The moment we stepped inside, the air changed.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t obvious. But it pressed against my skin all the same, like walking into a room where a fight had already started and no one had raised their voice yet.
Every head turned.
I felt it before I saw it. The way attention snapped toward us was sharp and immediate. Conversations dipped. Smiles paused halfway. Glasses stopped midair.
I lifted my chin without thinking.
Zander’s hand tightened at my waist. Not rough. Not gentle either. Possessive. Deliberate. Like he wanted every person in the room to understand exactly where I stood.
I scanned faces as we moved forward.
Men, mostly. Suits cut too perfectly. Eyes cold. Some looked annoyed. Some looked confused. A few seemed openly angry, like our presence offended them.
