Suddenly, the door to the dressing room swung open, and Clara stood in the hall. Leydon lifted his head, and the siblings stared at each other in silence. Clara's cheeks flushed, and Leydon's jaw clenched, and then Leydon turned on his heel and disappeared down the long hall.

"Let's go," Sean whispered.

​​

Catherine allowed him to lead her down the hall back toward the main gallery. In the space of a few minutes, the runway had been taken down, and deep house music thumped throughout the room. Models, designers, celebrities, and socialites mingled in the dim room—illuminated by the pulsing blue lights that flashed overhead. Overwhelmed, Catherine looked around the room.

In the far corner, she saw a tall man with golden blonde hair. Her heart froze in her chest—it looked exactly like the man who had saved her in the alley. He disappeared in the crowd, and she swung her head around, looking for him. As the lights flashed, she was sure she saw his golden hair again.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked.

"I'm looking for a restroom," she said.

"There's one on the other side of the room," he said. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No, stay here and enjoy the party," she said.

Quickly she pushed her way through the crowd, dodging partiers and servers alike. When she finally made it to the other side of the gallery, the mysterious, golden-haired man was gone. She sighed in frustration—once again, he'd disappeared.

A low voice sounded in her ear, "Looking for me?"

She turned and came face to face with the man who had saved her.

"It's really you," she said in surprise.

"What do you want?" he asked. "I thought I told you to leave me alone."

"Well, forgive me for being curious about the man who saved me," Catherine said, feeling stung.

"Why don't you just mind your own business?" the man snapped.

Catherine had to tilt her head back to stare at his face. His golden hair gleamed in the flashing lights, and his mouth was set in an arrogant expression. He glared down at her with ice in his eyes, and Catherine wanted to laugh. Compared to Sean, the strange man's arrogance was nothing.

"Well?" the man asked again. "Why don't you just mind your own business?"

"Because I don't like to be in anyone's debt," she replied. "You saved me from those disgusting thugs, and I owe you my life."

The man lifted one gracefully arched eyebrow. "You don't owe me anything," he finally said. "I don't expect the strays I rescue to pay me back."

"You asshole," Catherine hissed.

"I call it as I see it," the man said coolly. "You're the one who insists on following me around like a rescued puppy."

"I just wanted to thank you," she snapped. "But now I see you're not worth it."

"Oh, really?" the man smirked.

"Yes, really," she snapped.

"It seems to me you want something else from me," he said.

"I don't even know who you are," she replied. "Why would I want something from you?"

"Don't play innocent," he said. "I know when a woman is throwing herself at me."

"You think I'm throwing myself at you?" Catherine asked, balling her hands into fists. "Listen to me carefully—you're the last man in the world who could tempt me."

"I think you're protesting too much," the man said.

Catherine bit her tongue and fought the urge to slap him across his sneering face. She'd never met such a smug, self-confident man. He wasn't even half as handsome as Sean, but he acted like every woman in the world was obsessed with him.

"I'm married," she said.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first married woman to try to get me alone," he said.

"Listen, I don't know what type of women you've met, but I can promise you, I'm not like them," she said, feeling her cheeks flush with anger.

"That's what they all say," he said.

"Listen, I don't know why you seem to have such hatred towards women, but I can promise you, you won't ever have to deal with me anymore," she said, raising her voice. "If I ever have the misfortune to see you again, I'll pretend I haven't."

"Suits me," he said.

Digging her nails into her palm, she turned on her heel, ready to put as much distance between herself and the man as possible.

"Catherine, is that you?" a voice shouted.

Catherine scanned the crowd, and her heart sank—Iris and Pearl were walking towards her. Iris wore a pale pink, princess-cut gown, and her hair tumbled down her back in romantic curls. She looked girlish and childish. Pearl, on the other hand, looked like a femme fatale from an old Hollywood film. She wore a black velvet dress with a plunging neckline. The gown clung to her body, highlighting her hourglass figure. Her lips were painted a bold scarlet, and her eyes were smudged and smoky, and a teardrop-shaped diamond nestled between her breasts.

"What a surprise to see you out of the house," Catherine said. "I thought you were grounded."

"Well, you thought wrong," Iris sneered. "Sean wasn't serious about it—he'd never do that to me."

"He seemed pretty serious when he was screaming at you," she replied.

"Oh sure, he was in a temper for a while," Iris said with a wave of her hand. "But he quickly forgave me."

"Really?" Catherine asked. "How about I ask him to come over and join us then?"

Iris' eyes flashed with concern, "You mean he's here?"

"Of course he's here," Catherine said with a smile. "We've been having a lovely evening together."

"Oh, have you really?" Iris asked.

"Absolutely," Catherine said with a smile.

"If you're having such a nice evening with my brother, why are you sneaking around behind his back and talking to other men?" Iris asked.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"Oh, don't play innocent," Iris said. "I saw you are flirting with Ken—you're really shameless."

"You have no idea what you saw," Catherine snapped. "I didn't even know his name was Ken."

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Iris asked. "You know how rumors spread—so little basis in the truth. Tell me now, what do you think Sean will say when everyone at the party starts gossiping about you and Ken?"