Hidden in Plain Sight

Steadying herself from the push, Cleo picked up the bottle and stepped over to Caleb Bronson, leaning in to refill his glass.

Caleb's gaze lingered on her face. He reached for her waist, only for Cleo to angle her wine glass down and neatly block his hand. "Here's to you, Mr. Bronson," she smiled politely.

Caught off guard, Caleb pulled his hand back awkwardly and drained the glass. Cleo stepped quietly back beside Silas, resuming her role as a dutiful assistant.

Finally, the middle-aged men at the table turned to the actual business of the evening.

Once they wrapped up, one leaned back in his chair. "Saw Dominic in the lobby earlier. Man really commands a room. Think the Vances are making him the heir? Hard to see Conrad swallowing that." In wealthy dynasties, rivalries between brothers ran deep.

"Conrad's all polish and breeding—nothing like Dominic, who fought his way up from nothing," another remarked. "Dominic's cutthroat, and word is even his own family treads carefully around him. People say Conrad gives him plenty of leeway, though who knows if it's genuine."

A third snorted softly. "Feuds in circles like that are way over our heads. I tried handing Dominic my card earlier, and he didn't even spare it a glance."

"Because you flattered the wrong person," the first guy laughed. "Saw him at a banquet once. I paid Ms. Astor beside him a few compliments, and he took my card on the spot."

Silas cut a brief look toward Cleo, pity flickering in his eyes. Cleo kept her face calm and listened quietly, long past letting talk like that get to her.

"Dominic really spoils Daphne, though," someone else chimed in. "Brought her to every major gala these past few years. Word was they were practically engaged back then, until some nobody slipped something in his drink and ruined everything."

"Come to think of it," another asked, "has anyone ever laid eyes on his wife?"

Wild guesses flew around the table—from whether Dominic loathed her to whether he had already made that "low-class woman" vanish off the map.

Silas chuckled softly. "Actually, my assistant might know something about that." Turning to her, he asked, "What do you say, Ms. Lowell? Did Dominic make his wife vanish for good?"

Cleo's lashes dipped slightly. Scanning the gossip-hungry faces around the table, she answered quietly, "There are still laws in this country."

The men burst out laughing, praising her quick wit. Silas laughed along, though the warmth stopped short of his eyes. Having once belonged to Vance Group's inner circle, he knew far better than these small-timers.

Cleo gave a faint smile before excusing herself to the restroom. Bracing her hands on the sink, she stared at her pale reflection as dizziness rolled over her, churning her stomach with nausea.

She splashed cold water onto her skin to clear her head. When she walked back out into the corridor, Dominic was leaning idly against the wall nearby.

The fifth floor only held standard banquet rooms—what was he doing here? Cleo brushed the thought aside; that wasn't what mattered right now.

"Dominic," she called out, stopping short. "Weren't you supposed to be away on a business trip? Are you free tomorrow, then?"

Dominic's gaze rested on her damp cheek, his face giving nothing away. "Tomorrow's Saturday. The courthouse isn't open. Clearly, sitting at home playing housewife is all your head is good for."

Long immune to his cutting tongue, Cleo glanced down the hall toward Silas's room and replied calmly, "Then I'll contact Gavin on Monday."

Early on, she called Dominic all the time, though he never picked up. Eventually, going through Gavin simply became routine.

Dominic let out a scoff. "Suit yourself."

Cleo didn't waste another word, turning back toward Silas's private room.

Right as she moved, Dominic spoke behind her. "Wasn't staying home as a housewife better than letting a crowd of sleazy middle-aged men leer at you? If memory serves, Cleo, you used to have some pride."

Across three years of marriage, he had scarcely set foot at home. Depression had stripped away all her pride, and she'd tried everything just to pull her life back together.

"Dominic," she said quietly, pausing in place, "I have more self-respect in here than I ever had standing beside you."

Dominic's face darkened instantly, a terrifying intensity snapping into his eyes. Closing the distance in two strides, he clamped his hand roughly around her chin. "Say that one more time. I dare you."

His fingers dug painfully into her jaw. Cleo pressed her lips together, meeting his stare with calm, detached indifference.

Dominic glared down at her, his eyes dangerous. After a taut silence, he slowly let her go and slid his hand casually into his pocket.

His voice dropped, cold and final. "Have it your way. Stay with this crowd, and don't ever come back to me. We should've ended this years ago."

"Agreed," Cleo murmured, even managing a faint smile. "I won't ever come looking for you again."

*Years ago, though, she swore she'd always find me no matter how far I went,* Dominic thought, turning on his heel and striding down the hall without looking back.

Cleo didn't flatter herself into thinking he had come to this floor for her. Pushing open the door to Silas's room, she stepped back inside, where Silas had wrapped up his talk and was ready to leave.

Caleb shot Silas a pointed look. While Cleo was out earlier, Caleb had made it plain he wanted her to take him home tonight, and everyone at the table knew what that meant.

All these men were kept on short leashes by their wives. None dared hire a pretty assistant openly, though each kept a mistress or two tucked away. Even so, none of their women came close to Cleo; one night with her would easily be unforgettable.

Silas nudged Cleo lightly toward Caleb—subtle on the surface, unmistakable in intent. "Ms. Lowell, see how taken Caleb is with you? Hard to turn that down, isn't it?"

"My apologies, Mr. Bronson," Cleo answered smoothly. "Let me buy you a drink another evening instead. Could I get your business card?"

Visibly pleased, Caleb pulled out a card and handed it over. Cleo accepted it respectfully, her deferential manner putting him right at ease, and he promptly agreed to move forward with Silas's proposal.

Silas pulled out the contract at once and held it out to Cleo, who stiffened briefly, looking torn.

Not wanting to see her uncomfortable, Caleb signed the paperwork himself and rested a smug hand on her shoulder, giving it a pat. "Call me anytime. Young people your age still have plenty to learn."

"I certainly will," Cleo said with a polite smile.

The group headed out of the room together. Right as they stepped into the hotel lobby downstairs, Dominic walked out of another elevator alongside his two closest friends: Asher Mercer, a top-tier surgeon, and Declan Gaines.

Neither man had ever hidden his disdain for Cleo. Well aware of it, she had spent years shut away at home, steering clear of every gathering and social event.

Cleo spotted the three of them at once, though she made no move to greet them.

Asher caught sight of her and raised a brow. "Hold on—isn't that Cleo?"

Every gaze swung over. Caleb's hand was still resting right on Cleo's shoulder, blatantly taking advantage of her in plain view.

Spotting Dominic and his circle, Caleb changed his tune at once and hurried over, eager and fawning. "Mr. Vance, Mr. Gaines, what an honor!" he beamed, bowing eagerly. "Do you remember me, Mr. Vance? I handed you my card once."

Dominic's gaze drifted right past him, locking onto Cleo. She wasn't even looking in his direction, standing slightly aside as she spoke quietly with Silas.

Nearing forty, Silas still looked remarkably sharp, and he met Dominic's stare with a faint smile playing on his lips. Beside him, Cleo stood quiet and still, her face completely devoid of emotion.

Dominic realized he couldn't quite recall when she had stopped smiling. Years had passed since the last time he'd seen that bright, radiant grin on her face.

His throat tightened as his icy stare dropped onto Caleb. "Get lost," he said coldly.