Silence swallowed the foyer.

Seren stared at Poppy.

Vanessa stared at Adrian.

And Adrian, infuriatingly, looked almost amused.

"No," Seren said quickly.

"Not currently," Adrian said at the exact same time.

Seren's head snapped toward him.

"Not currently?"

One corner of his mouth moved.

"Would you prefer I lie to a child?"

"I would prefer you not make it sound like there's a pending application."

Poppy brightened.

"So there could be?"

"No," Seren said.

"Breakfast," Adrian said calmly.

Vanessa's expression could have frozen champagne.

Three days later, Seren discovered that humiliation apparently had a dress code.

Blackwood Foundation dinners were not technically galas, Evelyn explained. They were "small private affairs."

Apparently, in Blackwood language, small meant eighty guests, a string quartet, six-foot floral arrangements, and enough champagne to pay Seren's old rent for a year.

The estate had been transformed by sunset.

White roses spilled over crystal vases. Candlelight flickered against silver. Manhattan's wealthiest donors began arriving in black cars while photographers waited beyond the gates.

Seren had planned to stay upstairs with the children.

Vanessa had other ideas.

"I need you in the ballroom."

Seren looked up from helping Poppy fasten a tiny gold bracelet.

"I'm Poppy's nanny."

"Exactly."

Vanessa stood in the doorway wearing a champagne silk gown that probably cost more than Seren's car.

Her pale green eyes moved over Seren's simple black dress.

"The event coordinator is short-staffed. Someone needs to check place cards, handle the gift bags, and make sure the powder rooms remain presentable."

Seren went very still.

"Vanessa," Evelyn warned.

"What?"

Vanessa smiled.

"I'm only asking her to help."

"No," Seren said softly. "You're reminding me where you think I belong."

Vanessa's smile sharpened.

"Am I wrong?"

Before Seren could answer, Adrian appeared behind her.

Black tuxedo.

White shirt.

No tie yet.

Seren hated the way her body noticed him before her brain could object.

His gaze landed on Vanessa.

"Is there a problem?"

"None at all," Vanessa said smoothly. "Seren volunteered to help downstairs."

Seren almost laughed.

"I did?"

Vanessa ignored her.

Adrian's eyes narrowed.

Then Poppy tugged his sleeve.

"Uncle Adrian, Vanessa is being mean again."

"Poppy."

"What? She is."

Adrian looked at Seren.

"You don't have to work the dinner."

Something hot and stubborn rose inside her.

Five years ago, she might have accepted the rescue.

Tonight, she didn't want one.

"It's fine."

"Seren."

"I said I can handle it."

His gaze held hers.

Something changed in it.

Not pity.

Respect.

"All right," he said.

Vanessa's victory lasted exactly forty-seven minutes.

Seren fixed the seating chart after two donors had been assigned to the same chair.

She caught the florist's mistake before white lilies were placed beside a guest with a severe allergy.

When the caterer discovered the printed menu listed the wrong wine pairing, Seren corrected the layout herself and had replacements printed before anyone noticed.

By eight o'clock, the event coordinator had stopped giving her instructions.

She was asking for them.

"How do you know all this?" Maya Chen, the foundation's PR director, asked.

Seren adjusted a place card by half an inch.

"I used to work events."

"Events?"

"Fashion. Luxury launches. A little branding."

Maya blinked.

"That's not 'a little.'"

Across the ballroom, Adrian was watching her.

Again.

Seren pretended not to notice.

Then Vanessa decided to remind everyone what Seren was now.

A woman in silver approached with an empty champagne flute.

Vanessa intercepted her.

"Oh, Seren?"

Her voice carried just far enough.

"Would you mind finding Mrs. Caldwell another glass?"

Several heads turned.

Seren felt the old humiliation burn up her neck.

There it was.

The line Vanessa wanted drawn.

Guest.

Staff.

Blackwood.

Nanny.

Seren reached for the glass.

Then someone behind her gasped.

"My God."

Seren froze.

A woman in her late fifties stood ten feet away.

Silver-blond hair swept into an elegant knot. Architectural black gown. Red lipstick. The kind of presence that made a room unconsciously reorganize itself around her.

Seren knew that face.

Everyone in fashion knew that face.

Celeste Laurent.

Her former mentor stared at her as though she'd seen a ghost.

"Seren Marlowe?"

The champagne glass nearly slipped from Seren's fingers.

"Celeste."

Celeste crossed the room.

And, in front of everyone, wrapped Seren in both arms.

"Where the hell have you been?"

The ballroom went silent.

Vanessa's smile disappeared.

Seren couldn't breathe.

Celeste pulled back and held her by the shoulders.

"Five years. Five years, and not one phone call."

"I know."

"You vanished."

"I know."

"I had editors asking about you. Buyers asking about you. I had Bergdorf calling me because they wanted that collection."

Seren swallowed.

"Celeste—"

"You were twenty-two years old and terrifyingly talented."

A few nearby guests turned fully toward them.

Someone whispered Seren's name.

Vanessa looked between them.

Confusion first.

Then disbelief.

"You know her?"

Celeste finally seemed to notice Vanessa.

"Of course I know her."

Her gaze returned immediately to Seren.

"She was one of the best young designers I had seen in a decade."

Vanessa went quiet.

For once, completely quiet.

Seren should have enjoyed it.

Instead, her chest hurt.

Because across the ballroom, Adrian was no longer looking at her like a man who wanted her.

He was looking at her like a man realizing he had never known her at all.

"You were a designer?" he asked later.

They stood near the terrace doors while the quartet played behind them.

Seren kept her eyes on the garden.

"I was trying to be."

"Celeste Laurent doesn't sound like she thought you were trying."

"Celeste exaggerates."

"She told Maya you had an offer in Paris."

Seren's fingers tightened around her glass.

Of course she had.

Adrian's voice dropped.

"Why didn't you go?"

She laughed once.

There was no humor in it.

"Life happened."

"What life?"

"Mine."

"Seren."

She turned toward him.

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Look at me like I've become some tragedy you need to solve."

His jaw tightened.

"That's not what I'm doing."

"It looks like it."

"I'm trying to understand."

"You don't get to understand everything."

His eyes darkened.

"Why did you give it up?"

The question hit too close.

Because I was pregnant.

Because I was twenty-two and terrified.

Because I called you.

Because no one let me reach you.

Because I had a baby who needed diapers more than I needed Paris.

Seren looked away.

"I had someone else to take care of."

Adrian went completely still.

Across the room, Kai was showing Poppy how to balance two dessert spoons on his nose.

Adrian followed Seren's gaze.

His expression changed.

"Kai."

She said nothing.

"You gave it up for him."

"He needed me."

"And what did you need?"

The question hurt more than it had any right to.

Seren looked back at him.

"No one asked."

For several seconds, Adrian said nothing.

Then applause broke out behind them.

The quartet had changed songs.

Vanessa appeared at Adrian's side.

Perfect again.

Composed again.

"Adrian, they're ready for the opening dance."

Seren stepped back.

Of course.

There was always a Vanessa.

Always a woman who belonged in his world.

Vanessa slipped her hand through Adrian's arm.

"Come on."

But Adrian didn't move.

His eyes remained on Seren.

"Adrian?"

Vanessa's smile faltered.

He gently removed her hand.

Then he stepped toward Seren.

The room seemed to notice.

One conversation stopped.

Then another.

Seren's heartbeat became embarrassingly loud.

"What are you doing?"

Adrian held out his hand.

"Dance with me."

Her breath caught.

Vanessa went white.

"Adrian."

He didn't even look at her.

Seren stared at his hand.

"I'm your nanny."

"No."

His eyes lifted to hers.

"You're Poppy's nanny."

A dangerous warmth moved through her chest.

"That distinction isn't helping."

"It wasn't meant to."

"People are watching."

"Let them."

Vanessa spoke behind him.

"This is inappropriate."

Adrian finally glanced back.

"Then don't watch."

Someone nearby choked on a laugh.

Seren should have refused.

She knew that.

Instead, she placed her hand in his.

Adrian's fingers closed around hers.

Warm.

Certain.

Possessive enough to make her pulse jump.

He led her onto the floor.

The crowd opened for them.

And for the first time since she'd entered Blackwood House, Seren did not feel like hired help.

She felt seen.

Adrian's hand settled at her waist.

"You never told me," he said.

"You never asked."

"I would have."

"Five years ago?"

His expression tightened.

"Yes."

She looked up at him.

"You don't know that."

"I know myself."

"No, Adrian."

Her voice softened.

"You know who you were allowed to be."

His step faltered.

Only once.

But Seren felt it.

"What does that mean?"

She immediately regretted saying it.

"Nothing."

"Seren."

"Enjoy the dance."

"Tell me."

His hand tightened slightly at her waist.

She looked over his shoulder.

And saw Margaret Blackwood standing in the ballroom doorway.

Adrian's mother had arrived without Seren noticing.

Elegant.

Silver-haired.

Perfectly composed.

Her gaze was fixed on Seren.

Not with surprise.

With recognition.

Seren stopped moving.

Adrian noticed.

"What is it?"

Margaret began walking toward them.

Five years disappeared in a single heartbeat.

Seren remembered unanswered calls.

Returned letters.

A receptionist saying Adrian was unavailable.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Margaret stopped at the edge of the dance floor.

Her face remained perfectly calm.

But Seren saw it.

Fear.

Just for a second.

Adrian followed her gaze.

"Mother?"

Margaret looked at Seren.

Then at Adrian's hand around her waist.

Her lips thinned.

"Adrian," she said coldly. "May I ask why the nanny is dancing with you?"

Seren felt Adrian go rigid.

Margaret's gaze dropped to Seren's dress.

Then back to her face.

"Staff," she added, "usually know which side of the room they belong on."

Adrian's hand slowly left Seren's waist.

For one terrible second, she thought he was stepping away from her.

Instead, he turned toward his mother.

His expression went cold.

Dangerously cold.

And when he spoke, the entire room heard him.

"Be very careful what you say next."