“Wow,” she breathed, letting out a low whistle as her eyes ran the length of me. “I knew you could clean up, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen a black tux look this good.”

She smiled with the compliment, all light and easy and playful like we’d always been. It set my heart on fire, but I masked it as best I could by the time she found my gaze again, knowing those were feelings I would need to bury alive if necessary.

“And I didn’t know slits could go this high,” I mused, arching a brow at her exposed thigh. “No glasses?”

“Contacts,” she answered easy, but then, she frowned. “Does it… do I look okay?”

“You look…” I bit my lip against everything I wanted to say, landing on a quiet, “breathtaking.”

She blushed, stepping next to me and slipping her arm around mine. “Come on, let’s get you mingling so you can steal some poor rich woman’s money and make me look good on that auction stage.”

“Is that my job tonight?” I asked. “Make you look good?”

“And raise a lot of money for charity,” she added.

Her smile slipped a bit when we passed through the entryway, not even needing to do more than nod to the volunteers taking tickets. They knew who I was.

I marveled at how the club had been transformed, the uplighting and dance floor, the champagne fountain and various waiters walking around with appetizers and hors d’oeuvres. Every member of the team had cleaned up for the occasion, and even Holden looked relaxed where he drank water as a group of older women fawned over him.

“Maliyah is already here,” Giana said quietly when we made our way into the space. “She looks beautiful. And I… I overheard something.”

I just swallowed, looking down at where she still clung to my arm.

“I think she really misses you, Clay. I think… I think our plan is working.” Her eyes searched mine. “She told a group of the cheerleaders in the bathroom that she wants you back.”

I blinked at her reveal of information, waiting for it to hit me, to strike me in the chest, to fill me up with hope or the sense of pride I felt after winning a game.

But I felt nothing.

Two months ago — hell, even one month ago, I would have leapt for joy, or perhaps even cried. I would have run to Maliyah. I would have held her in my arms and begged her to take me back, to believe in us, to see the future I had always seen.

But now, that future was nothing but a foggy, distant dream — one I couldn’t see clearly anymore.

One I had no desire to ever chase again.

I didn’t know what to say, but I tried to pretend to be happy, to fake like that was the news I’d been waiting for.