Ashton’s brows were drawn tight, his expression dark. “Don’t you owe me an explanation for why you’re here with him?” His voice was low and strained, thick with barely contained anger.

“And what about you? Care to explain why you were with Genevieve here? And why you keep protecting her, over and over?”

Ashton looked at me as though I was being unreasonable. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Have this conversation.”

“Why not?”

“Fine. I don’t like you spending time with Rhys.”

“Well, I don’t like you spending time with Genevieve,” I shot back, just as seriously.

“I’ll do my best not to see her from now on,” Ashton said without hesitation.

His response took me by surprise. I hadn’t expected him to say that.

But soon, a cynical laugh escaped me. “Am I supposed to believe you? You promised me before that if she ever hurt me, you’d do something about it. But did you? Don’t make me laugh. So that’s what this is about? You’re still mad at me, so you came here with Rhys?”

“I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed,” I said, and I let him see it in my eyes. “I’ll make it right.”

“Will you, really?”

If he wouldn’t even punish Genevieve for pushing me into the lake and nearly killing me, what justice could he possibly give me? I didn’t know why I was still holding out hope.

I stood up and turned to leave, but Ashton grabbed my wrist. “Are you going back to him?”

“I need to use the toilet,” I said flatly.

Ashton followed me all the way to the ladies’ room entrance. I looked at him.

“Coming in?”

He’d thought I was making an excuse, and now he looked slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll wait here.”

I didn’t answer, just gave him a look and went inside.

When I came out, Ashton said, “Naomi says she misses you. She’d like you to go over and chat with her.”

“Fine.”

By the time we returned to the function room, the atmosphere had shifted. The music had stopped, and people were murmuring uneasily. Something had happened.

“What’s going on?” Ashton asked, frowning as he approached Ryan and Cassian.

“Something’s been stolen,” Cassian said, his own expression tense.

“One of the exhibition pieces is missing—the red ruby, the most valuable one. It’s estimated to be worth at least a billion,” Ryan explained.

“Missing? How?” Ashton asked.

“That’s the host over there, the owner of the ruby,” Ryan said quietly.

A tuxedoed man approached with two bodyguards, his face grim.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but could you please open your bag for inspection? Someone has reported seeing you take our property,” the assistant beside the tuxedoed man said to me with a tone of forced politeness.

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