Chapter 1 The Kiss That Changed Everything

The splendor of Manhattan's elite was reflected in each crystal chandelier as the huge ballroom glistened under a thousand golden lights. Regret and champagne were consuming Genevieve Montgomery. With a glass of glittering treachery in her quivering fingers, she stood at the edge of the party, dressed in a sapphire gown that accentuated every curve. Expensive fragrance and the aroma of roses filled the air, and the sound of laughter served as a harsh reminder of her purpose. Christian Alden, the man who had whispered promises on her skin and broken them in the same breath, was standing in the middle of the room. He raised a glass, his flawless teeth gleaming in the golden light of the ballroom. "To my soulmate," he declared, his voice rising above the tunes. The audience exploded in cheers, sending a swarm of good wishes to her old best friend, Delilah Wainwright. A rib-piercing dagger would have caused less pain. Genevieve's breath caught when she saw Delilah's diamond ring, which Christian once said should be on her own finger, and her eyesight became blurry. She refused to give in to the bitter, unforgiving sting of betrayal. Rather, her smile was the type that concealed the destruction that lay beneath it. She might as well wreck her life in style if she was going to do it. Genevieve drained her glass in a single, defiant swallow and tilted it back. Then she sensed his presence. Something grim, imposing, unaffected by the celebrations surrounding them. When she turned, he was there. An unknown individual dressed in black. Tall and broad-shouldered, he radiated the kind of menace that made spines stiffen and heartbeats quicken. His raven hair, tangled with just enough recklessness to suggest unbridled force, shaded his keen jaw with a hint of stubble. Her breath was frozen by his eyes, which were obsidian depths that pierced through her as if he already knew every secret she suffered for. The room dimmed. It didn't matter what the music, the sorrow, or the betrayal was. His eyes locked with hers, unreadable. Unforgiving. An invitation. An invitation. Genevieve felt her heart pound. She moved forward a step. For what reason does he cause her to forget why she came here? Who is he? As Genevieve walked toward the stranger, her heart thumping against her ribs, the silk of her robe murmured across marble. The way predators observe their prey before striking, he stayed motionless. She muttered, lifting her head in silent defiance, "I don't think we've met." His mouth curled into a sin, a warning, a sneer. "We haven't," There was something seductive and menacing in his deep voice, a sound that promised secrets best kept hidden. As soon as a new, slow, sensual song started, he took Genevieve's hand and led her into the dance floor before she could comprehend her own carelessness. Her breath caught. Something that had nothing to do with retaliation was sparked in her by his strong, possessive touch. The dance was a conflict masquerading as intimacy. He held her waist too tightly. He looked too knowingly at her lips. Genevieve gulped. "You have no place here." A giggle slipped across her body. “And you do?” She compelled herself to meet his eyes. "Once, I did." A shock of realization ran down her spine as his fingertips touched her naked back. "Not any more." There was no question in the words. The truth was in them. Something much more frightening than the betrayal that had brought her here, the humiliation of witnessing Christian toast to Delilah. She said in a whisper, "I don't even know your name." The smell of alcohol and winter air enveloped her as he drew in closer. "You don't have to." She felt something break inside. Grasping his lapels, Genevieve could feel his body heat beneath the clean suit material. Who he was didn't matter to her. didn't mind being observed in the room. In this moment, in his touch, in the fire searing under her skin, she only knew that she wanted to drown. She kissed him as a result. Did it start something much more harmful, or was it an error? The world slanted when their lips met. His mouth was like fire against hers, a burning, merciless tool. Not tender. Unafraid. His fingers gripped her waist tightly, drawing her in as though he were daring her to change her mind. Genevieve must have. The audience, the repercussions, and the fact that this was meant to be an act of defiance rather than a surrender should have all been considered. She didn't feel regret, though, when he pulled away and his breath warmed her lips. It was famine. He looked into her eyes, probing, evaluating. His jaw flexed a muscle. "The taste of you is anger." With difficulty, Genevieve swallowed and steadied herself. "You are troublesome to taste." His dark, knowing sneer reappeared. "Then we're a perfect fit." Through the stupor came the sound of a champagne glass breaking on stone. Genevieve turned, feeling a knot of fear in her stomach. Christian stood close to the bar, his engagement ring shining under the chandeliers, his face white with rage. The group murmured. So began the scandal. Heat was seeping up Genevieve's neck as her pulse thumped. A stranger had just been kissed by her. in the presence of the man who had deceived her. before the woman who took him. The stranger, too? His laughter at Christian was gradual and deliberate, as if he were aware that he had just sparked a conflict. The breath left Genevieve's mouth. Just what had she done? Was it only a kiss, or did something much more damaging start? Her breathing was shallower than it should have been, and Genevieve's heart thumped beneath her skin. Something irrational that had been imprisoned for too long was awakened by the stranger's body heat. Before she even considered it, she moved. A quick breath. Silk against a suit, brushed. Then, she smashed her mouth into his. The world became hazy as the moment's energy engulfed it. Fire and ice made up his lips; they were demanding and unforgiving without being mean. She was surrounded by the strong aroma of sandalwood and whiskey that permeated her senses. The stranger did not back off. He made no hesitation. Rather, he placed a warm, strong hand on the curve of her waist, possessive in a way that made her jump. He returned her kiss slowly at first, tasting and testing before committing. The way his body curled gently toward hers, as if instinct demanded they become closer, made Genevieve forget herself in the feel of him. However, he halted as abruptly as it had started. A whiff of air. Tension flickered in the air. His eyes met Genevieve's as her lashes fluttered open. cold blue eyes. Cold, cunning, but blazing with something he wouldn't say. He did not back off, but his hold relaxed. kept looking. A quiet, oppressive struggle of wills. He then grinned. A sluggish, astute creature. The sort of thing that gave cautions and chills. "Bold move," he said, his voice as silky as whiskey that has aged. "But I'm not one for second chances." A door slammed before she even realized what was behind it, and the words were a challenge. As reality hit her like a freight train, Genevieve's fingers twitched at the lapel of his jacket. The crowd's murmuring. Christian's angry stare was weighing heavily on her back. And this guy, this stranger whom she had just kissed as though she owned him, was staring at her as though she had just made him laugh. Her gut clenched up with something hot and humiliating. She raised her chin, and her shoulders straightened. "Who said that I desired one?" His eyes darkened and his smirk grew larger. "Nice girl." Genevieve gasped for air. He is who? Why does he feel indestructible, as though she kissed something much more hazardous than she thought? With what little of her poise she still had left, Genevieve turned. Christian observed. His mouth was a thin, skeptical line, his jaw was tense, and his hands were balled into fists. As if to remind him that she was now the one wearing his ring, Delilah shifted uneasily next to him and clutched his arm. Genevieve felt a terrible kind of delight pulsing through her veins. She had desired for him to watch her go on. had desired for him to experience even a small portion of the betrayal she had endured. She touched the stranger, but why did her hands still tingle? Christian said, "Genevieve," in a low, growling voice. She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Do you now recall my name? Christian's nostrils opened wide. When he stepped forward, the stranger, the man who had kissed her as if he already had a piece of her soul, surged ahead of him. One step. subtle. yet strong. A change in tension occurred. Christian was hesitant. Something instinctive, something that sensed a bigger danger between him and Genevieve, fought against his pride. With a low, knowing laugh, the stranger laughed. "Alden, you seem like you're about to speak. But I wouldn't. Under his fury, Christian's eyes flickered to astonishment as they snapped to him. Genevieve blinked with disbelief. How was the name of Christian known to this man? Regaining control of his look, Christian squared his shoulders. "I have no idea who in hell you think you are….." The outsider cocked his head. daring him. There was power in the air, and Genevieve sensed it. It was subtly oppressive. At last, the stranger said, "Silas Rockwell," in a humorous tone. "But you were aware of that beforehand, weren't you?" The name sounded like a bullet. Stillness. Then a whisper. From the guests in the vicinity, not from Christian. Genevieve stayed put. did not inhale. That name was familiar to her. In New York, everyone did. Kingmaker, multibillionaire investor, and the city's most untouchable guy is Silas Rockwell. Christian's face went a little whiter. It was his polished arrogance's first crack. Christian said, "You're Rockwell," in a deliberately bland tone. Silas gave a sly smile. "Well. The recognition is there. Genevieve's head was spinning. She'd just given Silas Rockwell a kiss. And he was now putting himself in her way, between her and Christian, as though he was determined to keep her. What is Silas seeking? Why does it feel like her life has completely changed?