Page 231 of Terms of Exposure
I followed her through the maze of tables, retracing the path I'd walked before. Past couples leaning close over wine glasses. Past the low murmur of conversation and the clink of silverware. Past the life happening all around me while anticipation thrummed low in my belly.
Holt, party of two.
Not Read. Not a stranger hiding behind a screen.
Holt.
Thename I would—
I stopped the thought before it could finish. Too soon. Too presumptuous. We were celebrating tonight, not—
The hostess paused at the entrance to the alcove.
The same alcove.
The very corner where I'd sat alone, smoothing my dress, checking my phone, counting the seconds until a man I'd never met walked around that corner and changed my life.
"Here we are," she said, stepping aside.
The world fell away.
Flowers.
Thousands of flowers.
They cascaded from every surface—roses and peonies and gardenias spilling from urns on the floor, climbing up trellises that hadn't been there before, draping from the ceiling in ribbons of white and blush and deep, romantic red. Petals scattered across the floor like snow.
Candles flickered everywhere—tea lights nestled among the blooms, pillar candles glowing on stands, the warm light turning the alcove into something from a dream.
Something too beautiful to believe.
And in the center of it all—
Damien.
He stood beside a table set for two, dressed in a dark suit. In his hands, he held a bouquet.
Orchids and peonies, tied with silver ribbon. A small card was tucked among the stems, words written in Damien's looping script.
My hands flew to my mouth.
"Damien." His name came out broken between my fingers. "What is this?"
He closed the few feet between us, petals crushing softly beneath his shoes. The scent of his cologne—Solar Blaze, leather and citrus—wrapped around me, warm and familiar.
"This," he said quietly, "is me doing what I should have done the first time you walked into this room."
He extended the bouquet toward me.
My hands trembled as I took it.
"Read the card," he instructed.
For you. Then, now, and always.—D
"The first time you came here," Damien said, his voice low and rough, "you were meeting a stranger. A man who'd lied to you. Who'd manipulated circumstances to get close to you." His voice shook. "You deserved so much better than what I gave you that night."
"Damien—"
