The Hartwell Foundation event was not a gala.
It was a battlefield with wine pairings.
Mira knew it the moment they stepped through the doors. The space was a converted museum hall: white walls, modern art, donors drifting like predators in couture. Cameras weren’t supposed to be there—“private event”—but phones existed, and so did reputations.
Theo didn’t just arrive with Mira.
He arrived with intention.
His hand stayed at her back as they moved through the room. Not possessive. Protective. A constant point of contact that said: if you want her, you go through me.
People approached in waves.
Some with genuine curiosity. Some with opportunism. Some with hunger for gossip.
Theo handled them with practiced ease—short answers, controlled smiles, introductions that placed Mira exactly where he wanted her: close, acknowledged, respected.
“This is Mira,” he’d say. “She’s brilliant.”
He didn’t say it like a compliment.
He said it like a fact.
Mira found herself standing taller, speaking more, letting her mind—her actual mind—be what people saw instead of the story Ethan was trying to sell.
Then she saw him across the room.
Ethan.
He stood near a donor wall, laughing too loudly at someone’s joke, eyes scanning—searching.
When he found Mira, his smile froze.
Theo noticed instantly.
Theo’s hand tightened slightly at Mira’s back, then relaxed. “He’s here,” he murmured near her ear.
Mira swallowed. “I see him.”
Theo’s gaze stayed forward, but his voice lowered. “Do you want to leave?”
Mira’s stomach clenched.
Then she shook her head. “No.”
Theo’s mouth curved faintly. “Good.”
They didn’t approach Ethan.
They didn’t need to.
The room did what rooms like this always did: it reorganized around power.
And Theo Reyes was gravity.
Ethan tried to drift closer anyway—angled conversations, casual steps, manufactured coincidence.
Each time, someone intercepted him. A board member. A donor. A man Theo greeted with quiet warmth while Ethan hovered, invisible.
Mira watched Ethan’s frustration build, saw it in the tightening around his eyes, the forced brightness of his grin.
He finally made his move when Mira stepped away toward the bar for water.
Theo was momentarily engaged—cornered by a senator’s spouse.
Mira felt the shift before Ethan spoke. The air changed.
“Hi, Mira.”
She turned slowly.
Ethan stood too close. His smile was practiced. His eyes were not.
Mira kept her voice level. “You’re not supposed to contact me.”
Ethan shrugged lightly. “I’m not contacting you. I’m speaking in public.”
Mira’s stomach tightened. “What do you want?”
Ethan leaned in, lowering his voice. “To remind you what happens when you play out of your league.”
Mira’s jaw clenched. “You mean when I leave you.”
Ethan’s smile tightened. “You think Theo’s going to keep you once the novelty wears off?”
Mira didn’t answer.
Ethan’s gaze dropped, then lifted again, cruel. “Did he ask you to sign something? Pay you? Of course he did. That’s who he is. And you—”
Mira cut him off, voice cold. “Don’t.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed. “Or what?”
Mira leaned slightly closer, matching his volume. “Or you keep proving to everyone in this room that you’re obsessed with a woman who doesn’t want you.”
Ethan’s smile twitched. “I can send that report with one click.”
Mira’s blood went cold. “You already tried.”
Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “And it didn’t land because your billionaire played hero.”
Mira’s voice stayed steady even as her pulse hammered. “He didn’t play. He chose.”
Ethan’s gaze flicked past her shoulder—tracking Theo’s approach.
Ethan smiled again, sweet as poison. “We’ll see.”
Then Theo was there—close enough that Mira felt his presence like a wall.
Theo’s voice was calm. “Ethan.”
Ethan straightened, grin widening. “Theo. Great post.”
Theo didn’t smile. “Harassing my girlfriend is a mistake.”
Ethan’s eyes glittered. “Your girlfriend.”
Theo’s hand slid to Mira’s waist, fingers warm. “Yes.”
Ethan chuckled. “Enjoy it. Some of us remember what she’s like when she’s desperate.”
Mira flinched before she could stop it.
Theo noticed.
His gaze went lethal.
He spoke softly, so only Ethan could hear. “Say one more thing about her and I will dismantle you in ways you can’t predict.”
Ethan’s smile faltered.
Theo continued, tone still calm. “You’ve already left a trail. Messages. Forgeries. Interference. You think you’re clever. You’re just documented.”
Ethan swallowed, then forced his grin back. “You don’t scare me.”
Theo’s eyes held his. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to educate you.”
Ethan’s expression tightened.
Theo’s voice dropped further. “You don’t get her anymore. Not her attention. Not her fear. And if you try to take it, you’ll learn what happens when you touch something I care about.”
The last phrase landed like a confession disguised as threat.
Ethan’s eyes flicked to Mira. For a second, something like realization crossed his face—then resentment.
He stepped back, smile brittle. “Have a lovely night.”
He vanished into the crowd.
Mira exhaled shakily.
Theo turned to her immediately, scanning her face. “Are you okay?”
Mira nodded, though her hands trembled. “He—he said—”
Theo’s hand tightened at her waist. “You don’t have to repeat it.”
Mira swallowed. “I’m so tired of him living in my head.”
Theo’s gaze softened. “Then let me crowd him out.”
Mira looked up at him, pulse stumbling at the low intimacy of that.
Theo leaned in, and for the room—just for a second—there was no audience, no strategy.
His mouth brushed hers, brief but real.
When he pulled back, his voice was quiet. “You’re doing beautifully.”
Mira’s eyes stung. She blinked hard. “Don’t.”
Theo’s mouth curved faintly. “I mean it.”
And Mira realized the bold public move hadn’t just protected her.
It had made lying harder.
---