Page 4 of Crossing Lines

“What?” he asks. “It’s my first real off-season as an owner.”

“Ah, yes, the grueling life of an owner. It must be tough balancing charity events with all the time you spend in your private box.”

“You’d be surprised how exhausting it is making everything look this easy.”

Did he…just make a joke? No, that can’t be. It’s Evren, he’s as stoic as they come.

“It must besohard being you,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I can only imagine the emotional toll of picking the perfect tie for each event. Oh wait, let me guess, youdon’t wear anything but black ties.” I’ve literally never seen him wear anything but black suits, white shirts, and black ties. It’s painfully boring and minimalist and the total opposite of me.

He makes a sound—something between a huff and a chuckle—as he takes a slow sip of his champagne.

As he sets his glass down, I shift in my seat, instinctively trying to create a few inches of distance between us. If a mere brush of our legs can ignite sparks through layers of fabric, I definitely don’t want his arm anywhere near my bare skin. As I shift, a sharp pinch pierces my back. Fucking safety pins. I try to hide my wince, but I must fail because his gaze narrows, locking in on me with unnerving precision.

“Are you okay?” he demands.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You winced.”

“I’m fine. My dress is just a little uncomfortable.”

“Hmm.” His gaze sweeps over me, slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch. “You look stunning tonight.”

The wordstunninghangs in the air between us, heavy and electric. I search his face, half expecting a smirk, or some tell that he’s joking. But I can’t find anything except the usual intensity from him.

I blink, caught off guard. Did he just compliment me? What’s up with him tonight? He’s acting…different.

“Did you make it yourself?” he asks, nodding tomy dress.

“I make everything I wear.” I lean closer to him and lower my voice. “And there’s no need to give me fake compliments. No one’s paying attention. You don’t have to pretend to be nice.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, just a hint. “Do you really think I’d waste my time pretending and giving out fake praise to you?”

“You never know.” I lift my shoulder, trying to act nonchalant.

“Believe what you want about me, but I don’t lie.”

I bite back a scoff. Of course he lies. It’s probably in his job description as a billionaire to lie. There’s no way he reached his level of success without bending the truth or manipulating a few people along the way.

“Nina,” Elodie says, drawing my attention back to her and saving me from having to respond. “I forgot to tell you. Hunter and I decided to have a post-elopement party at the end of May, and I was wondering if you could make my dress?”

“Pfft, you don’t even have to ask,” I say breezily, even though inside, my heart races with panic. I haven’t been able to create anything new in weeks. Probably because of the move to a new city. Yeah, it must bethatand not because I haven’t been able to open Instagram since my jacket went viral and thousands of people started demanding I sell my stuff while thousands of others judge and scrutinize everything on my page.

“Perfect,” Elodie says. “Let’s meet soon to go over design ideas?”

“Only if we can turn it into a girls’ night.”

“Deal.” Elodie laughs and then shifts her attention to Evren, who has not so subtly been eavesdropping this entire time.

“Just so you know,” she says to him, “you’re invited to the party, and I expect you to be there.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He stares at me the entire time he speaks, each word a deliberate caress against my skin.

Why the hell is he looking at me like that? And, more importantly, why the hell am I curious to find out?

Chapter 2

Evren

---