "Are you here all alone? That must be so sad for you."

A group of wealthy women gathered around them, holding their drinks, eager to watch the drama unfold.

Carli took a slow sip of her champagne. She looked Isla up and down, her eyes full of bored disgust.

Carli switched to flawless, Parisian-accented French. "Your dress is a cheap knockoff from last season. The stitching on the bodice is uneven. It makes you look wide."

Isla blinked. She didn't speak a word of French. She looked around, confused.

The old-money women in the crowd understood perfectly. Several of them let out sharp, mocking laughs.

Vaughn's face flushed red. He stepped closer to Carli. "Stop making a scene," he hissed. "You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm not the one who brought a cheap escort to a Gutierrez event," Carli said in English. Her voice was loud enough for the whole circle to hear.

Vaughn's jaw dropped. He took a furious step forward.

Before he could speak, a blur of pink silk rushed out from the crowd. It was Lilah.

Lilah's cheek was covered in heavy foundation, but the swelling from Carli's slap was still visible. She was holding a massive glass of red wine.

Lilah pretended to trip over her own heels. She lunged forward, aiming the glass of dark red wine directly at Carli's emerald gown.

Carli saw her coming. Her reflexes were instant.

Carli took one smooth, elegant step to the right.

Lilah hit empty air. Her momentum carried her forward. Her high heels slipped on the polished marble floor.

Lilah crashed hard onto the ground. The glass shattered. The entire glass of red wine splashed back onto her own face and ruined her pink silk dress.

The sound of shattering glass made the entire ballroom turn and look.

Lilah lay on the floor, covered in wine and glass, looking like a bleeding pig. She burst into loud, ugly tears.

Vaughn dropped Isla's hand and rushed to Lilah. He pulled her up.

Lilah buried her face in Vaughn's chest. "She tripped me!" Lilah sobbed, pointing a shaking finger at Carli. "Carli pushed me!"

The crowd groaned in disgust. Everyone had seen Carli step out of the way. The lie was pathetic.

Carli looked down at them. "Idiots," she muttered. She turned to walk away.

"Security!" Vaughn screamed at the top of his lungs. "Get this crazy bitch out of here!"

His loud, crude voice echoed through the elegant room.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

The heavy, rhythmic sound of a wooden cane hitting the floor came from the grand staircase.

The entire ballroom went dead silent. People quickly stepped back, bowing their heads in respect.

Isadora Gutierrez, the matriarch of the family, walked down the stairs. She was eighty years old, with stark white hair and eyes like a hawk. She held a black onyx cane.

Isadora walked straight toward the mess. She looked at Lilah crying and Vaughn yelling. Her face twisted in deep displeasure.

Then, Isadora's sharp eyes moved past them. Her gaze landed squarely on Carli.

Isadora stopped in the center of the crowd. She leaned heavily on her onyx cane. The air in the room felt suffocating.

Vaughn thought Isadora was coming to help him. He pointed at Carli. "Mrs. Gutierrez, this woman is attacking people. She needs to be thrown out."

Isadora didn't even look at him. "The Adler boy," she said, her voice dry and cold. "You have no manners."

Vaughn's face drained of color. He snapped his mouth shut and stepped back.

Isadora walked right up to Carli. Her sharp, wrinkled eyes scanned Carli from head to toe.

Carli didn't flinch. She kept her spine perfectly straight. She offered a small, respectful nod to the older woman.

Isadora's eyes softened slightly. "That dress," Isadora said. "Is that Edna's work?"

Carli's heart skipped a beat. "Yes, ma'am. She designed it for me."

Isadora nodded slowly. "You have your aunt's spine. I like you."

The crowd gasped. The socialites who had been laughing at Carli moments ago now stared at her with pure, unhidden jealousy.

Lilah, still dripping with wine, dug her nails into Vaughn's arm. Her face twisted with rage.

Isadora turned her head slightly to her guards. "Throw the trash out. They are ruining my floor."

Two massive men in black suits stepped forward. They grabbed Lilah by the arms and dragged her toward the side exit. Lilah screamed and kicked, but they didn't stop.

Vaughn took half a step forward to help her, but one of the guards glared at him. Vaughn froze, watching Lilah get thrown out into the street.

Isadora looked toward the main table. She raised her hand.

"Fletcher," she called out. Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the silence.

Fletcher Gutierrez put down his glass. He stood up. He walked across the room with long, powerful strides.

As he got closer, the heavy scent of cedar and tobacco wrapped around Carli again. Her lungs tightened.

Fletcher stopped next to his grandmother. "Yes, Grandmother." His voice was low and smooth. But his dark eyes were locked entirely on Carli.

"Escort Carli for the rest of the evening," Isadora commanded. "See that she is protected."

The room collectively held its breath. The ruthless king of Wall Street, acting as a bodyguard for a disgraced heiress.

Vaughn stared at them, his hands balled into fists, his eyes burning with jealousy.

As he approached, Carli thought she saw a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes, a glint of satisfaction that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He stepped closer to Carli and offered her his right arm.

Carli looked at his thick, muscular arm. She wanted to destroy Vaughn completely. She placed her hand on Fletcher's forearm.

The second her skin touched his suit, the muscles beneath the fabric went rock hard.

Fletcher slid his hand around to the small of her back. His large palm rested against the bare skin exposed by the deep V of her dress. His hand was burning hot.

He leaned down. His lips brushed against her ear.

"You look beautiful tonight," he whispered. His voice was a harsh, gravelly rasp.

Carli's brain short-circuited. The memory of the dark club crashed over her. A jolt went through her spine, sharp and sudden. The voice... the heat radiating from his chest... the rich, dark smell... it was all disturbingly familiar. It was an echo of that night that made her skin prickle with a confusing mix of fear and excitement. She searched his face for any sign of recognition, her mind racing to connect the ruthless billionaire standing before her with the masked stranger in the shadows.

Fletcher's face was completely blank. His dark eyes gave away absolutely nothing.

He tightened his grip on her waist and guided her forward, leaving Vaughn standing alone in the crowd.

Fletcher's hand burned against Carli's lower back. He guided her through the crowd, but the surge of guests slowed their progress near the center.

Carli's heart hammered against her ribs. She stared at the side of his face. She looked at his sharp jawline, trying to map the black mask onto his features.

Fletcher felt her staring. He turned his head. He raised one thick eyebrow, looking at her with perfect, innocent confusion.

He grabbed a glass of sparkling water from a waiter and handed it to her.

Carli took the glass. As she did, her fingertips brushed against his palm. She felt the rough calluses on his skin. The exact same calluses that had gripped her hips last night.

She leaned closer to him. She lowered her voice. "Tell me, Mr. Gutierrez. Do you ever spend your evenings in the Meatpacking District?"

Fletcher took a sip of his drink. His face didn't change. "Too loud," he said smoothly. "Not my kind of crowd."

Carli frowned. Doubt crept into her mind. Maybe the alcohol and the stress had messed with her memory.

Suddenly, the massive antique grandfather clock in the center of the room chimed.

Vaughn was still near the center, stalling the security guards as he tried to pull Isla away to save face.

A loud, violent screech of tearing metal echoed from the ceiling.

The music stopped. Carli looked up.

Her pupils shrank to pinpricks. Her blood ran cold.

The massive, multi-tiered crystal chandelier, as large as a small car, hanging directly over the center of the room was pulling away from the ceiling. The thick iron bolts were snapping one by one.

Directly underneath it stood Vaughn and Isla.

People started screaming. The crowd panicked, shoving each other to get away from the center of the room.

The last bolt snapped. The chandelier plummeted.

The crowd's scream was his only warning. Vaughn's eyes shot up, and pure terror seized his features. He didn't think; he just reacted to save his own skin. In a split second of pure animal instinct, he shoved Isla violently to the side as he threw himself to the ground, a fraction of a second before the chandelier obliterated the spot where they had stood. He completely forgot about Carli, who was standing only a few feet away.

Carli was frozen. The massive shadow of the falling glass covered her. She didn't have time to run. She closed her eyes and braced for the crushing impact.

A massive force slammed into her.

Fletcher grabbed her waist with both hands. He yanked her violently into his chest. He spun them around, throwing Carli to the floor and covering her entirely with his massive body.

CRASH.

The chandelier hit the marble floor. The sound was deafening. Thousands of heavy, razor-sharp crystal shards exploded outward like shrapnel. Dust and debris filled the air.

Carli was pressed hard against the floor. Fletcher's arms were wrapped tight around her head. She smelled his cedar scent mixed with the smell of crushed stone. She didn't feel a single piece of glass hit her, though her palms stung from the impact with the marble floor.

Above her, Fletcher let out a sharp, guttural grunt. His body jerked hard.

The noise stopped. People were crying and screaming through the thick dust.

Carli opened her eyes. She looked past Fletcher's shoulder. She saw Vaughn cowering on the ground, leaving Isla trembling in the dust beside him. Any lingering feeling she had for Vaughn died right there.

She looked up at Fletcher. His eyes were squeezed shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

Carli reached around his back to hold him. Her hand touched something wet and warm.

She pulled her hand back. Her fingers were covered in thick, dark red blood. A massive piece of crystal had sliced straight through his suit jacket and deep into his back.

"Fletcher," Carli gasped, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his bleeding back.

Fletcher opened his eyes. He looked down at her. Through the pain, his dark eyes burned with an intensity that terrified her.

Their blood was mixed on her hands. The game had just changed.