Redefining Love Series Book 1: Lost in Love
著者
Declan Rayne
閲覧数
849K
チャプター
60
Vienna trusts facts, formulas, and control—the kind you can measure. Dominic Blackwood is the variable she never planned for: powerful, patient, and persistent in a way that feels dangerous.
What starts as a spark ignites fast. Vienna resists with logic and caution. Dominic doesn’t force his way in—he earns it, inch by inch, until her walls start to cave.
Then one moment shatters everything.
And when Vienna’s world turns dark and the consequences get real, Dominic doesn’t disappear. He stays. He fights. He proves he doesn’t want a win.
He wants her.
Chapter 1
VIENNA
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and stepped onto the first stair.
I lifted my evening gown slightly, watching my feet as I climbed one step at a time, careful not to trip in the heels I shouldn’t be wearing but Bree had insisted on. My focus stayed fixed downward, like if I didn’t look up, I could pretend the room wasn’t full of people waiting for me.
When I reached the stage, I forced myself to lift my head.
Three men in suits stood there, watching.
My heart picked up as a tingle crept up the back of my neck. The man closest to me carried himself with an ease that made me feel even more out of place, his confidence quiet but impossible to ignore.
I took a step toward the podium—and my balance gave out beneath me.
I closed my eyes, bracing for impact.
Instead, strong, warm arms wrapped around me, stopping my fall before I hit the ground. When I opened my eyes, I found myself staring up into the palest blue eyes I’d ever seen.
Unable to tear my gaze away, I lingered in his embrace a moment longer than necessary before he pulled me upright so quickly I stumbled into his chest.
Held in his arms, the warmth was comforting in a way that felt both pleasant and unfamiliar. It stirred something in me I hadn’t felt in a long time, and part of me didn’t want him to let go.
He looked down at me, his gaze searching my face. “You okay?” he rasped.
I cleared my throat before answering. “Yes. Thanks.”
He released me, and I took a moment to steady myself before continuing across the stage. Heat crept into my cheeks, and I kept my eyes forward, unable to meet anyone’s gaze for more than a passing second.
When I reached our host, Dr. Templeton, head of Research and Grant Development at the Chemical Engineering Society, I extended my hand.
His hand enveloped mine in a strong, solid shake. “Congratulations, Vienna. Your department’s research on alternative fuel sources is unparalleled and groundbreaking. We hope this grant helps to fund and further your future efforts.”
“Thank you, Dr. Templeton.”
I took one edge of the certificate, and with our hands still clasped, we posed for pictures. The smile on my face felt nervous and slightly forced.
Crowds and attention were not my thing. I preferred dark corners where I could fade into the background, far from the spotlight.
Thankfully, accepting this award didn’t require a speech. If it had, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to come tonight.
After shaking the other two men’s hands—including the man who had saved me from face-planting in front of everyone—I made my way off the stage and back to the safety of my table.
Grateful that my time in the spotlight was over, I watched as the remaining grants were handed out.
After the awards were distributed, everyone shifted into mingling and conversation. I tried to calculate how long I needed to stay for it to be considered socially acceptable before leaving, but my strengths were in chemistry, not social situations.
My gaze drifted across the room, settling on the handsome man from the stage as I tried to recall his name. Unfortunately, they had introduced him and the other two men alongside Dr. Templeton through the haze of my anxiety, and I’d retained none of it.
I hovered near the balcony railing, cradling a ginger ale and hoping it might settle my twisted stomach as I scanned the crowd of rich and powerful professionals. The city skyline beyond them was stunning, but I felt like a misplaced square on the periodic table.
A deep voice behind me broke my concentration. “Enjoying the view or plotting your escape route?”
I turned to find those pale blue eyes on me, the polished man from the stage wearing a confident smirk. Good-looking and effortlessly charming, he was exactly the type of person I tried to avoid. I much preferred intellectual stimulation over physical.
Meeting his gaze, I deadpanned, “I’m just running some calculations on how fast I can evaporate.”
He laughed, warm and genuine. “Evaporate, huh? That’s a new one. Most people just fake a phone call. At least that’s what I do.”
I shifted so we were facing each other. “Phone calls require acting skills. I’m more of a chemical reaction…give me the right conditions, and I disappear on my own.”
“So what are the right conditions for you to stay?” he asked, leaning in slightly as he lowered his voice. “Less small talk, more booze?”
My palms began to sweat, my stomach tightening with nervous anxiety. Why was he talking to me? He should be across the room, mingling with the other wealthy men and the supermodel women with their plastic surgery punch cards.
I eased back just enough to take a steady breath. “Maybe less pressure. Or a catalyst—preferably in the form of chocolate or a good book.” I slipped my hand into my purse and pulled out a worn novel.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he glanced at the book before I tucked it back into my bag. “You carry a book with you everywhere?” he asked, gesturing toward my purse.
“Rarely leave home without one.” I shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
“Interesting.” He took a sip of the amber liquid in his glass. “I’m more of a coffee or scotch kind of guy, but I get it. Sometimes these events feel like mixing oil and water.”
I nodded, letting a small breath slip out as the conversation stalled. “Yeah…they do.”
I turned, starting back toward the main room.
He reached out and gently caught my arm.
His grip loosened almost immediately, but he didn’t let go. “Want to join me in faking a phone call later?”
I took a step back, debating whether to keep talking to him or find somewhere else to hide until I could leave. “I prefer more creative exits. Like spontaneous combustion.”
He chuckled and stepped closer. “Dangerous, but memorable. I admire the commitment.” He reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.
The touch was soft and careful, but it sent heat skimming across my skin, making me shift under it. He had just the right mix of arrogance and charm to put him firmly in the category of off-limits.
If I wasn’t careful, I really might combust.
“At least it’s honest,” I snapped, a little sharper than I intended.
The truth was, I needed to get away from him. He hadn’t given me a reason to think he was anything but genuine, but my insecurities sat just beneath the surface, ready to drag up the past.
He was attractive, smooth-talking, and could easily charm the socks—or panties—off anyone, and that was not what I was here for tonight.
“I get it. These things can be a lot.” He swept his arm out, indicating the party around us. “I’m only comfortable with them because I’ve had a lot of practice.”
I lifted an eyebrow, studying him. “Practice charming strangers?”
“Practice surviving in situations where I don’t really fit in. I built engines before I built empires. I’m more grease than cufflinks.”
My brows drew together as I tried to place him. Clearly someone important, given he’d been on stage with Dr. Templeton.
“What do you do?”
He leaned back against the railing and took a sip of his drink before answering. “A lot of things. I got my start in the auto mechanic industry, then moved into car rental and auto sales.”
“Interesting. Yet you support my research.” I tilted my head, watching him more closely.
He stroked his chin, nodding. “Of course. I’m one of the top sponsors of the grant. Your research will impact my business, but I support what’s best for the environment.”
“That doesn’t bother you?” I asked, surprised by how easygoing he seemed. For a moment, I felt my walls shift before I forced them back into place.
“For every constant, there’s a variable. That variable is you.” A smirk tugged at his mouth, equal parts dangerous and intriguing.
I nodded, keeping my focus firmly on his face. “Not bad. Most people just ask what I do, then find an excuse to leave—or pretend to understand.”
He didn’t bother hiding it as his gaze dipped down my body before returning to my face. Heat crept into my cheeks under the weight of it.
“I don’t have a fancy degree, but I built my first engine in a garage. After all, chemistry is the reason fuel burns, right?”
It took me a second to find my voice, and when I did, it came out softer than I intended. “Exactly. And sometimes the right spark changes everything.”
He held my gaze a moment longer, like he was considering something, and I had the distinct feeling this wouldn’t be the last time we’d meet.
Usually, I’d forget people from nights like this. But something about him stayed with me longer than it should have.
And I had a feeling it was going to be a problem.
