I had been in Aziz Patel’s house for exactly one hour and twelve minutes when I decided that rich people must have a fundamentally different understanding of what constituted a reasonable amount of house.

I didn’t mean that in a bitter way.

Okay. Maybe a little bitter.

I stood near the edge of the massive living room, holding a champagne flute I hadn’t touched in the last fifteen minutes, and casually looked around the room for what had to be the hundredth time that evening.

The place was ridiculous. Aziz clearly had enough money that he didn’t need to prove he had money. That somehow made it worse.

The three-story house sat somewhere in Buckhead, tucked away behind a gate and surrounded by other homes that probably cost more than I would make in the next twenty years. From the moment Nathan and I had pulled into the driveway, I had tried not to visibly stare.

I’d failed.

The exterior alone looked like something pulled from an architecture magazine. It had modern stonework, enormous windows, and carefully designed landscaping illuminated by subtle ground lighting. Inside, the house opened into an enormous living room with high ceilings and enough space for at least fifty people to comfortably mingle without anyone feeling crowded.

The living room connected directly into a kitchen that was bigger than my entire first apartment. There was a massive marble island surrounded by people drinking cocktails and laughing. Beyond that was a dining room that flowed into a smaller, more intimate living area toward the back of the house. Off to the side sat a home office behind partially closed double doors.

I had peeked inside earlier. Of course, Aziz had an office nicer than most actual offices. The entire place screamed successful. Apparently, being a commercial real estate agent in Atlanta could pay pretty damn well if you were good enough at it.

“Wait, wait. You seriously said that?” The woman standing beside me stared at me with wide eyes.

I smiled. “I swear. That’s literally what I said.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

She laughed and covered her mouth. “Lauren, I would have died.”

“You would not have died.”

“I would have spiritually left my body.”

“Okay,” I conceded, taking a small sip from my champagne. “That’s possible.”

Her name was Lily, and despite having met her less than forty minutes earlier, I had quickly decided she was one of the easier people at the party to talk to.

That was fortunate. Besides Nathan, I barely knew anyone there.

A few of the guys scattered throughout the house were names I recognized from Nathan’s stories. I’d heard enough about Aziz, Marcus, Devin, and a handful of others over the past few weeks to feel like I knew the basic outlines of their personalities without ever actually meeting them.

Aziz was the successful friend. Marcus was apparently the perpetually single friend who had a new dating disaster every other week. Devin was married and supposedly the “responsible one,” which Nathan had explained while laughing in a way that suggested Devin wasn’t nearly as responsible as he claimed to be.

The rest of the people filling the house were strangers. Some were friends. Some were coworkers. Some looked like they had probably met Aziz twice but received an invitation because Aziz seemed like the type of person who collected acquaintances.

The dress code for the evening had been simple.

Dress to impress.

I had. Obviously. I’d spent far too much time getting ready to pretend otherwise.

My black dress was sleeveless, tight, and short enough to stop around mid-thigh. It wasn’t particularly complicated, but I knew exactly what I was doing when I bought it. The dress accentuated my figure without looking like I was going to a nightclub, and paired with my black patent leather pumps, I thought the overall look landed somewhere between elegant and dangerous.

At least, that was the intention.

The twelve-centimeter stilettos were absolutely fucking brutal, though. Nobody ever talked about that part when they complimented an outfit.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my heels. The confidence I feel while wearing them usually makes up for the discomfort.

Still, it would be nice to hear, “Oh my God, those shoes are gorgeous!” every once in a while.

I had freshly done red acrylic nails, almond-shaped and slightly longer than I usually wore them. My makeup had taken almost an hour because I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to go softer or more dramatic before ultimately deciding that dramatic was more appropriate for a Buckhead mansion full of strangers.

Bright red lipstick. Light brown eyeshadow. Dark eyeliner. Everything blended exactly the way I wanted.

My long blonde hair had been freshly done earlier that afternoon and fell over my shoulders and down my back in loose, soft waves.

I knew I looked good.

That wasn’t arrogance. It was simply the result of having spent nearly a decade learning what worked for me.

There was also a strange irony in spending so much time helping other women feel confident about their appearance while occasionally questioning every minor detail about my own.

I did makeup tutorials for hundreds of thousands of people online. I had over two hundred thousand followers. That number still occasionally felt surreal to me.

During the day, I was Lauren Tulanski, Marketing Coordinator at Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta. I attended meetings, answered emails, coordinated campaigns, worked with different teams, and spent my weekdays living what most people would probably consider a perfectly normal professional life.

Then I went home and became someone else. Well, not someone else exactly. More like a slightly more polished version of myself.

I filmed makeup tutorials. Fashion videos. Outfit combinations. “What to Wear” recommendations for dates, interviews, parties, weddings, vacations, and whatever other situations people apparently needed help dressing for.

One of my most popular videos was called Five Outfit Mistakes You’re Making on a First Date.

Lily had recognized me because of that video. Which was still weird. Not bad weird. Just weird.

“You know,” Lily said, tilting her head slightly, “I still can’t believe you’re actually the Lauren from TikTok.”

I groaned playfully. “Please don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a celebrity.”

“You kind of are.”

“I have two hundred thousand followers. There are people on that app with twelve million followers who are probably filming themselves eating cereal right now.”

Lily laughed. “Still. I watched your first-date video before my date with Connor.”

My eyes widened. “Wait. Connor?”

“Yes.”

“The Connor you’re here with?”

She nodded.

I looked across the room toward a tall guy talking animatedly with two other men.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Did it work?”

She smiled. “Considering we’ve been together for eight months...”

I pointed at her. “Then I am taking partial credit.”

She laughed again. “I knew you’d say that.”

I liked Lily. She had an easy personality, and more importantly, she didn’t seem interested in interrogating me about my relationship with Nathan. That had become increasingly annoying over the last couple of weeks.

Jesus Christ. I’d known the man for a month. People needed to calm the fuck down.

Nathan and I had met through a mutual friend during a night out in Midtown. He had unexpectedly joined a group of us at a bar, immediately making his presence known within approximately three minutes.

That was Nathan. He was outgoing. Very outgoing. Sometimes overwhelmingly outgoing. My first impression of him had been that he was one of those people who genuinely believed silence was a personal enemy.

He talked to everyone. He told stories with his entire body. He laughed loudly. He had an opinion about almost everything. At first, I found him exhausting. Then, somewhere around the second hour of that evening, I started finding him entertaining.

By the end of the night, we’d exchanged numbers. A few days later, we’d gone out. Then again. And again.

About a week after meeting, we’d officially started dating. Nathan was nice. He was fun. He made me laugh. He also seemed genuinely interested in me rather than simply interested in telling me about himself, which had surprised me.

Still ... I wasn’t sure. Not about him. Not yet. There were things about Nathan that bothered me. Nothing dramatic. Nothing that made me think he was secretly an asshole or a terrible person. Our views on certain social and political issues simply didn’t always align.

Sometimes we would be talking about something happening in the country, and he’d casually say something that made me internally pause.

Really? That’s how you see that?

We hadn’t had any explosive arguments. I wasn’t about to turn every disagreement into a relationship-ending debate. People were allowed to think differently.

Still, compatibility mattered. At least it did to me.

For now, I was trying to focus on what was good. The relationship was new. Nathan was good to me. We had fun together. There was no reason to immediately start mentally planning our hypothetical breakup because he had a few opinions I found questionable.

I was trying to be normal about it. ‘Trying’ being the operative word.

“Lauren?”

I blinked. “Sorry. What?”

Lily raised an eyebrow. “You completely disappeared for a second.”

“Did I?”

“Yes.”

I smiled sheepishly. “My brain does that sometimes.”

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.”

That was a lie.

Before Lily could question me further, movement from across the room caught my attention.

Not because someone had shouted.

Not because something had fallen.

Nothing dramatic.

Someone had simply walked into my line of sight.

My eyes drifted toward the kitchen. And stopped.

There was a man standing near the far end of the marble island. He had his back partially turned toward me as he reached for a bottle. Someone nearby said something to him, and he glanced in their direction with a brief smile before pouring himself a drink.

I didn’t know him. That much was obvious. I would have remembered him.

He was tall. Probably around six foot one, maybe a little taller. He was a Black man with a caramel-colored complexion. He had closely cropped black hair styled into a clean temp fade. A shallow connecting beard traced along his jawline and around his mouth, neat enough to look intentional without appearing overly groomed.

He looked somewhere around thirty. Maybe twenty-eight. Maybe thirty-one. It was difficult to tell from across the room.

He wore a short-sleeved black polo-style golf shirt, untucked over fitted dark blue jeans. The shirt wasn’t tight, but it was fitted enough that I could clearly see the athletic build underneath it.

Broad shoulders. Strong arms. A naturally solid frame. An Apple Watch sat around his wrist. A bronze-colored chain rested against the collar of his shirt. His shoes were impossible to miss. Black and gold Nike sneakers that somehow worked with the rest of the outfit.

I stared. Not blatantly. At least I hoped not. But I stared long enough for my brain to abruptly realize what I was doing.

Jesus Christ, Lauren.

I immediately looked back at Lily.

“And then she actually told me—”

I stopped. I had absolutely no idea what Lily had been talking about.

Fuck.

Lily looked at me. I smiled. A little too brightly.

“Sorry. Continue.”

She stared at me for a second. Then a knowing smile slowly spread across her face. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“You were looking at someone.”

My face immediately warmed. “I was not.”

“Lauren.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Okay.”

“I wasn’t.”

Lily took a slow sip from her drink.

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing where you’re pretending you believe me.”

She laughed. “I’m not judging you.”

“There’s nothing to judge.”

“Of course.”

I exhaled. “You’re annoying.”

“You’ve known me for forty minutes.”

“And somehow you’ve already become annoying.”

She smiled triumphantly. “I have that effect on people.”

Before I could respond, someone from across the room called her name. Lily turned toward the voice. A woman had just entered the living room accompanied by another couple.

Lily’s entire face lit up. “Oh my God!”

She looked back at me. “That’s my friend, Jessica. I haven’t seen her in forever.”

“Go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Go see your friend.”

She hesitated. “I’ll come find you.”

“I’ll be here.”

Lily gave my arm a quick squeeze before weaving her way through the crowd toward the front entrance.

And suddenly ... I was alone. Not actually alone. There were probably forty people in the house.

Music played softly through hidden speakers. Conversations overlapped throughout the massive living room. Someone laughed loudly near the dining room. Ice clinked against glass in the kitchen.

Nathan was somewhere nearby. I had seen him twenty minutes earlier talking to Aziz and another group of guys.

But at that particular moment, I stood by myself. Which meant I had absolutely no excuse not to look again.

I didn’t immediately turn toward the kitchen. That would have been too obvious.

Instead, I took a sip from my champagne. Looked toward the fireplace. Observed a painting hanging above it. Waited three seconds. Then casually shifted my eyes across the room.

There he was. Still standing near the kitchen counter. This time, he was leaning slightly against the marble island with his drink in one hand while listening to another man speak.

I wondered if Nathan knew him. That thought had been nagging at me since I first noticed him.

Nathan had talked about so many people over the last month that it was entirely possible this was one of his friends I’d simply never heard enough about to remember.

Or maybe he was Aziz’s friend. A coworker. A client. Someone’s boyfriend.

I looked down at my drink.