Liam didn't react outwardly. He'd spent too many years learning how to keep his expression under control, especially when something caught him off guard. But Sebastian knew Elena, and that was new.

Elena had mentioned that everyone in the art world knew Sebastian Hart, but Liam had assumed that meant professionally, the same way she knew hundreds of people through Rossi Arts. He hadn't expected Sebastian to greet her with such familiarity, or to know her name without being introduced.

The connection came quickly. The Velvet Rope. The Eros shipment. The missing batch. Sebastian stood three feet away, looking at Elena as though they had history.

Liam kept his expression neutral, but he was paying much closer attention now.

“Elena.” Sebastian's voice was warm, his smile easy. “I'm so happy to see you here tonight.”

Liam watched her as she turned toward him. She kept her posture straight, her chin lifted, but he caught the small signs of nerves he'd learned to recognize—the slight movement in her throat, the way her fingers briefly touched the seam of her dress before settling again.

“Sebastian,” she said. “It's a pleasure to see you again.”

Liam's attention sharpened. Sebastian, not Mr. Hart. It was a small thing, but it told him more than he'd expected.

Sebastian's smile widened. "I never miss this gala. The curation is always exceptional." His gaze dropped to her dress, then rose again, slower this time. "Though I have to say, the art on the walls has some competition tonight."

Elena's lips pressed into something that wasn't quite a smile. "You're too kind."

“I only call it like I see it.” Sebastian held her gaze a moment too long, then turned to Liam as if noticing him for the first time. "Liam. I was wondering when you'd surface at one of these again."

The switch was seamless. The flirtatious warmth for Elena, the knowing edge for him. Liam met his gaze and let the silence stretch one heartbeat past comfortable, the way he always did when he wanted the other man to feel the weight of who had spoken first.

"Sebastian." He said the name like he was testing a blade. "You know my consultant."

It wasn't a question. It was a line in the sand, delivered flat enough that Sebastian would have to choose how to step around it.

“Elena and I crossed paths at a gallery opening last spring. The Wentworth retrospective. We ended up talking about an artist neither of us had expected to see there. She knew more about his work than I did.” Sebastian smiled. “That doesn't happen to me very often.”

Liam remembered the opening. He hadn't attended, but he remembered the file. Elena Rossi had been building her business, networking, shaking hands. And of course Sebastian Hart had been there.

"A good eye is essential in this business," Liam said. His hand found the small of Elena's back — light, possessive, a claim made without looking at her. "That's why I had to acquire her."

Sebastian's gaze dropped to Liam's hand, then rose again, unreadable. "Smart move. Though I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you working for Thorn Holdings. I'd heard you were building something independent, Elena."

The question hung in the air, silk-wrapped and sharp. Elena shifted beside him — barely, but Liam felt it through his palm.

"Opportunities evolve," she said. Her voice was steady. "Liam offered me a role that aligned with my expertise and an offer I couldn’t refuse, so I took it."

She didn't explain any more than that. Didn't justify. Liam felt a flicker of something he didn’t allow to settle—too close to guilt to be useful. It surfaced, sharp and unwelcome, and was gone just as quickly as he pushed it back under control.

Sebastian tilted his head, studying her like she was a painting he was reconsidering. "I see. Well, Thorn Holdings is lucky to have you." He let the words sit, then added, "If you ever want a second opinion on a piece, my door is always open. You know where to find me."

The invitation was smooth and professional, but Liam didn't miss the implication. His jaw tightened slightly.

"Elena's expertise is fully occupied," Liam said. "Thorn Holdings keeps her busy."

Sebastian's smile tightened slightly. “I'm sure it does.” He extended his hand to Liam. “Good to see you in the field, Liam. It's been too long.”

Liam took it. Sebastian's grip was firm and deliberate, and Liam matched it without hesitation. Neither man seemed in any hurry to be the first to let go.

"Enjoy the gala," Liam said. "I'll have to reconnect with you later.”

Sebastian laughed, a low, genuine sound that didn't reach his eyes. "Of course, Liam." He gave Elena one last look. "Take care of yourself, Elena. And if you ever want that second opinion — "

"She won't."

Sebastian lifted his hands in surrender, a faint smile still on his face. “I'll let you two get back to the evening.” Then he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Liam watched him go, his hand still resting lightly against Elena's back. He found himself replaying the conversation, going back over small details that hadn't seemed important when Sebastian first approached them.

Sebastian knew her name. He knew her business. He knew enough about her work to remember a conversation they'd had months ago. That wasn't strange in itself. Elena had spent years building Rossi Arts, and Sebastian moved through the same circles. A gallery opening was more than enough for two people in the same industry to cross paths. What Liam hadn't expected was how familiar they'd seemed with each other.

She'd called him Sebastian. He'd called her Elena, as though there had never been any reason to use anything else. There had been an ease between them that Liam couldn't quite explain, and for some reason, he found himself wondering how many times they'd spoken since that opening.

He didn't like that he was wondering.

His gaze followed Sebastian until the crowd swallowed him completely. Then Liam looked down at Elena, his attention lingering for a moment before he forced it back toward the room.

There was nothing unusual about Sebastian knowing her. Nothing he could point to as a reason for concern.

And yet, Liam couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something about their familiarity he hadn't accounted for.

He turned to Elena. She was watching him, her green eyes guarded, her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew what that exchange had been. She wasn't stupid.

"You didn't tell me you knew Sebastian Hart."

The words came out flat, neutral, but they were an accusation wrapped in a statement. He saw her spine stiffen.

"I didn't think it was relevant." Her voice was careful. "I met him once, at a gallery opening. He was polite. He remembered my name. That's the extent of it."

“He remembered your name, your business, and the artist you were discussing six months ago.” Liam held her gaze. “That's more than polite.”

Elena's jaw tightened. “I don't know what you want me to say. I didn't seek him out. He approached me at the opening; we talked about an artist, and I left. I haven't seen him since tonight.”

She held his gaze. “If you're asking whether I'm working with him, the answer is no. If you're asking whether I knew he'd be here, the answer is also no.” Her voice sharpened slightly. “I came here with you as your consultant because you asked me to. I'm not part of whatever you're assuming.”

The words came quickly, without hesitation. Liam watched her for a moment. She didn't look nervous or evasive. If anything, she seemed more irritated that he was making something out of a conversation she clearly considered unimportant.

Liam held her gaze a moment longer, then let out a slow breath. He hadn't expected Sebastian and Elena to know each other, and he still wasn't sure why that bothered him. He looked toward the crowd.

"Let's walk."

They moved through the current of guests, the chandeliers casting fractals of light across the marble floor. Crystal clinked against crystal. The low thrum of conversation wrapped around them, punctuated by the occasional laugh, the clatter of a dropped fork from the dining balcony. Elena's shoulder brushed his arm as they navigated a cluster of investors deep in conversation about auction estimates.

A fresh swell of applause rolled through the ballroom as another piece was unveiled beneath a silk cloth near the center stage. Guests drifted toward it with glasses in hand, conversations shifting from business to brushstrokes and estimated values.

Liam barely noticed. His attention remained fixed on the place where Sebastian had disappeared.

Liam's attention snagged on a familiar figure near the bar.

Pale skin. Black hair styled to look careless, though the product alone probably cost a hundred dollars a jar. A tailored charcoal suit draped over a lean, untested frame.

Lucien Orleth. His cousin.

And beside him stood a girl who looked completely out of place. She had short black hair and sharp blue eyes that moved across the room as though she were checking the exits. A black shawl was draped over a simple dress that seemed almost too plain for the glittering crowd. What caught Liam's attention was the small flash of silver at her lower lip, a piercing that looked distinctly out of place among the pearls and diamonds surrounding them.

Liam's step slowed as he placed her. He'd seen her before, in a file Victor had flagged and left on his desk. Veya Vexley. A street kid with a habit of getting into places she had no business being. She'd recently been involved in some kind of theft connected to the Orleths, though the details had been difficult to uncover. The family had clearly gone to some effort to keep the matter quiet.

So what was she doing here, dressed up and standing beside his brat of a cousin?

Elena felt the shift in his pace and followed his gaze. "Someone you know?"

"Family," Liam said, the word carrying no warmth.

He changed course, guiding her toward the bar. Lucien looked up as they approached, and the flicker of recognition on his face was immediately replaced by a practiced smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"Liam." Lucien's voice was light, edged with disdain. "I was wondering when you'd slum it with the rest of us."

"Lucien," Liam said the name flatly. "You're looking well. The family business suits you."

"Suits me better than it suits you, apparently. I heard you're playing art dealer now." Lucien's gaze slid to Elena, lingering on her dress, her face. "And who's this? Your latest acquisition?"

Elena's spine stiffened, but her voice came out smooth. "Elena Rossi. Art consultant for Thorn Holdings."

Lucien's eyebrows rose. "Consultant. Is that what you're calling it?"

A waiter appeared beside them carrying crystal flutes of champagne. Elena accepted one out of politeness. Liam declined without looking away from Lucien.

Lucien took two.

Liam ignored the jab. “How's your father?” The question landed exactly as intended. Lucien's smirk faded slightly, his jaw tightening. “Fine. You could always ask him yourself. His table has room, if you remembered where it was.”

Liam didn't take the bait. His attention shifted deliberately to the girl beside Lucien. She was watching him with flat, assessing eyes, her weight on the balls of her feet like she was ready to bolt. She didn't fidget. She didn't smile. She just watched, waiting.

“And who's this?” Liam asked.

The girl glanced at Lucien, then back at Liam without offering her name. “She's with me,” Lucien said curtly. “That's all you need to know.”

“I wasn't asking you.” Liam's voice remained pleasant, but there was an edge to it, the quiet expectation of a man accustomed to getting answers. He looked directly at the girl and held her gaze. “What's your name?”

She studied him for a long moment, her sharp blue eyes not indicating fear. It was the look of someone deciding whether answering was worth the trouble. Finally, she shrugged. “Veya.”

“Veya.” Liam let the name settle for a moment. “That's a beautiful and unusual name.”

She didn't thank him. Didn't soften. Just watched him with those sharp blue eyes, as if she was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Is she your date, Lucien?" Liam asked, turning back to his cousin with an almost pleasant expression.

Lucien's mouth opened, but Veya got there first.

"No!" The word was flat, immediate. "I'm not his date."

Liam's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. He turned to her fully, a hint of warmth slipping into his voice that he rarely showed in public. "Then forgive me, Veya. It was rude of me to assume a beautiful lady like you would be with my brat of a cousin."

The word brat landed exactly as Liam intended. The cousins had never gotten along, especially after Liam's mother had cut herself off from the family. Lucien's eyes narrowed, color rising in his pale cheeks.

“Says the cousin who abandoned the family,” Lucien said, his voice dropping.

“You're acting like one.” Liam met his gaze evenly. “You're at a gala. Act like it.”

Lucien's hand went to his pocket—the silver lighter, no doubt, a nervous habit Liam remembered from childhood. "You're one to talk, Thorn. Dragging your contract girl around like she's a prize."

Elena's breath caught, but she didn't speak. Liam's face stayed still, but something cold slid behind his eyes.

"Careful, cousin."

Lucien's smirk returned, shaky but defiant. “I hate even needing to be here.” He reached for Veya's arm, curling his fingers around her elbow. “Come on.”

Veya shook him off, not hard, but deliberately. “I can walk.” She fell into step beside him, but as they turned to leave, she paused and looked back. Her sharp blue eyes met Elena's, holding for a moment longer than necessary. There was something in the look, something Elena couldn't quite understand.

Then they were gone, swallowed by the crowd near the champagne tower. Liam remained still for a moment, watching the space where they'd disappeared. His expression gave nothing away, but his hand at Elena's back had gone still, the pressure fading until she barely felt it.

Elena glanced toward the crowd. Veya wasn't looking at the paintings. She'd spent most of the conversation watching the guests and the exits, as though she were already looking for a way out.

“That was your cousin?”

“My mother's side of the family,” Liam said, his voice flat. “They're... a lot.”

“She seemed like she didn't want to be here.” Elena kept watching the crowd, though there was no sign of the girl with the short black hair and silver piercing. “She looked like she was casing the room.”

Liam's jaw tightened. He hadn't meant to bring Elena into any of this. “She probably was.” His gaze moved across the room. “Veya has a reputation for getting into places she shouldn't. Victor mentioned her once.”

Elena looked up at him. “So you know her?”

“No. Only by reputation.” Liam glanced toward the crowd again. “She's young, but she's apparently good at what she does. Whether she's a thief, a scout, or simply unlucky, I couldn't tell you.”

“Why would she be with your cousin?”

“That's a good question.” Liam's hand settled against the small of her back again, steady and warm. “My uncle has a habit of surrounding himself with people who owe him favors. Veya may be useful to him for any number of reasons.”

Elena frowned slightly. “You don't think she'd try anything tonight?”

“Not here.” Liam's gaze swept over the room. “Too many people. Too much security. Even someone experienced would have to be careful in a room like this.”

Elena was quiet for a moment, still looking toward the crowd where Lucien and Veya had disappeared. Whatever Veya was doing there, Elena had the distinct impression that being at the gala hadn't been her idea.

He could now see Hart sitting alone at a corner table on the edge of the room. No champagne. No companion. Just his phone face-down on the white tablecloth and his eyes moving steadily across the crowd, taking in everyone who passed.

Seeing him there brought the purpose of the evening back into sharp focus. He'd planned to confront Hart tonight, but not with Elena still beside him. Still, he hadn't come this far to let an opportunity pass.

He turned to Elena, his face smoothing into that familiar business-like mask. "I need you to start scouting the pieces."

She blinked. "Now?"

“The auction starts soon. Before it does, I want your opinion on every piece we've marked as a potential acquisition."

He pulled out the catalog from his jacket and slipped it into her hands. Several lots were already circled in black ink.

“If you find something that doesn't belong on this list, tell me. If you find something that's missing, tell me that too.”

Elena studied him for a long moment. He knew she wasn't stupid — He was sure she knew a dismissal when she heard one, and he only hoped she hadn't guessed why he'd sent her away — or who — he'd just been looking at across the room. But she didn't argue. She nodded, smoothed the front of her sapphire dress, and turned toward the auction displays. "An hour. Top five. Provenance gaps."

"Good."

He watched her walk away, the fabric of her dress catching the light with each step, her shoulders set with that quiet determination he'd come to recognize. Then he turned, adjusted the cuff of his jacket, and crossed the ballroom floor.