The flashbulbs were blinding. Ellyn stepped onto the red carpet alone, the humidity of the evening making her dress cling uncomfortably to her skin.

"Where's Hardy?" a reporter shouted. "Trouble in paradise?"

Ellyn ignored them, keeping her chin high. She entered the ballroom, the heavy bass of the string quartet vibrating in the floorboards.

Sloane Burnett intercepted her near the champagne tower. Hardy's cousin was wearing a dress that cost more than Ellyn's childhood home.

"Bold choice," Sloane sneered, looking Ellyn up and down. "Wearing last season's cut. Is the allowance running low because your daddy gambled it all away?"

A few women nearby tittered behind their fans.

"It's vintage, Sloane," Ellyn said, her voice steady despite the rapid thudding of her heart. "Class doesn't have an expiration date. Unlike your trust fund, if you keep failing your board reviews."

Sloane's face flushed red. She opened her mouth to retort, but a hush fell over the room. The air shifted, sucked toward the grand entrance.

Hardy walked in.

He looked devastating in a tuxedo, his jawline sharp, his presence commanding. But he wasn't alone.

Tucked into the crook of his arm was a hand gloved in white silk.

Izabella Macdonald floated beside him. She wore white-pure, angelic white-looking for all the world like a bride.

Ellyn felt the blood drain from her face. Her legs went numb.

"Oh, this is delicious," Sloane whispered in her ear. "Look at them. The King and his true Queen. You should probably leave through the kitchen."

Hardy scanned the room. His eyes locked onto Ellyn. His expression was unreadable-a mask of stone. He didn't look guilty. He looked... resolved.

Izabella guided him toward Ellyn. The crowd parted like the Red Sea.

"Ellyn!" Izabella beamed, reaching out. She pulled Ellyn into a hug that felt like a constrictor snake wrapping around its prey.

"Ellyn, I am so terribly sorry about this," Izabella whispered, her lips brushing Ellyn's ear, her voice a perfect imitation of remorse. "My ankle is killing me, and he's just being a gentleman. Please don't be upset with him."

Ellyn stiffened. She smelled the perfume on Izabella-Santal 33. The same scent Hardy wore.

Cameras flashed maniacally. The headline was writing itself: The Wife, The Husband, and The Soulmate.

"Hardy," Ellyn said, looking at her husband. "What is this?"

Hardy didn't answer. He looked at Izabella, who was gazing up at him with wide, watery eyes.

"She twisted her ankle outside," Hardy said finally. "I helped her in."

"And the arm?" Ellyn asked.

Sloane laughed loudly. "Face it, honey. You're holding a place card."

Ellyn took a step back. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing down on her chest. She turned to leave.

Hardy moved.

Hardy's arm jerked. He pulled away from Izabella so abruptly that she stumbled, her white heel catching on the carpet.

"Hardy?" Izabella's voice wavered, the mask slipping for a fraction of a second.

Hardy didn't look at her. He adjusted his cuff, a sharp, irritated movement. He crossed the three feet separating him from Ellyn in a single stride.

He blocked her path.

The room went silent. Sloane stopped laughing.

Hardy extended his hand, palm up.

"We're late," he said, his voice low and rough. "Grandmother Rose is waiting in the VIP suite."

Ellyn stared at his hand. It was large, calloused from rowing crew at Yale, capable of hurting her and holding her.

"Hardy..."

"Take my hand, Ellyn," he commanded, though there was a strange urgency in his eyes.

She placed her hand in his. His fingers closed around hers instantly, tight, almost crushing. It wasn't a romantic hold; it was a grip. An anchor.

He pulled her to his side, turning his back on Izabella.

As they passed Sloane, Hardy stopped. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

"Sloane," Hardy said. His voice was quiet, lethal. "If you speak to my wife with that tone again, I will freeze your access to the family trust. You'll be begging for a job at a diner by Monday."

Sloane paled, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Hardy didn't wait for a response. He marched Ellyn through the crowd, his grip never loosening. They entered the private corridor leading to the VIP suites, the heavy velvet curtains cutting off the noise of the party.

The moment they were alone, Hardy dropped her hand.

Ellyn rubbed her knuckles. "Thank you," she said softly.

"Don't," Hardy snapped. He loosened his bow tie, pacing the narrow hallway. "I didn't do it for you. The Burnett name doesn't tolerate public discord. You looked weak out there."

The relief Ellyn had felt evaporated. "I looked weak because you walked in with your ex-girlfriend."

"She needed help," Hardy said defensively, though he wouldn't meet her eyes. "I'm not going to leave a woman stranded on the sidewalk."

"You left me stranded in this marriage three years ago," Ellyn shot back.

Hardy stopped pacing. He looked at her, really looked at her, his jaw working. For a second, something raw flashed in his eyes-anger? Guilt? Desire?

"Mr. and Mrs. Burnett," a sharp voice croaked.

Grandmother Rose sat in her wheelchair at the end of the hall, her cane tapping rhythmically on the floor.

Hardy's mask slammed back into place. He grabbed Ellyn's hand again.

"Smile," he hissed. "Showtime."

Grandmother Rose didn't smile. Her eyes, sharp as hawks, darted between Hardy and Ellyn.

"You're late," she said. "And I hear rumors of a circus out there."

"Just rumors, Grandmother," Hardy said smoothly. He guided Ellyn to the sofa opposite the wheelchair.

"Is there news?" Rose asked, pointing her cane at Ellyn's stomach. "The stock price is wobbling. The board wants stability. They want an heir."

Ellyn felt the phantom taste of the morning-after pill in her mouth.

"We're trying," Hardy lied. His voice was steady, convincing. He shot a look at Ellyn, a silent command. "Play along," he hissed under his breath, so low only she could hear, "unless you want the board to panic." "These things take time."

"Time is money," Rose snapped. "If you can't provide, Ellyn, the family will have to consider... alternatives. We need viable lineage."

She meant Izabella. The threat hung in the air, toxic and heavy.

Ellyn forced herself to stand. She walked behind Rose's wheelchair and began to massage the old woman's tense shoulders.

"Hardy is taking good care of me, Grandmother," Ellyn said, her voice soft. "He makes sure I rest. He brings me tea in the morning. We are very... happy."

Hardy watched her. His eyebrows lifted slightly. He knew she was lying, but he seemed surprised by how easily it rolled off her tongue.

Rose relaxed under Ellyn's hands. "Good. You have good hands, child. Don't let that Macdonald girl steal your seat. She's flashy, but she's not sturdy."

"I won't," Ellyn whispered.

Hardy stood up abruptly. "I need to speak to the board members."

He grabbed Ellyn's elbow and steered her out of the suite. Once they were in the corridor, he didn't let go. He pushed her back until her shoulder blades hit the wall.

He caged her in, his arms on either side of her head.

"Tea in the morning?" he murmured, leaning down. His breath smelled of scotch and mint. "You're a better liar than I thought."

"I learned from the best," Ellyn said, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Hardy stared at her mouth. His gaze darkened. The anger from earlier seemed to mutate into something else-something hotter. He leaned closer. His nose brushed hers.

"Maybe we should make it true," he whispered, his voice dropping an octave. "The heir part."

Ellyn stopped breathing. For a terrifying second, she wanted him to close the gap.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

A specific, melodic ringtone cut through the air. Clair de Lune.

Izabella's ringtone.

Hardy froze. The spell shattered. He pulled back, fishing his phone from his pocket.

"Bella?" His voice changed instantly-softer, concerned. "Where are you? ... The driver isn't there? Stay put. I'm coming."

He hung up. He didn't look at Ellyn.

"I have to go," he said.

"Hardy," Ellyn said, her voice trembling. "Don't go."

"She's alone, Ellyn."

"I'm alone," she whispered.

He hesitated, his hand on the doorknob. Then he turned it. "Go eat dinner. I'll be back."

He left her standing in the hallway, the echo of his footsteps fading away.