His

Chapter 1

The sun blazes over the pool, the air shimmering with the scent of chlorine and sizzling meat on the grill. My mother is flitting about, her voice sharp with passive-aggressive directions to the caterers. "Addy, straighten your dress! You look like you just rolled out of bed."

I grit my teeth and adjust the straps of my sundress. It’s pale yellow, the one she picked out, because God forbid I dress myself for once. It clings too tightly at the waist, a little too short to feel like me, but it’s easier to give in than to argue. The heels she forced on me are already digging into my skin, and I long to kick them off and jump into the cool water.

My brother, Evan, is lounging by the bar, his perpetual smirk firmly in place. He’s drinking something amber and far too expensive for a Sunday afternoon. "Lighten up, Addy," he drawls when I pass him. "It’s a party, not a funeral."

“Feels the same,” I mutter, brushing past him.

And then I see him.

He’s standing near the deep end of the pool, a glass of something dark in his hand. He doesn’t belong here. It’s obvious in the way he holds himself, like the party is beneath him, but he’s graciously tolerating it for now.

His dark hair is pushed back, damp from the water, and it gleams like black silk in the sun. His shoulders are broad, tapering into a lean, muscled frame. He’s wearing a white button-down, unbuttoned just enough to reveal the bronzed skin of his chest, and tailored black slacks that somehow make him look more dangerous than formal.

I can't look away. His presence feels like a disturbance, a crack in the polished facade of this party, of my life.

He notices me, of course. His eyes—piercing gray, like smoke over steel—lock onto mine, and I swear the world tilts. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t nod. He just watches me the way a predator might observe its prey.

“Who’s that?” I murmur, leaning toward my cousin Ava, who’s beside me, giggling over her phone.

She glances up and follows my gaze. “Oh, that’s Karter. He’s, uh… my dad’s business partner or something. New money.” She shrugs, clearly unimpressed.

New money or not, he doesn’t look like anyone’s partner. He looks like he runs the show.

I’m still staring when he moves, cutting through the crowd with effortless precision, heading straight for me. My heart stumbles, and for a second, I think about bolting.

But I don’t.

“Addy,” he says, and his voice is low, smooth, with an edge that makes my skin prickle. He already knows my name. Of course he does.

“And you are?” I manage, even as my voice wavers. “Karter,” he replies, offering his hand. His grip is firm, his touch warm, and when his thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, I swear I feel it all the way down to my core.

“Nice to meet you, Karter.” I say, trying to sound composed.

“Likewise.” His lips quirk into something that isn’t quite a smile. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

My stomach tightens. From who? And what, exactly, has he heard?

“Addy!” My mother’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade, and I flinch. “Stop standing there like a statue and help with the drinks.”

Karter's eyes flick to her, then back to me. He raises an eyebrow, silently questioning, but I just shake my head.

“Excuse me,” I mutter, retreating toward the bar before I say something I’ll regret.