The air is too cold and biting, but I relish it. The sheer material that covers my arms does nothing to warm me, and goose-bumps rise over my bare back, but for all that, I still feel released from the smothering atmosphere in the hall. The sky is velvet blue-black. Not a single star keeps the lonely, half-moon that hovers over the luminous cityscape company. The only stars here are the glittering yellow lights of the city and the red blinking lights of distance radio towers.

Footsteps approach behind me, and I worry that I have to go back inside. To my relief, the stranger that stands next to me is Theo. I don't have to look to realize that—only his distinct scent is enough for me.
We silently stand side by side for a few minutes, leaning on the granite balcony railing as the graceful music from inside floats around us when a thought occurs to me.

"I've never seen a starry night," I announce softly.

"The city lights . . . The polluted air. I've only ever seen pictures. How sad is that?"

"Huh." The ghost of a smile makes its way on his lips. "We were in Montana this week. At a guest ranch. My dad always took us there when I was younger, but I don't remember a thing then. Only now, it might be my favorite place on Earth."

"Montana?"

"I know, sounds like a bore compared to New York. Maybe that's why I like it so much. It's just acres and acres of land and mountains under the starriest nights."

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He's leaning on his elbows, eyes distant over the city. The moonlight illuminates his face charmingly, and I realize that he's cleanly shaven for tonight. It highlights his strong jaw.

"Why'd you take me to your mother?"

"I didn't mean to, but she was bound to ask me about you. It was just better that we got it out of the way," he says. "And you're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Observing. Me. And you're trying not to make it obvious, but I don't think you realize just how not subtle you are."

I can't help but laugh at his knowing expression. "Subtlety is nothing more than pretty wrapping for the truth. It unnerves people. I like that."

He moves my curled hair to the side, revealing more of my bare back. It's a simple gesture, but I shiver under the brush of his fingers. "Like this subtle little python here?"

I bite my lips to hide a grin, but to no avail. "Madam Clé—Mrs. Roman's stylist almost fainted right then and there when I'd asked her for a backless dress. Especially after forcing her not to conceal my scar."

"I like it," he says vaguely, his lips quirking in a little smirk.

"Which part exactly?" I dare ask.

"All of it. The tattoo, the dress . . ." he trails on.

When I feel his stare on the side of my face for too long, I face him. He's never made me feel like my scar stood out until now, not like anyone else. People often steal glances when they think I'm not looking, trying not make it seem obvious. But around him, sometimes I forget it exists, and wonder if it's invisible to him. My cheeks flood with heat at the attention he loads my scar so heavily with.

He lifts his hand and trails my scar with the side of his forefinger, starting from its thin trail on my cheekbone, widening a little, and over my brow bone where a thin slit lies between hair. I follow the path his eyes take while every other inch of my body freezes under his soft touch. What is he thinking now?

"The scar, too. I like that the most." His voice is a whisper; a contrast to the whirlwind inside me.

Someone near the terrace door laughs a shrilling noise that reaches us. It breaks the silence, and I step back. Theo clears his throat.

"I'm sorry . . ." he starts. "Does it . . . What happened?

I give him a sure reassuring smile that tells him I don't mind speaking about the topic. "Some guy tried to touch me and when I started to run away, he had his way with a knife." I shrug.

"That explains why you're always in that wrestling gym," he says playfully.

"Hey! You only caught me once."

A knowing smile makes its way on his face. "Well . . ."

"Oh, my God," I gasp. "Do you go there and watch me without my knowing?" I shove him lightly, eliciting a deep laugh from him. It's like music to my ears, my heart pirouettes. "You are such a creep!"

"I mean, when you say it like that, it sounds bad," he says. "It's not like I do it often. It was just once more after that first night. I left my laptop in my locker and I came to get it. I had a feeling you were there, and I was right."

"So you just stood there and watched me?"

He tilts his head and smiles. "I wanted to talk to you, or even just leave. But I couldn't. You looked so into it, and it was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance."

I don't have anything to say to that. I've never been more flattered in my life, and right now, it feels like I am floating on air induced by his perfect words. There's a lightness inside me that I haven't experienced in a while.

"One would think the person standing in front of me right now is not the same one I saw during these nights," he muses out loud after a while.

I shake my head. "I don't like me right now. This is not who I am." I stare at the glass doors covered by thin, cream veils flying in the wind. I seem to have forgotten the sole reason behind my presence here, and soon enough, I'd have to go back in there and hold my end of the bargain.

The bargain.

I look back at Theo with a fresh idea in mind. "This place can be of use to us. We can find something here. David might have important information lying somewhere upstairs. I was dressed at one of the guest rooms, and I think I saw his—"

"You want to do that here?" He turns to me with an incredulous look. "While he stands in the same house? What if he sees us? Not to mention the hundreds of guests and security in this place."

"That's exactly why we have to do it. There are so many people here, he won't even realize we're missing," I argue back.

"And if we get caught tonight?"

"We won't." He doesn't look convinced but he slightly uncrosses his arms. "We won't, Theo."

With a shake of his head, he quietly sighs. "Let's make this quick."

We step back inside, and the flicker of excitement at the prospect of having something useful to do in this dreadful night drowns the weight of business chatter and heavy eyes around me.

The grand staircase is at the front of the hall and, unfortunately, visible to everyone here. It's too exposed. Theo must also realize this because he looks at me with knitted eyebrows.

My eyes search the area for an answer. David stands with his wife and Atlas, with what seems to be another family and Yvonne. The surprise of seeing her here is only for an instant; of course the Lopez's would be here. They're major business partners.

Each corner of the hall has a door guarded with security, and I fear that the only way upstairs is through the staircase.

Then, the spark of an idea comes to me. "There has to be elevators here. This is a three-floor penthouse."

He nods. "I think I saw something there"—he jerks his head to the right of the staircase—"Let's just hope there aren't any guards."

He grabs my hand (the crowd is dense and we can easily lose sight of each other) and leads me between a flurry of colors and expensive perfume. We move quick with our heads down until the crowd becomes sparser and sparser, reducing to nothing by the staircase. True to his words, there is a long hallway to the right that darkens at the very end, leaving the rest to imagination. But a man in blue uniform stands as guard at the entry.

For a split second, I note that our hands are still clasped together, yet there's no crowd here. His palm is rough against mine, but warm, and the feeling travels to my chest. Only now do I realize how deprived I am of physical contact with the opposite gender. I count till five, letting myself savor the feeling before pulling away from his grasp.

But he only tightens his fingers around mine and tugs me to the guard. "Follow my lead," he whispers.

The bulbous-bodied man catches sight of us and straightens, his chubby hands clasping his belt, but Theo doesn't falter in his steps.

"You kids lost?"

"No sir, far from it actually." Theo's eyes flit over the man's shoulders, silently asking him to step aside.

"Sorry, young man. This is off limits to guests."

"I'm not a guest, I'm Theodore Roman," he says coolly, lifting our clasped hands. "I'd like to attend to some business upstairs, if you don't mind."

My eyes widen, and I almost pull away from his hands again, but his grip is too strong.

The guard shifts on his feet uncomfortably, the name clearly affecting him. "O—of course, Mr. Roman," he stutters, stepping aside. "Sorry about that."

Theo flashes him a smile and clasps his shoulders good-heartedly. "You're just doing your job."

My face is still flushed as we side-step him and walk further down the hallway. The guard continues to look at us when we press a button and wait for the elevator doors to pull open. Only when we step inside and the doors close do I quickly pull my hands from his.

We don't look at each other. He shoves his hands in his pockets and I hug my arms.

"Was that necessary?" Soon enough, too many people would make something out of nothing, and things would turn awkward between us pretty fast. Things are already too damn awkward as we stand now.

He shrugs a shoulder. "I had to think fast." He side-glances me. "Does it bother you that much?"

I am glad the ding of the elevator gives me an excuse not to answer, because truthfully I don't have one. And I don't want to think too much of it. I feel his gaze on my neck as we step into the hallway and wonder if I said the wrong thing, but I can't think too much of it; there are more important things to take care of right now.

To the left is the overseeing of the grand staircase, the sounds from downstairs can be heard from here. After the overseeing, is a hallway lined with rooms, one of which is the guestroom I was fitted and dressed in. We can't cross there without being sighted by the guests, so we turn right.

Wordlessly, each of us claims a side of the hallway, opening doors that, I hope, will lead to anything useful. The first room is another guestroom, similar to the one I was dressed in. It's spacious and generously decorated, and I wonder what Atlas's room looks like if the mere guestroom looks like this.

I receive my answer three doors later when I open the last room in the hallway.

I don't have to ask Theo to realize this. Black. It's all black except the white polished floor. The bed is in the middle of the room, rather than pushed up against a wall, its black comforter and sheets messy. There are no pictures on the pitch-black walls, no medals or trophies. The only piece of décor is the grand piano in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. I try to imagine Atlas sitting on the piano bench, fingers dancing over the checkered keys, but it's hard. The act is too delicate, too compassionate for someone like Atlas.

Marli always says that your bedroom is one of the most potent reflections of yourself. Yet, this is not what I imagine Atlas's mind to look like, this is messy despite the chic décor. It's not the same proper, posh, and better-than-thou guy I know. I wonder how wrong I was about him. Then, I realize he only shows me the worst part of himself.

When Theo realizes I've stood too long in front of a room, he makes his way towards me and pushes the door open wider.

"This is—"

"Atlas's room," I finish for him. "Didn't know he plays the piano."

An odd look plays on his expression. "There's a lot you don't know about Atlas. He's . . . Complicated."

I scoff, despite my curiosity at his words. "Isn't everyone?"

He sighs. "Atlas is different. He'll do anything to please David, and sometimes blindly. It doesn't matter what gets in his way. But he wasn't like this," he adds as an afterthought.

I'm about to step inside but pause, thinking better of it. It feels too personal, like I'd be violating his privacy. Then an image of him staring at me like the filth under his shoes plays in my mind, and I think how considerate can one be around Atlas. I want to tell myself that I'm better than him, better than to stoop to his level, and that the right thing to do is to shut the door and try looking for something useful on the third floor.

But I'd be lying to myself if I did that. I'm no wise saint.

I'm taking the first step inside when the ding of an elevator makes me freeze, my body split in the doorway.

Eyes wide, I share a frantic look with Theo but he only holds a hand up, his jaw clenching as he strains to listen. "Maybe they're not heading here," he whispers.

We stand frozen in the doorway for a few seconds until I hear heels click against marble—the sure steps of someone nearing.

Theo pushes me into the room, and he's about to follow when a too familiar voice makes him stop in his tracks.

It's too late for him.

"Theo. What are you doing here?" I can't seem to connect the sultry voice to a person, so I stand as still as possible, clutching my hands to my chest, and try to decipher the look on Theo's face. But his cool, impassive face gives away nothing as usual.

I can't close the door in fear of it making too much noise; I can only hope that whoever she is doesn't come too close.

The lie comes easily. "Just dropping something off for Atlas." He shrugs. "What about you? Party's downstairs."

There's a pause. She's wondering if she should believe his words. Or making up a lie to why she stands here as well. "David's been looking for Sage for some reason. Something about pictures." I can hear the ridiculing tone that laces her voice when she says my name and finally connect the voice to Yvonne Sutton.

"Last I saw of her was at the buffet."

She takes a few steps forward. My heart speeds.
Please don't come closer, please don't come closer, please don't—

"Huh. That's weird. When I asked, they told me you were with her last."

"I'm not here to babysit her," he says, his tone scorning, but patient. He crosses his arms. "And I'm not obliged to be interrogated by anyone, least of all you. I already told you she was downstairs."

He shuts the door to Atlas's rooms, and we lock eyes for a fleeting second. Through the door, I hear a muffled 'fine'. The shuffle of feet walking away. The click of heels fading. The ding of an elevator.
They're both gone.

I count to twenty in my head, staring at the closed door as my heartbeat recedes to a normal pace. Then, I unlock it and peer down the hallway to confirm my suspicions. I silently pray to God that he's smart enough to keep her occupied while I take the elevator downstairs.

Back in the hall, I slip through dancing people, feeling light-headed and exhilarated at what just happened. A woman laughs a keening laugh next to me. Another man talks too loudly about expanding his oil company in India. Everyone's voices float around me, and I trip over the tail of my dress. Damn that dress. Why'd I have to wear this one?

Before I can fall to the ground, a steady arm holds me upright.

David Roman's face meets mine. His steel eyes dance. "It's time for pictures."

I can only nod as he leads me between people, and think that smiling and posing for a picture is the last thing I want. I want to go home already.

I almost fall in relief when I spot Theo standing next to Tave. They're talking to Atlas and Yvonne, and Luna Roman nods carefully to something that Mrs. Roman says. They are picture perfect together, that group. Rich, beautiful, powerful people. Yvonne laughs and playfully taps Tave; Atlas and Theo look like the close cousins that they should be.

I am not them, and I never will be.

Theo looks at me, and his features contort into concern, but only for a second before they shift back to easiness; he notices Yvonne noticing his expression as she looks between us.

"Where were you?" He asks with a sure smile as I take my place next to him.

"Line at the bathroom was too long."

A photographer appears, and David booms. He laughs at something the photographer says, gesturing to us to huddle together for a picture. Everyone gets into position, and somehow, I end up at the end of the group, pressed between Theo and David who holds a flask in his hand in salute to the camera.

Theo's arm slides around my waist, and he squeezes reassuringly. The small gesture is calming, but not enough. David's arm is pressed against mine.
I force myself to pull my lips into a smile and look into the lens of the camera. Everyone stills, the noise is gone, we are all tightly clutching each other like family.

A flash blinds me.

And then we regroup for another.

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A.N: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update, but here's one of my favorite chapters so far. Don't forget to vote, and please leave a comment letting me know what you think. I appreciate them more than you'd think <3