One Week Before the Gala
Vincent Mansion – Private Wardrobe Hall
The Vincent mansion was a fortress of wealth, lined with black marble, bulletproof windows, and secrets no one dared speak of aloud.
Now, those halls echoed with the sound of tailors, silk, and tension.
Max stood before a tall mirror, the jacket of his black suit half-buttoned. The fit was perfect. Of course it was—his father only accepted perfection.
Still, Max's jaw was clenched.
He didn't care about suits.
He cared about whatever the hell was wrong with his body lately.
His skin had been running hot for days. Heart pounding for no reason. His instincts, usually razor-sharp and controlled, had started to tremble.
And the scent—
He caught it when Sam walked by.
That same burnt coffee scent—but under it? Something else. Sweet. Warm. Sharp like citrus and vanilla, but rich like heat after rain.
It made him dizzy.
It made him angry.
He wasn't even sure why.
Across the room, Silas adjusted his cufflinks with practiced ease, but his eyes kept flicking toward the hallway where Sam had just disappeared.
He smelled it too.
And he hated it.
"You feel it?" Max asked quietly.
Silas didn't pretend. He nodded once. "Yeah."
Neither of them said more.
Because neither of them knew what the hell they were feeling.
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Meanwhile – Sam's Room
Sam sat on the edge of his bed, the gala invitation resting on the dresser across from him like it was made of venom.
His suit was already chosen—dark royal blue, velvet trim, custom-fitted like a prince. But he didn't care.
He didn't want to go.
He didn't want to see Noah.
Not because he didn't want him.
Because he did.
Too much.
And now it wasn't just Noah. Something had changed. Something was pulling at the bond—rippling across the connection like tangled wires and fire.
He knew his brothers were starting to feel it.
And if they went to that gala—
They'd all know.
Oliver entered quietly, handing him a silk-wrapped box with a plain black mask inside.
Sam didn't meet his eyes.
"Do you think he'll be there?" he asked softly.
Oliver's voice was gentle. "It's his party, Sam."
Sam closed his eyes.
"Then I'm walking straight into a trap."
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