Scarlett POV
I hovered just outside the main ballroom doors, the glow from inside spilling out as if it were mocking me. Crystal chandeliers, laughter, clinking glasses — everything looked perfect and shiny. My stomach twisted as I scanned the crowd through the open doorway for the hundredth time. Do I go in? Or bail?
My wolf paced restlessly under my skin, ears flat, tail flicking with agitation. The scent of too many bodies mixed with expensive cologne and catering food wafted out, but underneath it all, I knew his smell would cut through like a blade that made my pulse stutter, whether I wanted it to.
“Miss Ravencroft. You skulking around out here? Planning a heist or something?”
That smug voice hit me before I even looked up. Gary Hirsch. Of course. The guy was like a nasty rash
