First message
Grey had been at the party for nearly an hour, and already he was looking for an excuse to leave.
The mansion perched high above the city belonged to some award-winning actor whose name Grey could never remember. It was the kind of place celebrities loved—floor-to-ceiling glass windows, an infinity pool overlooking the skyline, music pulsing through hidden speakers, and enough famous faces crowded together to make tomorrow’s tabloids write themselves.
Normally, Grey thrived in chaos.
Tonight, he was bored.
A model had spent ten minutes talking about herself without taking a breath. His manager had already texted twice asking him not to start any fights.
He drained the rest of his drink and scanned the crowd.
That’s when he noticed her.
Standing near the pool beneath the glow of string lights, she seemed completely disconnected from everything around her.
She wasn’t chasing conversations.
Wasn’t lingering near the famous guests.
Wasn’t staring at him like half the women at the party had been since he arrived.
If anything, she looked unimpressed.
Maybe she was an actress. Maybe a singer. Somebody’s daughter. Somebody’s girlfriend. Yet the longer he studied her face, the more certain he became that he’d never seen her before.
Which made absolutely no sense.
Everyone here was somebody.
Curiosity got the better of him, and soon he was moving across the patio to get closer.
You know this is a closed party, right?