Page 138 of Shattered By Grace

“What can I get you, Miss?” the bartender asked.

“Moscato.”

As she turned to find Taylor again, she noticed them leaving the ballroom. Not thinking much about it, she took a drink of her wine and started to walk the room.

Music played softly in the background when a hand pulled at her arm. “Victoria.”

Confused, she turned and saw Ms. Conners, her boss, pull her mask down.

“Oh, hi, Ms. Conners.”

“Whitney, please, we’ve worked together long enough.” She made a small, light laugh and looked around her. “Where’s your date?”

A small ping of sadness washed over her, but no one could tell. “He had something to do and had to leave early.” Victoria took a small sip of her wine. “I’ll tell him you said hi.”

Victoria forced a polite smile as she engaged in small talk with Whitney, discussing work, the event, and the stunning venue. But as much as she tried to focus, her mind was still tangled with Tristan, the warmth of his hands, the weight of his words, the ache of watching him walk away.

She took another sip of her wine, nodding at something Whitney said when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

“Care to dance?”

The deep voice sent a ripple of tension through her. She turned, already knowing who she’d find.

Adams.

Dressed in a sharp black suit, his mask only partially obscured the sharp intelligence in his eyes. He extended a hand, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.

Victoria hesitated, glancing back at Whitney, who arched a brow but said nothing.

“Just one dance,” Adams said smoothly, his voice low and persuasive, as though he was trying to get her alone for a reason.

Victoria exchanged a quick glance with Whitney before turning back to Adams.

Adams' grip was firm but not forceful as he guided her into a slow waltz. His eyes were sharp, scanning the room even as he spoke low enough for only her to hear.

“What are you doing here?” Victoria asked quietly. “Is everything okay?”

His body language faltered slightly, but his eyes…his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Adams, what’s wrong? Did something happen to Tristan?”

“Tristan?”

Fuck.

She hadn’t meant to say his name, but now it was too late.

Adams' expression flickered, but he recovered quickly. “No. Tristan and Tyson are fine.” He hesitated, then added, “Tristan is about to step into his first fight.”

Victoria’s brows knitted together. Her confusion deepened.

“How do you know that?”

Adams didn’t answer right away. A fraction of a second too long.

Victoria stiffened. He shouldn’t know that. The underground fights weren’t something easily tracked, and if Tristan was about to fight, that meant Adams had eyes where he shouldn’t.

Her stomach twisted. “Who told you?”

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